Losing Light

Over five minutes of increased darkness from yesterday, ten minutes from the day before, fifteen minutes from Sunday...

I feel it in my bones, the approach of winter, the loss of light, the switch from warm timeless days to alarm clocks, schedules, and florescent lights.

Its dark at 6:00 when my alarm wakes me for school and I find myself not wanting to rise. Every year I struggle during this transition time from summer to fall. And in Alaska fall arrives with winter barking at her heels, rushing this short season onwards and out.

Nothing gold can stay, a line imprinted on my brain from reading The Outsiders in the back of our old orange station wagon as we drove to the Cape as a kid. Just like Ponyboy, I still yearn to hold onto all that is good and pure and never let it change. But change is the only constant.

I find myself longing for my easy-going Elias who never melted down in public and who brightened the world with his smile. I want him back. Not this surly eleven-year-old kid who pulls his sisters hair and then yells, "I did not!" when confronted. Who screams at Nick and me and claws at us with his hands as big as mine.

I wish I understood the angst behind the anger. Is he overwhelmed? Misunderstood? Frustrated? Hormonal? Or just plain aggressive and defiant?

I don't know.

He rubs his eyes and looks away when we try to talk to him about his behavior or he denies any wrongdoing.

"I didn't do that!"

"No I didn't!"

God, am I tired of hearing this. And I'm tired of silence. The classic non-response to our questions. Or the random question that has nothing to do with our conversation.

"Elias, I notice you seem more frustrated lately."

"Mom, what is that spot over there?"

And I find myself trying to pull him apart in my search for solutions. Is it a sensory issue?  Processing delay? Motor control?  Problems with communication? Is it the Autism or the ADHD or the visual impairment or the CP or being eleven or something else all together like pisces in vertigo in an odd numbered year?

And I'm just tired and worried and tired of worrying, as our respite beween blow-ups seems shorter now that the school year has begun and his behaviors seem to be spilling beyond the walls of home more and more. Pushing and hitting kids. And staff.

And, and, and...

I cling to moments when I can exhale.

Today, I stood outside Elias's portable classroom, on my shrunken soccer field (due to construction) waiting for the 5th and 6th graders to emerge for recess. The door opened and boys poured out, including Elias who used his canes and head to push against a kid who passed him on the stairs. 

Oh shit, here we go, I thought, as both counselor and mom.

But then, one of those kids who you can count on to do the right thing when no one is looking, stood behind Elias with his arms wider than normal, not too much to be obviously restraining the masses, all itching to get outside and play, but just enough to prevent anyone else from pushing past Elias till he made his way down the three steps with his canes.

The boy caught me watching and I smiled and gave him a thumbs up, to which he just shyly nodded and ran to the field.

I cant shield Elias from the world that moves too fast, as much as I wish I could. My own armor wears thin, especially around my heart.

But as we turn away from the sun, I can try to remember to look for the stars.

Comments

[fleming ackermann]

I am listening. The start of school is exciting and overwhelming for everyone. Maybe that is all it is. Perhaps it is this defiance that is slowly pushing him towards more independence like other kids his age not as happy in mommy's arms as they used to be? Who knows. Having a beer with Nick, while outside looking up at the stars, couldn't hurt. Everyone says that change is good but sometimes I wonder too.

[Greta]

Wow, your words, once again, hit home, Christy. Direct hit. Nothing Gold Can Stay echos in the remote canyons of longing, mourning, and fear. A cold wind blows straight through those canyons, upstream, as we try to make our way down. Resistance. Discomfort. Paralyzing fear of rapids ahead, heard before seen. What the heck is up there? I want to go back! Or portage around the burly, surging hydraulic ahead that can swallow you whole. But backwards isn't an option, and even when we were back there, we did not have the chance to package those memories so nicely in gold paper as they were being lived. Rather we moved through them, moment by moment, as we must continue doing. Not knowing what's coming next.

Like Fleming, I am listening. It is such a gift to listen to you and know that we are not alone. I can't offer any comforts. Wish I could. But thank you.

[Christy]

Greta and Fleming, you two are amazing, thank you for your long distance friendship and wonderful words. I need them both!

[Kate]

I don't know what it all means either. My hope is that it is another transition and sign of growth and progress. Maybe he is noticing his differences more now too and that is creating this turbulent time. I think the seasons changing is always part of it too from the light filled unstructured days of summer to back to work and school and fall with winter right behind. Anyway I'm listening too and offer all my positive thoughts your way. Hugs.

[Noel Dennehy]

Oh Christy- I take care of twins both about to turn 10 and the hormones are miserable- and barometric pressure affects everyone too. Oh, the twins are a boy and a girl and then we have their younger brother age 7 who tries to escape into an imaginary world away from them!!! Raising kids- especially challenged kids- takes a village and AN ARMY!!!