Standing at the “Gates of Hope”

“Hope.” By Victoria Safford.

Our mission is to plant ourselves at the gates of Hope—
Not the prudent gates of Optimism,
Which are somewhat narrower.
Not the stalwart, boring gates of Common Sense;
Nor the strident gates of Self-Righteousness,
Which creak on shrill and angry hinges
Nor the cheerful, flimsy garden gate of
“Everything is gonna’ be all right.”
But a different, sometimes lonely place,
The place of truth-telling,
About your own soul first of all and its condition.
The place of resistance and defiance,
The piece of ground from which you see the world
Both as it is and as it could be
As it will be;
The place from which you glimpse not only struggle,
But the joy of the struggle.
And we stand there, all of us, beckoning and calling,
Telling people what we are seeing
Asking people what they see.

the-open-gate

In Case of Emergency

Yesterday was the first day of school. And predictably at the end of the day the kids came home with the stacks paper – some of it actually needed my attention, and much of it went straight into the recycling pile.

Among the items that needed my attention was the reminder to send in an emergency kit for each child. Living in CA, emergency prep means earthquake prep. Our school district requires each child have an emergency kit supplied by the family that includes basic essentials for up to 48 hours.

There is an option to either purchase a pre made kit from the school, or supply your own. I purchased the kits for both kids when they were in kindergarten and we just re-use them each year, restocking when perishables hit their expiration date. So as I was going through the folder full of paper my son brought home and saw the notice listing the items that should be included in an emergency kit, I almost didn’t look at it as I moved it the recycling pile. But then a hand written note on the side of the page, and I paused to read what it said.

The note had been written by my son, “Include 48 hours of anxiety medication in emergency kit.”

I asked my son if his teacher had told him to write the note, and he said no. It was his idea.  He told me, “My medication only works if I take it every single day. If something happens and I get trapped at school, I want to have my medication there.”

I was momentarily stunned.

I asked if getting trapped at school was something he worries about, “No Mom. I do worry about a lot of things, but not about this. But we do live close enough to the San Andreas fault that a major earthquake could happen. If it happens while I am at school, I want to know I have everything I need until you can get to me. The roads could be really messed up. It’s possible that I could have to spend a night at school.”

Ok. So he wasn’t worrying. He was being practical. And that means as much as he loathes going to the psychiatrist and to the psychologist, he knows that the medication is helping him. He still won’t really talk to us about what he is feeling or experiencing, but he told me so, so much when he said “My medication only works if I take it every single day. If something happens and I get trapped at school, I want to have my medication there.”

With those two sentences, he told me he knows how far down he had spiraled before starting the medication, and he told me he feels better on the medication. With those two sentences, he told me he knows he needs to do the work to help himself. With those two sentences, he told me he is beginning to self advocate. With those two sentences, he gave me hope.

Clearly I do not want to see a day when there is an emergency so massive that he does get stuck at school, but if that day comes he will be prepared because he was brave enough to acknowledge his truth.img_6020

 

 

 Hope (& Prozac) for the Journey

Last Thursday, we were here. And we were scared and lost and looking for even a glimmer of hope.

Today, my husband and I were back at the psychiatrist’s office to discuss his thoughts on diagnosis and treatment. We didn’t actually find out anything we hadn’t already been told or suspected. His diagnosis was confirmation of autism spectrum disorder level 1 and generalized anxiety disorder. He also added the “sub” diagnosis of panic disorder, said he will also be evaluating for depression as we move forward and pointed out that all of the above is exacerbated by our son’s high intellect.

So we have a confirmed diagnosis, we have a treatment plan, and we have a treatment team who we FINALLY feel understand exactly what our son and our family struggle through. We have hope.

We have hope, and we have a prescription for prozac. We have hope and we have the words to explain to our son what is happening inside his brain and body. 

As I was waiting at the pharmacy for the prescription, I was texting with somebody who had asked me to let him know the outcome of the appointment. In one of those texts I said that I felt like I had finally exhaled for the fist time in weeks. There is great relief in being able to name what he is experiencing. 

So I’ve exhaled. My husband and I have hugged each other tight. Tonight we’ll give our son the words to name his struggles and tomorrow we’ll open the bottle of Prozac.