My son, my incredible healed son, is going away to the college of his dreams in 12 days. Its hard to believe that just one year ago, we didn't know for sure that he would even be well enough to go away to school, and now, here he is. I'm just so thrilled for him, for that he has this chance at his version of the American Dream.
And its starting to hurt, too - the realization that he is actually leaving, but I'm so excited for him. And no matter how much i will miss him, i'm knowing that this is the best possible thing for him on the planet! and for me, too, to have this chance to regroup and reboot and figure out who the heck I am now, after all these years of his illness and now, his healing and moving onwards. And I couldn't be happier about that either. But I'm crying, now, too, its just now hitting me. All this time, i'm like, so excited, and so proud of him. and then today, we started packing him. And its sinking in I guess, that I am sad, and up to this point i had the idea that I might be sad, but not the feeling. Now, i'm feeling it. Who knows what this part of the journey will be like? Probably, everything. Joy and pride and sadness and missing and excitement and adventure and more missing and more sadness. And I hope just lots and lots of juicy fun, i need a juicy happy future, i need it and i need to believe its there for me, somewhere. My American personal dream.
Its amazing how as soon you start feeling bad or sad or whatever about one thing, it colors everything and it all starts to snowball. So now I'm like, immersed in that weird achy missing feeling that I get, mingled with sadness and stories about it all. BUT...NO PTSD anywhere in sight. I am simply present to the missing, grieving maybe, in a way I was not able to do before, because the grief just knocked me over and triggered all that under the surface stuff. But I don't get that anymore. This grief is just plain grief. So maybe now I'll really be able to process it, and let it go, or get over it, whatever that is and whatever that means.
And so I have been indulging it, all day, in my pajamas, and just drinking coffee and helping Lance organize his stuff. And crying on and off and listening to this song over and over a hundred times. its THE perfect breaking free song and i always knew that he wrote it about me...
Well she was an American girl
Raised on promises
She couldn't help thinkin' that there
Was a little more to life
Somewhere else
After all it was a great big world
With lots of places to run to
Yeah, and if she had to die
Tryin' she had one little promise
She was gonna keep
It was kind of cold that night
She stood alone on her balcony
She could hear the cars roll by
Out on 441
Like waves crashin' on the beach
(And for one desperate moment there
He crept back in her memory
God it's so painful
Something that's so close
And still so far out of reach...)
Oh yeah, all right
Take it easy baby
Make it last all night
She was an American girl
it just puts it right out there, doesn't it? So close, so far. But what is there to ever do?? Rock on, keep moving forward, and let it go, again and again and again. Keep believing there is a purpose to all the fucking madness and that something incredible and alive and glorious is just around the corner. And follow those instincts wherever they may lead. Reach for the highest possible thoughts. Be brazen. And keep breathing, and keep loving, even if we have to die trying. its a risk worth taking. That's all there is to do, in this great big world.
Never ever ever give up. Not on your child, not on you. And never ever ever stop loving.
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