I do not decide each day if I should reign in my negativity regarding life as I see it on our planet, or to ramble off into other situations, literally I just begin typing, and the words flow out in the direction of my brain gush.
I do read other
blogs each morning first, sipping coffee, unable to be coherent until the second large cup. I'd eaten so many fresh figs last night that I literally had to sleep on my back, too full to rest on my stomach, but I was thinking about the personality characteristics Sarah'd been telling me about.
There are different levels of each, she's
choleric, as am I, yet I run hotter all the time, she's more tempered, and she'd read that folks like me desperately need yoga, no matter if I think it is too slow and boring, that's the point dummy girl, to slow down, to cool off. Fruit eating is a plus for types like me, with veggies coming in a close second. My inner core, like that of the earth, is over-heated, the coils burning 24-7 unbidden, it's just the way it is.
A choleric's weaknesses can make them the most annoying person on earth, that I'm keenly aware of this, I hope, works in my favor.
I've always craved fruits so much that my own mother suggested I must have a fruit deficiency as a child, as if that was even possible, but I truly can put away enormous quantities, and Sarah's explanation made too much sense to me. I eat bluesberries, strawberries, raspberies and blackberies by ginormous bucketfuls. I crave it.
I'd just told Tracy and Lisa that, at my age, I was enjoying letting my inner pig reign supreme. Lisa'd made me cupcakes, of course from scratch, that were to die for, literally, deep chocolate with a chocolate truffle on the inside. I swooned, envying Tracy who is married to Lisa,
Lord Have Mercy, that man must be so incredibly well fed, plus she's beautiful and super intelligent. I'd even shared the cupcakes with Sarah and Yolie and their families, Lisa'd baked so many that even a pig like me couldn't eat 'em all. Hazel told Sarah, "Miss Lisa is a better cooker than even you Mommy!"
We're toying with the idea of the two of us, Sarah and I, taking a yoga class this fall, to learn the techniques, she is close enough to me in temperament to not want to end up further down the line so wound up, so brazenly pulsating with so much unharnessed, uncontrolled energy that needs to be better dissipated each day. I'm grateful for the energy level, yet I do realize I need to work it better, as stress wreaks havoc from within, if not better released.
I'd read the
The Adoption Counselor's take, as a therapist, about therapy, she wrote about us adoptive parents
needing the therapy, and I so agree. Raised on logic, nurtured as children, it was these parenting techniques that we'd all observed when we were children that may have led us into our adoption journeys, hoping to parlay these learned skills into successes for our children. But as
Sharon wrote sadly, with three arrests of her grown kids lately, our experiences have taken us down different roads than where we'd initially desired to travel. I've been in her shoes too.
That's only one of the may reasons that I believe we now need therapy. We'd lose our ever loving minds otherwise. We need that very educated, neutral third party opinion maybe even more than food, water and oxygen.
I've learned a great deal, perhaps one of the most eye-opening events happened way back when in the first year of Daniel's placement, back when I only had 11 children, and I was so sopping wet behind the ears as to be a cartoon figure. My caseworker, Emily, oh so patiently walked me through, I was having tough go of it with one teenager then, nothing compared to what would follow in the next two decades.
Not once did Emily roll her eyes at my naivete, or at my conviction that love was the answer, that logic would work, never an "I told you so," she just answered endless phone calls from me, as I learned the hard way along the way. I was so blessed to be able to tap into her knowledge, the turnover of caseworkers can be astronomical, I was so dang fortunate to have had such stability, and a long term commitment to my family by her. I needed someone who knew of our interactions and history, that's also who I've found in Dr. Mandy.
Packing the van for two weeks at Nags Head in 1992, Daniel insistently was not gonna fall for that. "Honey, put your suitcase in the van," I kept reminding him but he'd been 'tricked' by caseworkers all his life, moved from pillar to post,. I was too ignorant then to recognize these signs, as he absolutely refused to get into the van. I was so dang dumb. I tried explaining the concept of a vacation, but he wanted none of it.
By then he'd lived with me for only 9 months, stressful months during which my marriage unraveled, neither of us knew that within another year we'd move to another home, the home we've now been in ever since.
I cajoled, explained and begged, finally he relented, me still too blind to his inner terrors, too naive to fully comprehend what he was going through inside his fearful mind. Indeed when we arrived ten hours later at the beach house I so adored, he ran under the house and cowered. Grandpa, glad to see him, went under to talk with him, to explain this concept of a fun vacation. Grandpa then still lived up in Virginia.
This photo was taken on a nature walk, I remember my sister-in-law being pregnant at the time, I suppose with Katie Bay, her beautiful Notre Dame daughter. Daniel showing his total displeasure at this adventure that, to him, threatened the security he felt he'd found back at our house. Why'd we need to go to a Nature Preserve? He must have wondered, when we literally lived at one.
I truly, simply did not understand what trauma can do to a person. I just didn't get it. I came at this from my own vantage point, that one in which logic prevailed. Daniel has since forgiven me all my earlier ignorance.
My learning curve was very, very steep, and truly, now some 20 years later, there's still so much for me to learn and discover. Maybe, if anything, I'm even more entrenched in the learning process? Everyone now knows that Daniel turned out to be exemplary, I know I'll someday be the mother of an Army General, maybe a full bird colonel, a man working at the White House or something, his future knows no limits.
I thought then that I, at least, knew something then about the grieving process, my children's loss issues were severe, I don't know then that I ever truly comprehended the enormous depth and the severity, I think I then shared society's general thought that children could recover from grief eventually, what I didn't quite understand was that the accompanying trauma was so, I duuno, traumatic, nearly crippling.
I think I then focused more on Yolie, whose palpable grief was so much more visible, her brother, Joe's acting out years later demonstrated his level of outrage over what had happened to him in his early years. Daniel had been a handful the first year, then he totally settled down, his innate curiosity and his love of life overwhelming his inner pain, he'd replaced his grief with ideas of success and progress somehow. I don't know how he did it, he just overcame on his own.
Maybe the high intelligence equips one with more resilience? I dunno. If I had all the answers, I'd share 'em here. I just don't know.
Speaking of high IQ and resiliency,
thank God Sabrina possesses both.
The vet last week had warned us, had even hinted that Max's days were numbered. "He's in right bad shape," the man gently told us, this elderly dog we'd recently adopted at a yard sale. "He's showing signs of heart failure."
We'd decided late last night to take him back to the vet this morning, even talked about the possibility that he might need to be put to sleep, so as not to suffer, I'd wanted to prepare Sabrina for this possibility, we'd sadly watched him failing this week. We'd cleared up his eye problem, Sabrina'd been a dedicated nurse to him, but he wasn't eating, he clearly appeared to be slipping away, he was sleeping all the time.
I'd already called the vet this morning at 7:30, gotten my keys, and was waiting in the van for Sabrina to bring him, but she'd come out of her room crying, "He stopped breathing, Mom."
Oh no. Seriously? Two months we've had him, less than two actually, long enough for Sabrina's attachment to be strong enough to send her into grief this morning.
We buried him out back.
I gave her the choice of missing Day Two of Cheer Leading Camp, but she chose to go, crying all the way there. I notified the coach, Jack's former fifth grade teacher, another plus of small town life, as I know this woman truly cares about my children.
Lily, too, went down in tears. I'd just bought her some keyboards yesterday via Craig's List, she's very musical and needs this creative outlet. She didn't like her piano lessons several years ago, preferring to learn on her own. There's a piano on Grandma's side of the house, she plays it often over there, but she'd also asked for me to hunt her a keyboard and I'd done so. She'd been good about her summer reading, t
his trilogy required for her 9th grade lit class, well at least the first one, she's enjoying all three.
Chuy was the man this morning, digging the dog grave, the rest of the kids somber, me explaining this was a part of life. They know that I also love our dogs, the loss is tough on all of us, but at least we gave this unloved, formerly abandoned dog a lot of love for his last two months.
Lily's gonna be playing those keyboards all day as she processes, Sabrina will work her butt off at camp, I 'll weed, Tabby and Nando want to move stones to commemorate where Max now lies. We all have different ways of working through this event.
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