Wednesday, April 04, 2012

Dr. C and CT Scan


A big ole storm gave us 60 minutes of a very decent rainfall, but blew out all our power for an hour or so and cancelled both soccer games. I was very happy for the rain, as I've planted a great deal for days now.

"You're darker than a Mexican," Lily pointed out yesterday.

No, I'm not. I am darker, after days as a field hand, but that translates only into arm wrinkles at my age. The Vitamin D feels so good to my skin and it's hot as Hades here, so I sure can't be wearing long sleeves. I used to always wonder how old ladies get wrinkled arms and now I know.

But who cares? I'd been listening to a podcast about post traumatic growth and resiliency, fascinating stuff about building new pathways in the brain, another podcast on Martin Seligman's positive psychology thoughts, he'd written Learned Optimism many years ago and as I remember immersing myself in Norman Vincent Peale and Napoleon Hill before entering the world of adoption, I totally buy into Seligman's studies.

Had I not had a great deal of internal strength and positive relationships, I'd a been dadgum sunk in the last 25 years of unmitigated, relentless trauma.

This is why I can look ahead with joy and hope.

That and the fact that the kids and I are safe from those who'd attack us, this we know from bitter experience. One of them recently kicked out a window in a placement. Only because there were no little kids to attack. This is how I've been injured too, stepping in front of moving trains to protect smaller potential victims.

My bedroom is gorgeous. The wood ceiling spills down one wall as an accent, the wall one sees when one climbs the stairs and enters the doorless room. A Mexican crew yesterday was staining it a natural sheen, highlighting the beautiful pine tongue and groove. I never let on that I was fairly fluent in Spanish, listening to 'em josh each other, all clean jokes amd remarks, indeed the boss goes to my church and had given me an amazing deal for all this work.

Oprah remarked on her biopic of Joel Osteen, "There are Blacks, Asians and Hispanics in your church there in Texas!" Clearly her mindset must've been Mississippi in the 1950s? There are Blacks, Asians and Hispanics in our church too, and not just family members. Honey, the South has changed, get with the plan.

Tomorrow is the last day of school before Spring Break, Good Friday and the entire next week, I've never planted before Good Friday in my whole life. Now I'm freed up to somehow paint the white walls in my room a deep sage green before putting all the plants, books and furniture back up there.

I have Marissa all day today so that Marcela could work an earlier shift at the bank, usually she goes in the afternoon so her husband is home in time to watch their daughter. Tonight is the Easter Egg Hunt at church and Marcela wants to be the one to take Marissa.

I remember the many many times we'd be excited about a function or an event only to be unable to attend when The One Who Must Control Everything would rage and eliminate my possibility of getting the others there on time, if at all. I grieve for all the times this one messed up everyone's plans or slugged someone, I regret that I didn't make a move sooner, yet I'm reassured in therapy that in hanging in as long as I did, I'm virtually certain that I know I'd done all I possibly could do for them as a human being.

Today I have four sons headed to see Dr C, the psychiatrist. It's errand day, Marissa by my side because Nando's CT scan is also scheduled, hoping we can eliminate any further concern about his inexplicable neck pain that does finally seem to be lessening.