...under (de)struction...

The blank space beckons,

but my heart reckons,

so blank it remains,

for fear...

that words once untapped,

unchecked and untamed,

those words which undammed, 

might pour.

~~~

I've been here...typing into the white space, off and on all month long.  With nothing to show for it.  Because every sentence I've started...I've deleted.

Every post I've written, I've reverted to empty draft.

Sometimes it's not as simple as just writing it out.

Sometimes it's too tangled up to risk it.

Sometimes...

...it's not time yet...even though it is...and isn't...

Sometimes it's the limbo of between then and now and now and then.

Sometimes, the words have to wait until the story is over.

~~~

...14 (in days gone by)...

 In Days Gone By:
16.July.2019

By way of an "inside look" into my life with J...
Scene: Kitchen table
Time: Current

Sitting across from my son (and spending far too much time/effort online myself while waiting) whilst he reads/re-reads both articles from today.

L: "Close to done, yet?"
J: "Yes. I've been done with the reading component. Now I'm reviewing and annotating. I don't want anyone to think I missed any of the relevant points or, worse, that I don't have valid additional ones."
L: *silence

(Because I've taught him that when something sparks a thought or passion, it deserves your time...he is reviewing the latest news from his former school/district and developing his written response/continuation.)

...13 (in days gone by)...

 In Days Gone By:
13.July.2013

...I want you to know that 99.9% of the time I am able to keep my head above water.

But every once in a while when I'm already stressed to the max, something like this will catch me off guard and it's a freefall for a little while.

One of the hardest parts of single parenting is this aspect: Instilling a strong foundation and building his self-esteem from the bottom up.

And I know all too well, as an adoptee, the questions and concerns...

the looking to our parents to see who we are.

I always said I would be honest with my child, and I don't believe I've wavered from that yet.

I don't want him to grow up believing in some distorted fairytale version of who his biological father is. Because, quite frankly, that could prove very dangerous to him later in life. But all of that has to be weighed against the simplicity of his current questions.

It's more a matter of…

Just the facts…

I do believe that part of equipping my child to enter the adult world is providing him with some of the information regarding why we filed for that restraining order and the time for that will come.

Right now, it's more conversation of, yes you have many things in common with your biological father. He shared many of the same talents and you were granted many of the same gifts by God. What matters is what you choose to do with them and how you choose to go about fulfilling your promise and your potential.

For those of you wondering this morning, yes I deleted one of those posts. I'd rather not leave that information lurking about publicly.

My marriage was a scary time.

And during the course of it I was completely incapable of letting anyone know the true extent of what I was going through or asking for help.

I'm not "lucky to be alive" after that, I'm stubborn.

Once I made the decision to save us, there was no turning back.

And we didn't stumble at first…

We fell, and fell hard.

I'm proud of where I've gotten to, but appalled at the notion that...

where I've been, I allowed myself to be.

...a step back...

Yesterday, I tried something new.
I slowed down and moved over.
It was, by any standard, a fleeting moment...this.

But life is lived in those fleeting moments...they are the foundation on which the big moments...the big memories...are built...

Aren't they?

We'd been standing on the line, my eldest and I, waiting to be called up to the register so he could make his purchase.  Nothing unusual or notable, there.  Just the slow and steady plod...then pause...plod...then pause, of a Sunday shopping queue. Little inside jokes traded back and forth to fill the time.  Endcap considerations, and the shifting of weight from one foot to the other as we waited.

"Next customer, Register 1!", came the call.
And we turned the corner to head up.

But as we did so, lock-step as always...
...I...
'observed/analyzed/hypothesized'.

And slowed down.
He noticed, right away, and slowed down as well. 

So I shifted, quickly, and nudged myself in behind him, next to the wall...
blocking his attempt to walk beside me.

There was a moment's hesitation...a stumble of feet reacting too late to my diversion...and then he recovered and walked, solo, the few yards up to the register.

Again, a hesitation...a hiccup of intent vs. ability.

He knew I was right there, behind him.

But I wasn't beside him.

I wasn't leading.

I wasn't prompting.

He knew I was right there, behind him.

He placed his item on the counter, nodding acknowledgement...silently...of the cashier's perky "Hi", curling in from the shoulders in avoidance.

Total declared.

Cash exchanged.

A reminder to tap the screen for a receipt.

Behind him, I could feel the heat pouring off him.

The anxiety-energy blast.

I tapped him on the shoulder and said "I'm heading out.  See you in the car."

Walked away...forcing myself not to look back.  Forcing myself not to offer my face...my reassurance...my lead...

Moments later, he got in the car.  Shopping bag secured. Off we drove.

He'd done it.

Not happily.  Not comfortably.

But done, nonetheless.

~~~

He relies on me...heavily...

To ease the way.

To lead.

To run interference and translate.

To shelter his discomfiture and deficiencies.

To walk him right up to the edge.

He relies on me to walk side by side.

But it's time to step back and force his failures, a bit.

It's time to push him forward, even if he stumbles.

Because I can't always be there.

He has to be able to do it himself, without it taking too much of a toll on his emotional energy...without allowing the necessary interactions to trigger burnout.

He has to keep growing.

He has to keep going...

...even when the going gets rough...

...even when the obstacles seem insurmountable to him...

even when I stop walking beside him and move to the back-up position...

~~~

The back-up position.

The parenting of young adulthood.

The parenting of an autistic adult.

The sudden, but somehow also 'slow and steady' shifting from leading the way.

The back-up position.

There to catch, but not to push.

There to encourage, but not to force.

It's the allowing for my hand to be reached for, without automatically offering it.

It's the intentional heavy breathing in the car...an unspoken prompt so he can self-regulate.

It's the reassurance that I'll always be his soft place to land...if he falls...

and the firm reminder that he'll never land if he doesn't leap.

...July : The List...

I'm not quite sure of the how or the when, but it seems June has run out...
...and left, in its wake, far too many unchecked boxes.

June did not want to stick with the plan, that's for sure!

I'm trying to 'rise above' the disappointment and the frustration of having those unchecked boxes by reminding myself that:

Plans are subject to change

There's been A LOT of change

~and~

These lists are just the 'first drafts' of what ends up writing itself across the blank calendar pages.

We've ended June...a bit bedraggled, and damp around the edges after too much stormy weather, and I'm counting on July to put the sun back in the sky!

Cheers to it finally feeling like summer!

...july plans...