42 and So Much More

I truly believe that children unwittingly posses the secrets of the universe.  Hidden inside the innocence of the child's mind is the wisdom of lifetimes. The meaning of life, the answers to moral quandaries, and the reasons for our existence are unconsciously guarded by the youth.

As they fumble through the world, struggling to learn how to be, kids seem to draw from a pool of knowledge that adults can’t access.  Children inherently understand intricate aspects to complex situations. They need surprisingly little assistance to interpret adult problems. Kids simply know what’s going on around them. Then, just as they begin to ask the questions to the answers they maintain, a curious thing happens.  They lose it all.

As they age, this knowledge begins to slip away from them. They learn everything that we teach them, all while losing their grasp on the answers to questions we will spend our lives researching. Children mature into a lost world of confused and misguided intent.

They undergo a period of adolescence rife with intense emotions and feelings of isolation. They become angst-ridden by how misunderstood they are as they cling desperately to the things we have all lost. Teens experience turmoil as the child within them treads water; striving for just a few more gasps of air before the adult suffocates them, and their knowledge sinks below the surface.

Going Back

A few years ago I met a four year old with a peculiar habit of misplacing his possessions. At first he simply forgot them. He'd come to school, place all his belongings in their appropriate space, and then manage to leave without them. His guardians were aware of this. Rather than make a big fuss that he sometimes came home without his coat and/or backpack, they would send him in the next day with a spare. Some days that meant he'd leave with more than he could carry.


In order to help, I began reminding him to double check that he had all of his items before leaving. I'd call out as he ran off to play. He'd return; frustrated and growling. This is when the habit evolved.

Suddenly, this child's belongings were nowhere to be found. It was as if the end of the day had caused everything he owned to vanish. He'd leave for the day bewildered and empty handed, but seemingly pleased with himself. We'd go about our business of cleaning up after the kids, and eventually discover his coat in the corner behind the recycling bin, or his backpack stowed beneath a classmate's who hadn't left yet.

This kid was intentionally hiding his things from us. He wanted to leave them at school, but why? I couldn't understand it.

Until one day when I was playing with him. He and I were discussing an event that was obviously fantasy. However, for my friend it was experienced as a reality. It was after a long weekend, and I asked about what he had done since we'd last seen one another. He responded that he had run away from home.

"Where did you go?" I asked with elevated concern.
"To school," he replied matter-of-factly.

Realizing that this was a complete impossibility, I relaxed. Intrigued, I continued to ask follow up questions.  I listened, as he described how he had lived at the facility over the weekend. With excitement in his eyes, he explained that he played the entire time. He apparently slept upright in his cubby, and didn't eat anything because he wasn't hungry. He was at peace with his perceived experience. This was his safe place.

And then it clicked. In his brief lifetime, this child was only accustomed to trauma. He had witnessed and experienced nearly every type of abuse there is. This kid had seen more than I care to even think about. He had undergone almost constant change, rejection, and neglect. People said they cared about him, but no one paid attention to him, or endorsed his worth. Then, without much warning, he'd be moved to a new environment. He repeatedly had to adjust to different forms of neglect or rejection. Finally, he came to school, and the adults there actually listened to him. They took care of him, and worried about him when things went awry. He met other kids with similar experiences, and he was welcomed. Despite how hard he tried, he couldn't push these people away. It was unfamiliar, but so refreshing that he developed an insurance policy.

In his short life, everything had been taken from him. He was repeatedly uprooted, and removed from the people he thought were his. By leaving his possessions, he provided himself with the assurance that he would have to come back, at least one more time.

It seemed plausible, but I still felt I needed proof. So, at the end of that day, I caught him running off the playground toward his bus. I called him over, and pointed to his back pack and coat, which were curiously tucked underneath a shrub near the edge of the building.

After he retrieved them, I smiled and asked, "What happens when you get home and find out you don't have your things?"
He shot me the biggest I'm-healing-here smile, and exclaimed "I say: 'bus driver bring me back!'"

The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Image found here

This post began as a laborious rant about how the universe was out to get me today. I intended to tell the tale of how my afternoon was filled with neurotic episodes of ignorance and uncertainty. I planned to depict the histrionic periods of despair I experienced over my inability to function without my parents. I wanted you to feel my pain as I described the moment I stood (surrounded by busy holiday shoppers) outside the mall food court, and felt so alone while I suppressed tears at the thought that one day I will actually have to deal with this concern. Then, I was going to make you laugh as I explained the circumstances that led to my melodramatic melancholy. I wanted you to be humored and sympathetic over the story of how I locked my keys in my car, left my wallet at the movie theater, broke my really nice earrings, and had to park three blocks from the grocery store on a day I chose to wear heels.

However, it wouldn't come out right. I wrote the whole thing two or three times, and it was enough to exhaust any loyal readers away. It filled too many pages, and sounded increasingly absurd and peevish.  What am I even doing here?! I thought. Then, for the third time today, I cried. 

Torn between anger and amusement at my inability to control my emotions, it all came back to my parents, as I suddenly remembered a childhood interaction with my dad.

I can't recall what had led up to the conversation. It was most likely some inane series of events not unlike those I experienced today. It's not really important. What matters is that I had become upset over something that, in the grand scheme of things, did not really matter. I had found myself sobbing on the floor at the corner of the staircase. I was hysterical, and my father had somehow been tasked with pulling me out of it. So, he pulled out one of his infamous pep-talks.

"Really Mindy? This is what you're crying about?" he said. "This is not even a big deal.  You're wasting your tears over nothing. What's going to happen when something really serious happens? Like when you break your leg, and find out you can’t cry anymore because you used it all up over this? Imagine how you'll feel then."

Not necessarily the most helpful advice to give a little girl on the brink of adolescence, but sooner or later I got the message.

So, I'm going to take a page from my past. I'm putting my big girl pants back on (which is funny because this whole thing began when I tried to get my pants hemmed). I've had myself a good cry, or three, and I'm done now. I’m going to save the rest of my tears for the day when I really need them.

The Mist

 When I encounter people who are impaired, I often see a cloud form around them.  After observing them, it gradually becomes obvious that this person can't see clearly.  It’s not that their sight is weakened. They could have near perfect pilot's vision, but something has occurred to make their life go out of focus for them. It's as if a static takes shape around their bodies.  This static gets thicker as it reflects their level of stress or dysfunction. It quickly becomes a translucent cloud.  Then it all starts to make sense.

It's like they're driving at night in thick fog.  They have no idea where they are, and they can't see any of the landmarks to bring things back into perspective. They are lost inside their bodies.

This is not to say that these people shouldn't be held accountable for their actions. Nor am I saying that nothing is their fault.  They're still driving that body. However, it should be kept in mind that they just can't make out what direction they're pointed in, or where a safe place to stop would be.

But then this can get confusing, as there are different kinds of impairments.

Sometimes it's pretty clear that that person knows about the cloud.  They seem to understand that something is off, and they aren't driving straight. Often, this makes things worse.  They might attempt to communicate to the world that they don't understand, but they do it erratically and lose control. They slip and fall repeatedly. This creates pain, and the cloud feeds on pain.  It gets bigger. The impairment grows.  These poor people just can't get out of the storm, but they know it's there so they keep trying. Sometimes the only thing to do for these people is to grab hold of an anchor, tie yourself off, and jump right in with them.  You have to experience their haze in order to help them. You need to take their hand, and let them know you're with them.  Then, slowly but surely, the two of you can climb out together.

In other cases, the person can't see the problem. This is problematic, because their clouds tend to be the biggest and darkest, but they have no idea.  These clouds take over their entire world, but these people go on as if they hadn't. They just continue moving about the fog aimlessly. They think they're headed one way, but they've been off course for some time.

These individuals pose the biggest threat. They'll veer off track and head right for you without noticing. What's worse is there seems to be no way to show them that it's time to slow down and pull over.

Scylla or Charybdis?

 I did a lot of skiing as a child. Every winter I followed my family up the mountain, and chased them back down.  Being the youngest and smallest, I often found myself at the top of a hill I wasn't quite ready for. Sometimes I'd refuse to do it, and we'd find an alternative. However, a startling number of times, I wound up debating my descent, while the rest of my family slipped right on down.  In these moments, I'd try to be brave and tackle the hill head on. 
That never lasted long.  I'd make a couple of really pathetic turns; get myself just far enough down that I couldn't go back up. Then I did what any logical human being would...

I froze. Bent over my pie-pointed tips like a gaper, I'd start to quiver. In most instances, my mother was near by.  She'd try to coax or encourage me, but it wouldn't work.  My early on-set neuroses had taken over.  This was it. The end was near. I was glued to those hills, and in my mind there was no successful way out.

After awhile, my dad would defy convention, and climb back up to me.  We'd find ourselves across from one another, my exceptionally small stature frozen in an awkward attempt to remain upright, and my dad casually resting with his poles propped under his armpits. Then he'd do what my father always did when I became emotional. He'd reason with me. He'd apply exaggerated logic to pull things into perspective and illustrate the simplicity of the situation. The most memorable and representative of these pep-talks went something like this:

"The way I see it you have two choices. You can stay up here forever.  It won't be very comfortable, and it's probably going to get really cold.  But, I guess we might be able to get someone to bring you food every now and then.  I'm not quite sure what you'll do about going to the bathroom though...  OR you can come with me, and we'll ski down to the bottom."

Oh! Of course! It was SO clear. How did I not see it before?!

There's no reason why a speech like that should ever convince a little girl to do something she didn't want to do! But here I am, miraculously not a mountainside resident. I was presented with choices. I weighed my options, and I rejected the one with the least desirable outcome.

If you think about it, this is really what life is all about. It's a series of choices. Some days you'll be picking between bunny runs and a green circles. Other times it will be a rope-tow or blue square afternoon. But, you will also have days that aren't so great.  Days when the snow snakes are abundant, the hills are steep, and the choices seem low.

When this happens you will try to get through it. You'll slow down to think through every turn. But regardless of your preparations, the storm clouds will gather, and fog-up your goggles. Before you know it you will be caught between a double black diamond and a "no way out" sign.

You will feel like you're out of options, but remember that you're not. Despite how it may seem, there is always a choice to make.