We were enjoying our off-campus visits with Jonah.
Until we weren’t.
One weekday visit, Jonah attacked Andy in his apartment. Andy called for help, and luckily his landlord was outside and came running. It was a violent attack, and it scared the hell out of Andy. He may not have been able to subdue Jonah on his own. Then Jonah attacked Briana at the residence, and the other staff member at the house couldn’t get him off her. She called on the walkie-talkie for additional staff. She was bitten several times, and I don’t know what else – but she was out of work for several days. The last straw came in the car, on another weekday visit. Jonah wears a safety harness, but his legs and arms are so long that he was able to kick and grab at Andy. Andy almost got in an accident pulling over, then nearly got hit getting out of the car.
It’s just not safe to take Jonah off the campus anymore. We had a behavioral team meeting and we urged them to place Jonah back on a 4-person takedown protocol. We gave permission for Anderson staff to record Jonah’s aggressions (though how they’re going to do this is beyond me). And we made our case for the necessity of this move, though in my eyes it’s clearly evident.
And so we’re repeating the “slow on the driveway” visits we had earlier in the summer. For the past two weeks, I’ve met Andy on campus to get Jonah. We bring him a breakfast sandwich and he eats it on the picnic table outside the residence. Then we drive him around and around and around the campus while he chooses the music. This past Saturday he tried to grab me from the backseat of the car. If I had my long hair, he would’ve gotten me…but I pulled away quickly and escaped injury. Andy pulled over, I got out, and we gave Jonah a “time out” from music and car ride.
Andy says, “Jonah, I want you to have safe –“
Jonah: Hands.
Andy: And?
Jonah: Feet.
Minutes later, my son and I are singing along to “Watermelon Sugar” and smiling. Andy guides the car along the campus roads, pulling over and getting out every so often to take on a hygiene task, breaking them up so as not to overwhelm Jonah. One stop is for teeth brushing. Another is for cleaning his ears. Another to clip his nails. Clean his hands and face. Pop a pimple. After an hour or so, we tell Jonah “two more songs and then campus walk.” One more loop. Time for walk.
We knock on the residence door to tell them we’re going on the walk. The first time, Briana came with us, bringing her walkie-talkie. This past Saturday, we walked him around the campus on our own, making sure to bring our cell phones to call her if Jonah flipped out. He didn’t.
Once again, we are navigating new waters. If the weather doesn’t cooperate, there are mock-apartments at the campus center for us to use. We’ll have to do the best we can.
During all of this eating, car-riding, and walking, Jonah wants reassurance we are coming back. “Repeat?” he asks. This means he wants us to tell him when.
Andy: Daddy’s coming in 3 days. Daddy’s coming on Wednesday.
Jonah: Repeat?
Andy: Daddy’s coming in 3 days. Daddy’s coming on Wednesday.
Jonah: Repeat?
Andy: Daddy’s coming in 3 days. Daddy’s coming on Wednesday.
Jonah: Repeat?
Andy: Daddy’s coming in 3 days. Wednesday.
Jonah: Repeat?
Andy: Jonah, listen to me. Daddy’s coming in three days. Daddy is coming on Wednesday. Now be quiet and listen to the music.
This might buy us a while. Half a song or so. Sometimes I provide the answers Jonah seeks. Daddy’s coming in 3 days, Boo! Daddy’s coming on Wednesday. Momma’s coming in 6 days. Momma’s coming on Saturday. I vary the pitch and tone of the answer, sometimes singing it.
“Repeat?” he asks again and again. The repetition of repeat is too perfect.
Andy and I adapt and settle into whatever new reality comes along with Jonah, to the best of our ability, changing it up as many times as is necessary, which in 2020 has been a lot.
Our son is tall and handsome in the autumn sun.
Whatever we have to do to keep him (and everyone else) safe and happy, we will do, of course.
I stopped pondering why he was able to go 18 months without aggressions and now they’re back – with a vengeance, as they say. I guess because of Covid. Plenty of breaks in routine and strange people. Months without seeing mama or daddy. Changing visits – first we can’t go off campus, then we can, now we can’t again. I suppose we were due for this.
First, there is a mountain. Then there is no mountain. Then there is.
Since the rise of Covid, I’ve gone from walking 2 miles a day on the treadmill to painting 2 rocks a day to meditating 2 times a day. I guess I’m still walking and painting, just not as much.
On my 51st birthday I started using this app I found called Serenity, which has 10-minute guided meditations. The first 7 are free; after that I was hooked, so I bought a 6-month subscription for 20 bucks. I don’t think I’m alone in saying meditation has always been difficult, the few times I actually tried it. My monkey mind provides a near-constant self-narrative comprised of visiting the past, predicting the future, critiquing myself and others, recalling song lyrics, movie scenes, and conversations, etc. But what I am learning allows for all of this. The goal is not to yank your mind away from the chatter but rather let it flow, gently guiding your mind back to the breath, back to the breath. I am breathing in. I am breathing out. I am breathing in. I am breathing out.
Repeat.
But there is so much more. Serenity teaches different ways to explore your mind – visualizing thoughts as words or pictures on a screen, recognizing types of thinking patterns as they occur to prevent fusing with them, practicing gratitude, fostering compassion, allowing both body and mind to rest. Stretch your arms, wiggle your fingers and toes, she says in her (Australian?) accent at the end of each meditation. I’m on my way to enlightenment, guys, 10 minutes at a time and enjoying the journey. I never thought I’d look forward to meditation but I definitely do, and find myself carving out more and more time for it.
Then I read Lovingkindness: The Revolutionary Art of Happiness by Sharon Salzberg, and learned how to send metta to myself and others. Then I read it again, and bought copies for 3 friends. I encouraged my peeps to try the Serenity app – I think there are 5 or 6 of us doing it now. It feels so good. What’s not to like?
I’m learning ways to sit in meditation on my own, unguided, each time creating larger and larger pockets of “silent mind.” It has been transformative. I think the greatest benefit is the cultivation of mindfulness. I practice noticing emotions as they rise and placing distance between them and my action/reaction or speech. I practice doing what I’m doing and being where I am – two things with which I’ve always had difficulty.
For example, when I am doing the dishes, I need to just do the damn dishes – not thinking about what I’m going to do after I do the dishes.
Now I am breaking it down even further… to just pick up a dish, then just pick up the sponge. Then just reach for the dishwashing soap, then just apply the sponge to the dish, and so on. Each task – and each piece of that task – met mindfully. What I used to write off as clumsiness really was me just throwing myself from task to activity without really ever thinking about what the hell I was doing.
In addition, I was rushing through Monday to get to Friday. Rushing through dinner to get to dessert. Rushing through things I thought of as “bad” to arrive at others I have labeled “good” – when all the while there is only the present moment. There is only now.
Ahhh, Daniel-san. If do right, no can defend.
I crack myself up with these eureka moments when I think I’ve got it all figured out. Go ahead, laugh. I’m laughing too.
When things ring true, though, I can’t deny the truths. I feel as though I am approaching life from a place of greater peace. And I can’t deny the results, even though I only have the faintest comprehension of the process. It feels good the way the walking and the painting feels good –and then some.
I come back to the breath, back to hope, back to love.
Repeat.
The Never Normal 