Lately I have been going down to visit Boo every other Sunday, watching the weather with trepidation every time, for if it’s raining, it’s ruined. So far, so good. We’ve been able to enjoy sunshine and mild temperatures. We love our time walking together, almost always holding hands – and lately, toward the end of our walk, I’ve been asking Jonah if he wants to go on the swings. Yes, he does, every time I ask. He always wants me to hold my phone up so he can hear the songs on the playlist we always listen to; I get him started by pushing, then he takes over, swinging higher and higher. I have a little compilation of photos, gathered by taking so many pictures with my phone that one or two is bound to come out well:
My time with him is so precious to me. It is when I am happiest.
I’ve been avoiding the blogging because I have been low, the scared feelings occupying more and more of each day. Where it used to be I’d wake with fear at 4 or 5 am, it now bleeds into morning, afternoon, and evening, staining days with anxious desperate panic episodes that don’t subside.
It is exhausting and I don’t know what’s happening but I took on a lot in April-into-May, a not-so-great work trip to Little Rock where I spoke up about needing to consider those with severe intellectual and developmental disabilities, this at an independent living conference, which as you can imagine made it awkward and I the enemy — and then right after it I went on what was supposed to be a vacation in California, but my dear cousin Donny died the morning of the first day, which cast a sadness over the week; I missed the wake and funeral services — then just after that I went to a cabin-in-the-woods weekend with 5 friends during which I worried, perseverated, couldn’t be alone. I’m not 25 anymore and shouldn’t have crammed so much in so little time.
There is a lot going on in my brain and I’m having difficulty finding the mental health care I need. The first 3 psychotherapists I called from my insurance company website told me they were not accepting new patients. The 4th told me to just find a psychiatrist – but I know from experience that most of them just do med management, and that’s not what I need. It’s frustrating to seek care and it’s just not available – and when you are feeling mentally ill, it’s so difficult to be tenacious.
I need rest and I revel in the simple times with my son.
I’ll come back when I’m in a better frame of mind. If I keep typing today I will ramble and bitch and I don’t really want to share my jumbled panicked thoughts.
At least the spring is springing, and my boo is swinging. I’ll take it, for now.
The Never Normal 