unglued

are you all sick of it yet? my ramblings about zoe and her stickiness?
it's OK if you are, because i am. no really.
last sunday, stucked (that's not a typo). i couldn't even write about it until now. it was gorgeous outside- really perfect. warm, not hot, no bugs, nice breeze, not humid. and so we went hiking. and it was just like zoe was made out of glue. let me pause to define a "sticky thought". it's when you get stuck on something and can't move on. like the fact that you can't bring your dog on the hike. like that you didn't know where your shoes were and someone found them for you. like you didn't meet your friends baby cousin, before your friend did. things that are completely irrational and or minor, become massive and attached. and this was where zoe lived last sunday. stuck. sticky. glue. everything that someone noticed- she was upset that she hadn't noticed. everything that someone thought, she was upset that she hadn't thought it. and literally it went on and on and on. i kept walking wanting to laugh and find some humor in it- but i couldn't. i wanted to find the joy- and if you can't find joy in that kind of beauty- there is a problem. i began to wonder if she needed more meds, if i needed to start some meds. i began to, once again, feel deeply sorry for myself.
we were with another family- OK kind of my family- my best friend since childhood and her three kids. one beautiful newborn, one boy my boys age and one amazing daughter lily, 5 weeks older than my daughter. even with them, these people who know and love us- i felt ashamed. of her. of me and my lack of ability to overcome this sticky day. but i was swallowed by it. my friend happens to be a psychiatrist and she said that how we feel when zoe is like this, is how zoe feels. she 'gives' it to us, because she doesn't know how to deal with it. the only problem is- i don't know how to deal with it either. all i know is that if she felt half as bad as i did on that hike- poor her!

childhood isn't supposed to be like this. it's supposed to be full of wonder and discovery and trying new things and becoming your own person and finding yourself bit by bit. and the slowness or lack of this, is the hardest part to watch.
at the end of the hike the kids wanted to play in this beautiful stream that ran into the river. the three boys and lily took off there shoes and explored-collecting rocks and sticks, feeling the cool moss and algae covered stones under their toes. the sun was poking through the trees and the kids were laughing. it was perfect. and in the exploration, there was risk, small risk. walking upstream on the slippery bottom was hard. there were sharp things to be avoided and three of them fell in. but it was that typical childhood thing of living life-experiencing it with it's small risks- falling in, cutting yourself- loosing your stick or socks- and rolling with it- being OK with the unknown. being OK with the small scrapes. having the risks be worth the growth and knowledge - learning the ultimate lesson of life- that it's worth it. meanwhile - zoe was still stuck. off to the side- talking with herself to help herself calm down. because each new sensation is threatening to her. her intake system reads the small stuff as massive. her perception is that the risk is much too great- and her fear of falling, or not being able to do it the way she thinks she should- inhibits her- so she misses out- but she hates that-so it's doublely bad. and when she's having a day like this- just keeping it together is doing well.
so i sat on a log and watched it. i couldn't engage. was the risk too great for me as well?

i drove home with my friend and our three boys. i couldn't talk about it in the car- because what is there to say? i'm sorry? i hate this sometimes? do you have any idea how lucky you are that you don't have to deal with this in your life? how can you begin to relate to me? these are the things i thought. did they make me feel better? no. did they make me feel more isolated? yes.

that day in church, mike and i had been teaching sunday school and missed the sermon- but the next day i listened to it on CD. it was about suffering. it was about pride in suffering. it was about choosing your faith or not abandoning your faith in suffering. wow. there i was dwelling in it. in the thick of it. letting it run me. feeling superior in the realm of suffering. i was making bad choices.

last fall, when a successful medication began causing zoe side effects i drove the 45 minutes to her psychiatrist for our 7:30 pm add-on appointment. in the car, i cried- trying to not be seen or heard by zoe. i cried because it seemed that no matter what we were doing, it seemed to be foiled. she was finally doing well on this medicine,but had developed a facial tick. the sticky thoughts that had been consuming her were finally better and now what would happen off this med? i was at my wits end. so i drove and cried and prayed. when we went through the toll- i caught site of the bumper sticker on a pick up truck next to me.

"walk by Faith, not by Sight."

and i started to smile. Trust.
Be Still and know that I am God. i've got your back- even when you can see it. i care for her, even more than you do. maybe there is a better plan? maybe there is a medicine that will work even better and not have side effects (and there was).

walk by faith, not by sight- even on that hike. even in the car with your friend and her seemingly perfect family. even when the medicine isn't working. and when it is.
get your toes wet again. stand on the slippery rocks. hold her hands - even when they're sticky. and dont' be afraid to get stuck too.