I got a note from Zoom’s teacher today.  I had a moment.  It’s one of those moments you get all teary and proud and then realize it’s everything you wanted.  But it doesn’t look like success on the outside as obviously as you’d like.  And you KNOW I love those!  Those moments that make us realize we’re celebrating the right things for the right reasons.  We’re not buying into the story the world gives us.  We’re not giving up.  We’re not hoping our kids, ourselves, our lives are something they’re not.  We’re not writing narratives that twist the way we see reality, so it can be more palatable, less grotesque and in moments like these, less glorious for the light that shines through them.   

It’s simple and complex.  But he hates school.  My son hates school.  Something I don’t understand.  Something I don’t know how to help with.  Something most teachers, specialized or otherwise, don’t know how to help with.  Something a few amazing teachers have addressed and succeeded at affecting positively.  But he needed attention.  And I write this knowing that I will see something new, writing it down.  He needed extra attention.  I grew up getting a lot of attention, but I didn’t know if I needed attention.  It was something bestowed, based on my accomplishments.  And I accomplished, sometimes purposely, sometimes not.  And in my quest to raise children who could see themselves through their own lenses, I succeeded.  And I struggled with it.  I tried to inspire them.  I read.  I worked hard.  I went to counseling to get my own shit together, in case I was keeping them from thriving.   

And this year, maybe like every year, I let go some more.  But instead of just letting go…  I let go of him.  I slowly let go.  I slowly watched him become a man physically and then fight back and rebel and use his mouth and sharp mind to be more, in a context that he wanted to be more.  He didn’t fight to exist in a more profound way in my world, the world I and so many of us have constructed for ourselves and those around us to fit into.  I watched him trip in the world I succeed in.  I watched him spit on the ideas and status symbols we love to measure each other by.  I watched him create himself amidst that.  And stand by it.  Partly because that is how he is built.  Partly because it is what I fucking taught him!  And partly because he doesn’t fit in the world the way I do.  His puzzle pieces don’t fall into place the way mine do.  He doesn’t have the same skills.  And instead of saying how I was letting go.  And I was.  And I did.  I reached back inside myself with the hands I’d been holding on with.  I reached inside myself and quit trying to fix the reflection or tilt the mirror or make it about my failures and successes.  I quit trying to make sense of it or give him excuses or find the magic elixir of health to give him what he needed to…   

To what?!   

What did I want him to do?  To get better grades?  To find a way to get along with teachers better?  To quit being so sassy?  Is that what I wanted?   

Did I want to change him or marginalize him, the way we all fight not to be marginalized as races, as genders, as socioeconomic levels, by education, by knowledge, by fear, by bravery, by rebellion?   

Or was I missing what he was trying to say?  I metaphorically sat back instead of yelling or grabbing his arm or trying to turn his head or give him different shoes to fill.  And there was space.  Not uncomfortable space.  Just space.  Quiet space.  Those years of trying to meditate, doing yoga, learning to breathe…   

I just focused on my breath and pictured my son in front of me, with a beautiful beam of light all around him.  What did I see?   

What beautiful things was I not focusing on?  What things were we all missing?  How much of that rebellion was because of him screaming to be seen, to be accepted, to be held, but not physically?  How much of him was exactly on the path he needed to be and how much kicking and screaming would keep him from moving forward or through or around obstacles, if he was trying to fight me or his dad or brother or teachers or society?   

I started to build trust with him, over little things.  I started asking him to choose things or do things he had relied on his brother to take over.  I started to see him as a beautiful piece of art with soft and hard edges.  I began to ask questions, the way I would a friend or client or any human being I wanted to learn about.  I started to smile more when he made me laugh.  His wit is chilling and fast and anything I would want in someone I respected.  His problem-solving is beyond his age, only he hasn’t been able to hone it, except in his virtual world, because his brother’s age and aptitude has outshined his, for no other reason, than we had all accepted it.  Acceptance.  Not shaking things up.   

His point of view.  His insight.  The way he sees through actions and souls and motivations of people he knows, people he has just met…  He is unflinchingly honest and forthright.  He doesn’t pretend he is something he’s not.  He has no time for fighting for things he knows he won’t give in to.  So he shuts down.  Not because he is only rebellious.  He has fucking boundaries.  And if you didn’t hear him, well, he probably already told you.   

He wants respect.  He wants his own respect.  He is a second child of a strong, intelligent, willful, wild soul of a brother, who has tried to control him.  Who isn’t like other kids, who makes simple things difficult at times, whose emotional needs overshadowed his as a child because they were bigger, so much bigger.   

So when you asked him what he needed, well, he couldn’t tell you.  He was busy figuring out if he was going along with or fighting his brother, his family.  And if you ask him what he needs now, he will try to say.  In fact, I’ve heard him ask.  I have worked hard to follow through on the things he says he needs, so he knows he is the priority.  Too.   

So today when he got a little win at school, a bigger win than ever…  I realized I was excited that he had gotten better grades, the things we measure by.  I was excited for that.  But not because he got good grades.  I was happy because the reason he has rebelled against it all, to make a point, to be different, to fight the norm, to show his boundaries are in place, to say ‘fuck you’ if you want to make him something he’s not.  He’s already moved enough, given enough, gotten out of the way enough….  

 Well, he felt comfortable doing well in those areas we all measure.  He felt more comfortable in his skin, more capable of taking care of himself, more seen.  More heard.  More loved for who he is.  Not accepted.  Loved.  Not seen.  But also adored.  For whatever he chooses.  For when we meet each other where we are, for who we are, the message isn’t lost!  Our inner needs aren’t necessarily figured out, but the voice of a person asking, the feel of a promise kept, the explanation of the reason one can’t have what they want, at least right now…  The strength of knowing the path to get what you do want and knowing that YOU are now in charge of telling others what you need to get there, because they are going to support you, where you are, for who you are.  And fucking give their very best to see you….   

Well, you start to believe you know, you start to see the path.  You can stand up instead of fighting or laying down on the road.  You can shake off and be unafraid of feeling stupid or guessing wrong.  You can look yourself in the eye.  And goddamnit.  You can not just accept.  You can LOVE it.  And my dears, no matter how you measure life, what successes you have weighed…  at the end of the day, they all mean absolutely nothing if you have to monitor their changes constantly and the approval of others.  IF you are lucky enough to love yourself and live in your body and feel your own success and have space and time to love those around you, because you can trust them to be on the path with you…  what you could do!  And I don’t mean anything but living in skin that feels the air on a windy day, the kiss of the sun, the strength of your own mind, the weaknesses of your character and you know today is your day with all the badges you wear.  And because there is no time to punish, you carry it forward, light and holding light with those around you. You can run faster!  You can walk slowly and see what’s going on.  You can be agile.  You can take in new information.  You can make decisions easily.  And adjust as necessary. 

I feel empowered today.  And I feel both sad and elated I could have this moment to feel what beauty is at this age…  But I pray my children feel this, what I imagine they are powerful enough to achieve, at a much younger age, or any age.   

I love you, my child.  I love the person you are and are continuing to share with me.  And I can’t wait to see the very most beautiful truth you continue to discover.  May you continue to not accept but love you and give this gift to those around you, who deserve that gift too.   

With love today!

CC

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