AWOL, hibernating, underground, or perhaps all of the above. Whatever you want to call it, I was off for the winter relocating my zen. Where do you find yours? You know, your zen, your inner-harmony, or (my new favorite
descriptor) your flow? Flow [the noun form] that is the mental state of operation, an existence where time doesn’t dominate, living in a complete state of
contentedness and calm, experiencing and taking in the now, unaware of future
happenings or to-do lists, absorbing every
single breath, sight and sound of what is.
Tricky stuff, that flow is. But
when I have it - and manage to keep it, I wouldn’t trade it for a million dollars.
I find mine in the most unexpected places.
I find it here. . .
We started the New Year with Bridger quite sick. Subsequently, we spent another week in the
hospital in quite fragile health. He had
layering complications which ultimately were causing his liver to shut
down. One may think that would be a very
trying period. Indeed it is. It is never easy to carry on with a normal
life for the other four at home, managing activities, meals, homework and hugs
while a mom is in the hospital and dad juggles being a busy attorney and a Mr.
Mom when he comes home from work. We go through it all too often and
it doesn’t get easier, it is just part of our life. But that is where I find my flow. Our hospital room was so peaceful - Bridger
oozes love even when he is in a practically comatose state and the nurses,
doctors and staff feel it and comment to such.
I am told from the nurses that when the new nurses come on for the next
shift our previous nurses boast to them how lucky they are to have us on their
caseload that day. This hospital stay was full of moments to
reflect, time to chew on some deep thoughts that get buried inside me, wonderful
conversations with nurses and doctors that resulted in a new possibility to be
a presenter to medical students on the critical balance in maintaining a
healthy, thriving family while caring for a medically complex child. I came out as refreshed as if I had just spent a week in the Poconos.
So how do I find flow in our hospital stays? I have to give credit to a couple of wonderful
neighbors who are truly compassionate and serve because of that. Too often people serve out of duty. Service doesn’t necessarily breed compassion,
but true compassion always breeds service.
Harmony came in the form of a
wonderful visit from a dear friend that
lives a parallel life caring for her daughter with special
needs. But I think the larger force in
finding my flow here is realizing when everything is out of your control, that
there is really nothing you can do about it.
So that takes away the need to worry, to plot, to plan. You just exist where you truly are and savor
what truly is.
I also find it here.
I really do.
Disney, for us, is just like the commercial states –
Magical. There was no better way to celebrate restored health than a week in Florida. I will do this vacation justice in a separate blog post to come but will sum it up with three words. Best week ever. We flew down, rented a super huge white extended van complete with vinyl floors and a electronic back-up beeper (which the kids thought was the best car eVeR), stayed in our favorite off-site 3 bedroom accessible condo, and hit all the parks. Best week ever.
Bridger loves Disney in a way that is hard to describe. Every morning since, the first thing he says when he wakes up is "I wah go DEEDEE". No translation needed. He cried every time he got off a ride, despite our best efforts to convince him that there would be another fun ride in a matter of minutes.
I was told once by a woman that, “You people,” ('you people'
was referring to you special needs families) “have it so easy!” She then
launched into a nauseating monologue on how her son can’t stand in line for an
hour for a ride at Disney either and how all of our perks make life so
easy. Comments like that are real
zen-deflators. May I interject that I
would wait in line for a hundred hours for the Peter Pan ride if it meant that
Bridger could stand on his on legs beside me.
I would trade bypassing the Splash Mountain lines if it meant that he
wouldn’t have a seizure waiting in the parade line. Disney World for us still comes with hours of
Bridger screaming from over stimulation, with finding quiet cool places to tube
feed, change a very large diaper or lifting 65 pounds out of his chair and into
rides dozens of times a day, along with the regular challenges of herding the
other 4 cats around an overcrowded park.
But despite all of that, I find my flow there. It is a place where I see true excitement and
utter joy screaming out of Bridger’s eyes at the same time of all my other
children. What is exciting to the others
usually is quite the contrary to Bridger.
To have everyone smiling all at once is priceless.
Lastly, I find it here.
The small and simple pleasure of taking a scalding bath in
my extra long soaking tub filled with chocolate fudgy cake bubble bath from
Sephora, an organic peppermint candle and a good book. And when the lights go down in our big top
at 20:00 hours, I can enjoy utter silence and my simple pleasure of my long
bath. I find my flow there too.
I don’t find my flow in yoga classes wearing the cutest
yogini tops, or in exotic tropical destinations with my husband. Groupon and Living Social are such evil
teasers – blasting me with visual reminders of the incredible sites and travels
I am missing out on for unbelievable low prices. Those
sites torment special needs moms as we realize we will never have those
experiences. It is a luxury when we can go grocery shopping. I won’t have palms and white sand any time in
my near future. I can’t put off waiting to find my inner peace in a bulky bit if “me time”. I won’t find my flow in any of these places because these things will never happen. I find that time stands still in those every
day moments like now, when I am having a second to think and type, while I
entertain more medical phone calls in between sentences, crunching on some
delicious almonds while my little spunky girl sits next to me drawing and
spilling her juice box on my to-do list.
Yes, even in my flow, I still have one of those silly lists.