This morning, he wanted to join me on my walk. Before we left our driveway, he asked, "Can we have our Just 10?" I reply, "Sure." I know that this will be the perfect time to have our talk, to tell him what we share in common. I started by asking him how he was doing. I told him I know that yesterday was a hard day for him and did he have any idea why? He said, "I don't know why but I couldn't get to sleep the night before. I was up until 11:30 p.m." He goes to bed at 9 during the summer. The old-school mom in me almost gets caught up in a lecture or at the least an admonition about getting to bed earlier but I know that his trouble sleeping is part of his constellation of symptoms. I put scolding on a shelf, a shelf so high I can't reach it.
Since, young Mr. A was in the room the day of his school eval, I asked him what he remembered about that day and what was said. He knew that he had really improved in the social skill department and felt pleased. He also knew he still qualified for educational support. He understood some of his challenges perfectly and articulated them to me. He didn't have a clue what bipolar meant. Here was my opportunity. I tried not to let the weight of the discussion crush me.
I, who hate the confinement of a label, gave him a quick and simple definition. I explained that his low feelings were more intense than the average kid and that his silly times were a little zanier than average. I explained that the medicine he takes morning and evening is to help balance out the sad and the silly. And then I took the leap and said, "Andrew, I have it too. I take medicine to help me balance my moods just like you do." He responded with, "Really. You do?" "Yes, really" I replied.
He was quiet, letting the words sink in. I gave him a bit of silence and then asked, "How do you feel about what I told you?" He said, "Curious." Then he quickly asked, "Is it bad to have this?" I had the tiger by the tail. What I said next could really matter. I took another leap.
"Well, this can be a challenge. We feel things more intensely. Sometimes, we can get stuck in thinking that how we feel about something is also the way things really are. Feelings are not the whole truth. They can mislead us especially because they feel so strong. We have to learn how to talk to ourselves inside so we can make good decisions even when we don't feel like doing so." I told him that our "sads"can feel a lot worse than other people's normal "sads" but that we can also have some incredible fun because we can get an extra dose of happy sometimes too." I told him that I wanted him to come to me and tell me if he ever finds himself feeling really bad. He said, "Ok," and nothing more. I asked him how he felt about all this and he said, "I think it's interesting." I said, "Yes, yes, it certainly can be."
We said more than recorded here but not much. I'm relieved to have opened the door on what I hope will be future dialogue. When Mr. A asked, if it were something bad, I found myself taking a hard look at the inventory in my own mental arsenal. I answered him as simply and as truthfully as I could at that moment. My life for all its ups and downs (mostly downs) has been exquisitely rich, a beautiful tapestry of vivid experiences. I have often lost sight of this beauty especially when the view is clouded by depression. My experience has taught me this: by hanging on, by choosing to believe that things will change, one day I awake to the promise of sun. Age has brought me many gifts. Some I'd like to return to the author of this life. There are others, like the wisdom born of time, experience and yes, suffering for which I am forever grateful. May they serve me well as I try to guide my son. He is a fascinating and delightful mixture of darkness and light. I wouldn't trade him and all that he is for any other.
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