Words, captive in my head, vibrate like freshly-trapped squirrels in a dark, hollow crate. Spinning ceaseless, going nowhere, all in a panic. I can barely construct what I want to write, but I’m free to demonstrate my difficulty doing so.
My days are this: thin. Spread taut between nails, rapidly drying out at sunrise and split by the rising full moon. There is no honeycomb for thoughts, and very little time for guesswork. Each mark feels indelible: a pursed lip at the first grade classroom door, extracted by Ford’s exhausted teacher; the moment I yell at Chas for screaming joyfully into my ear (quite by his accident); the angular tension between my eyebrows.
Some people more in tune with their bodies and minds would suggest I can’t think straight because I am trying to do too much. I say I am fumbling while trying to live on my own terms.
True, I could focus on one thing or another. I could scour books tonight about childhood development to find a possible cause of Ford’s intense participatory excitement in school, or I could shrug it off to an active boy trying to live life on his own terms, as well.
I could say one hundred Hail Mary’s for the trauma I inflicted on Chas, who was just as angry with me for shrieking as I was for his screaming in my ear. How insane it is to expect a 4 year-old to ignore the power of his own ego: “Give it up, world! I’m the shit in this beeping, light-up Ben 10 Omnitrix watch!” You can’t hold in that kind of joy.
Who’s to blame, really? The energy within this house bounds, unmitigated, through each and every one of us within its walls in completely different ways. Some of us channel it better than others, that’s all. I think Damon rides this force on his bike all the way to work, through his day and back home again, for example. At the other extreme, I grab it by the throat, wrestle it into the box within my head, and let it vibrate for a couple of hours each night.
That probably explains the exhaustion.
I laughed…So. Freakin. Hard at your son’s “give it up world…” Still giggling now, it’s kind of hard to type!
He’s actually pretty eloquent. I think my boys are simply yelling, “die, die” more often then not.
I always like to remind them the teachers (and myself) that these type of personalities are the movers and shakers in the world. They will do GREAT things. And the world needs them just as they are.
So beautifully and well written friend.
Love ya,
a.
thanks, Andie
xo
wow. it continues to unnerve me how alike our worlds are. i don’t think they make numbers big enough for the hail mary’s i owe the universe.
*this* is a great way to channel that energy.
first, that photo is amazing. i’m still trying to get my head around it.
second, i get it. all of it. everything you wrote in your post.
some days i have to keep reminding myself that we are who we are. we don’t have to put a label on it/us (if we don’t want to), we don’t have to seek therapy for it (if we don’t want to), we don’t have to medicate ourselves (if we chose not to). the only thing we are obligated to do is to FIND OUR OWN WAY.
thanks for writing this post. and doing it so beautifully i might add.
you rock!
hey you, missed you. wow looks like you are a revolving top of emotions. and i agree ford will do great things, energy like that will not go wasted.
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Peace,
Kelly