Hold the Head High, Mom.

I realized I have one of the most aware young children in the world.  My  oldest is 9 years old.  Well, 9 years going on 30.  He so gets it on another level.  A level which I would never suspect, and one that cannot be taught.  He floors me with his understanding and is able to say what’s not only on his mind, but in his heart as well.

Yesterday, he spotted me in my bedroom while I was attempting to write something for this blog.  I had tears streaming down my face as I wrestled with my own fear of the upcoming school reunion. This one was slated to be one of less clique-action, a chance for us to level the playing field a bit. At least that is the rumor that tends to circulate as we all move towards the middle of the road age-wise. As I sat in my bedroom, all kinds of horrific ideas came to mind. My son asked me what was wrong and I told him I was scared to go back to and see people I had not seen in decades. He patted my hand and talked to me like he was as adult as I was. Well, as adult as I could possible be as a blubbering mass of fear, getting my keyboard wet. I asked what he does in school when he is nervous about his classmates. Many of my readers may know that my son is ADHD and Bi-polar. So, sometimes the over stimulus tends to do a number of the friends he may/may not have. He is aware that there is something “different” as he would rather watch the Discovery Channel and memorize WWII battles, build with legos, or run track.

Yesterday, he looked me straight in the face and told me to walk in, smile, and make friends with everyone.  He had no idea the assignment he had handed me.   Outwardly I smile and hugged and remarked that I had a pretty wonderful son, and wondered where he thought of such advice.  “Easy” he tells me, “I’ve learned from you.”  WOW.  And no, I did not pay him to say that.  With tears in my eyes, I hugged him again and thanked him for his comments.  I drove to my hometown, quaking with fear.  Midway through the trip I was overcome with tears that I could not control.  A good friend would call it paralysis by fear.

I was terrified of the reception I would receive.  I had never ranked high in the social sphere.  While I did my extra curricular activities and I excelled at them, there was always this huge gulf which I could not bridge.  I never did the party scene, did not date, I worked hard at my job and the theatre and debate world.  I did no sports, did not cheerlead, I concentrated in the music and fine arts, a sure status sinker.  To say that my gut churned at the thought of seeing the top echelon would be the understatement of the decade.

An interesting thing happened.  I was online before I left for the reunion and a fellow classmate and I were “chatting” and she mentioned how scared she was to attend.  SCARED?  You!  You had it all…and then she told me about how insecure she had felt, how sometimes scared she was to be who she was, so went with the flow…WHAT!  You had it all, I told her.  Then she tells me how she had felt about watching me all those years.  Could it be?  Could I have had it wrong the whole time?  If only that were true…..

It seems it might have been that way.  You may remember a good friend and class king and I were good friends.  We were and still are to this day.  I saw him last night, along with many other classmates.  We talked, we compared notes, I met his lovely wife and talked kid talk.  Then he handed me the most sage advice ever.  “We make it what we want it.  You were never there in the first place, your perception was the reason you thought you were there.  If they couldn’t handle you and treat you like a human being, that was there fault.”  Oh my goodness.  There were others that spoke to me who had not spoken to me even when  I was in school.  Some of it was surface, others were conversations of depth.  I recall one in particular where we talked of some of the concerns we have about our kiddos.  It was so nice to share the burden with someone else. The same gentleman and I talked about mental health issues and the medications doctors and psychiatrist use to treat Bi polar and depression.  He is not a proponent, yet left the door open to continue conversation.  I may take him up on his offer.  Do I dare?

Tonight we are to karaoke it up with some dance time.  I used to sing.  There is a part of me scared to take the microphone…these are the same people who used to chant in freshman choir “Who is the worst singer in the room, so and so is.  Who should not show her face in choir?”  I was devastated by this comments, they still ring in my ears….despite pulling a 1+ my senior year with my solo…highest award one could receive.

So, I asked my son what I should do tonight…”walk up there mom, close your eyes, take a deep breath and sing to them like you sing to us in the car.  Your voice is beautiful, just like you.”  Do I dare?

My God, I am so lucky to have this child, this beacon of wisdom and unconditional love.  When I hear comments like that it make me think that maybe, just maybe I have done an ok job as a mother.  It also makes me wonder if my good friend was right…Was it all about perception in the first place?  If that is true…is there an age old lion which needs slaying?  Is this a divine call to healing and restoration?

With that thought, I gather my courage for day 2.

shalom,

cindythea