My world turned on a dime two weeks ago. In an instant, I felt like I was in a fast-moving vehicle on the highway, skidding out of control, yet time defied the law of physics as the wheels screeched, the car spun out, fish-tailing and beginning to flip. It may still be on its side, mid flip, and I’m praying my son is in his seat belt and that we will land safely off to the side of the hectic freeway. That’s how it felt when I learned my nine-year-old nearly committed suicide last year. Thank God he told me. I’m beyond sad. And, everything else has come into sharp focus for me. ALL of my choices. ALL of my daily activities and where my attention goes on a daily basis is all under sharp scrutiny. My life for the past nine years has slowed down in my mind, frame by frame, allowing me to analyze how I have been living. I’m making brave choices right now too, as it’s becoming drastically clear what I can—and should—be doing differently to make my baby a priority. I guess you can say I’m in triage mode.
Two weeks ago I found out my baby, who was home with his big brother on a Saturday morning when I was teaching two yoga classes, actually got severely depressed. His big brother, doing what big brothers do, decided to go out with friends and let his little eight-year-old brother play on the XBox. But the gaming got my youngest depressed and sad. He said he thought about all the boys who had been bullying him at school. He thought about how my life would be better if he had never been born. He said he knew his big brother and I would still be living in London with his dad—that his dad would never have left, had he never been born. My heart exploded. My youngest put a knife to his throat and allowed it to make a mark as he said he listened to two voices: one saying to do it, that he didn’t deserve to live, that he was a bad kid. The other saying not to do it, not to crush his mother or his brother. I thank the angels who must have intervened that day and convinced him to put the knife down.
My heart aches. Six months went by and he never told me. Last week, he tried it again. Or he tried to grab a knife again. I took it away from him. All knives are hidden in my house now. How can he not see how adorable, kind, loving, smart and fun he is? How can he not see the lovable and deserving person he is? We’ve been doing gratefuls every night since he was born. It’s not enough. I got him a life and sport coach two months ago. A kid who is beyond inspiring and fun. They exercise, they create mantras and goals for the week, but it works temporarily. Like exercise in general, my son gets the lift from the exercise, but the next day he’s down again. I put him in a brain study at USC and it proved his IQ is very high and that he is emotionally and intellectually about 3 grade levels above his level. This week the neuroscientists concluded he feels isolated because the boys in third grade bore him or are too physical with him. Much too physical.
So I’m exploring my options. I’ve reached out to therapists. One wanted $300 /hour and six months of therapy payment upfront. Um. NO. One of the neuroscientists at USC is working on finding me someone who takes insurance.
But really, my little guy just needs a friend. I was insanely shy when younger, but I had that one BFF. It makes all the difference in the world. In Hermosa Beach, capital of volleyball and a town that attracts professional athletes, most kids at his school are very active, cocky and surf boy stylish. James is cerebral and artistic and would rather read a book that most sixth graders are reading He isn’t fitting in. He’s been hit, kicked, slapped, punched and even had a baseball bat to his gut on the playground. Nothing done.
So, I’m exploring my options. But being a full-time single mom who can now never, ever leave him alone, it’s scary. I won’t lie. I have no family here who can help on a daily basis, I can’t afford a nanny, and know few friends who get it, or who I could trust, or even who have kids this age. But I’m hopeful. And I’m making major changes that need to be made.
Within two weeks, I broke up with someone I had only been dating a month. He was selfish. He demanded a lot of my time. He whined and kept asking me to drive long distances to see him and he gave nothing in return of significance. He didn’t understand what I’m going through, nor does he really care. Done. I’m not dating, AT ALL, for a long time. My son comes first. I’m dropping teaching yoga classes that are in the evening or require three + hours of my time to open the studio, and to lock up after, as my son can not be alone, ever. And I can’t risk something happening while my older son is babysitting. Can you imagine? That would be cataclysmic.
I’m looking into alternative schools and seeing if they will offer scholarships based on the findings from the USC study. Next week I take off most of my yoga classes and have put my son into an advanced science rocket camp at the California Science Center. I’ll drive downtown every day and hang out there in case he needs me, squeeze in some writing time. I’m trying to talk with his dad too, as he’ll be seeing the boys for a few weeks in early August. He can’t leave his son alone, ever. I’m scared too death. But I have to trust the Universe, trust that his big brother will be ‘on’ during their vacation and I’m choosing to believe my son who promised he won’t try to hurt himself again. And, I’m getting a pet. That’s a BIG compromise for me. I’ve honestly gotten ‘over’ pets. I grew up with them: cats, dogs, rabbits, birds, frogs, you name it, we had it. But now I’m tired of fur everywhere: choking on it in bed, or having wet dog or cat food smell in a small house. It turns my stomach. But we need more unconditional love in this house, so I’m getting a pet this weekend. Something for my son to love, to help take care of, and to look forward to seeing when he returns from visiting his dad.
Life is hectic right now, but also beautiful. I’m razor focused on the love I have for my boys. I’m focused on the kind of life I need to live to keep them safe, to help them feel loved and to one day thrive. Eventually I will find the support I need. Instead of focussing on what I don’t have and what I can’t do, I’m focussing on what I DO have and what I CAN do. I miss my mom desperately, who died of early onset Alzheimer’s. She was amazing with my kids and such a kind soul. But life goes on. USC will likely be my boon for finding support. A concerned therapist gave me her cell phone number. I’m beyond touched by their kindness and open hearts. The owner of the main yoga studio where I work, is adjusting my schedule so I can mainly teach morning classes and another studio in town is hiring me for day classes only. And my oldest will have to pitch in for now when I need help. His little brother can never be alone until stable.
IF I don’t blog in a while, just know I’m focussed and wishing you love & light.