And then there are the days that remind me that I am the mother of a son who deals with challenges. Challenges that people don’t see. Today was one of those days.*
My son had a very hard time settling down last night and didn’t get to sleep until after 11pm. When I went into his room this morning at 8am and woke him up, he was not a happy camper. He was all out of sorts. The first thing that entered his mind was that he had not finished his required reading (that he’d had more than enough time and reminders to do) the previous night. And this set off a chain of anxiety.
From not being fully prepared for the day, to being tired, and having some new post nasal drip, just to add to the mix, Little Man was ramping up to what would become the land of no return. That’s what I call it when some part of his brain floods other parts of his brain with whatever chemical it is that sets off the hamster wheel of anxiety. His brain messes with him.
He did manage to eat some breakfast. But after that, he retreated to the sofa to do more reading. This was about the time he was supposed to be getting dressed and heading out the door to catch the bus. Then he became an immovable object.
Not wanting a battle, I decided that I would drive him to school, thus giving him an extra 20 minutes to get
his ass in gear done whatever would be done before we left. At T minus 5 minutes I asked Little Man to get dressed, and he wouldn’t budge. Tick, tick, tick. Finally at about T plus 15 minutes, he put on some clothes. Tick, tick, tick. Here it came; the incessant ramblings and whining about how hard it is to be at school and how the only time he feels ok is at recess and they’ve been taking away recess lately because of kids’ talking and it’s torture being in class and no one understands him and, and, and (tears).
I told him there was no way in hell he was staying home today and that he needed to get in the car. He asked for some time to pull himself together. Tick, tick, tick. School had just begun by this point. Tick, tick, tick. I went out to warm up the car. When there was no sign of Little Man, I came back inside to find him sitting on the toilet, looking miserable.
When he was finally finished, I waited for him to get his shoes on. More moaning, whining, kvetching about how hard it is to be at school, and that his teacher spends every day yelling at the kids. I told him that we needed to go, and by this point he needed a handful of tissues to dry his eyes and blow his nose.
Finally, I got him into the car, and we sat in the driveway for a while. Then, with a still stressed out, anxiety riddled, crying child, I drove to school. We sat in the school parking lot. He asked for a few minutes to try to get himself together so he wouldn’t look like he’d been crying for the past hour and a half (which he had). The whining ramped up again. I knew the longer I gave him, the worse it would get, so I grabbed an umbrella and ordered him out of the car. Of course, this had to happen during a freaking downpour.
I signed him in exactly one hour into the school day, and walked out of the office a wrung out, stressed out, mess. At times like this, the darkness comes. Driving off, I decided to run an errand. In hind sight, the guinea pig’s hay could have waited until after I had a nap.
Tootling down our country roads between 40 and 50 mph, visions of wrapping the car around a tree or careening off into a deep ditch, filled my head. It would be so easy to end the torture. So easy to do something, anything that would make it so I wouldn’t have to deal with that kid and his difficulties; even if it meant injuring myself or worse. I had definitely entered the darkness.
My errands were spent in a fog of depression. When I got home, after more fantasies of driving off the highway into oblivion, it was all I could do to stoke the wood stove and flop into the recliner.
So, just what the hell was really going on? I called a trusted, dear, psychic friend to get some clarity. This is what a good psychic reading does: gives you clarity into what’s really going on in a situation. That’s where the name clairvoyance comes from. Clear seeing.
Over the past month, I’ve been having regular hypnotherapy sessions and recently added working with a medical intuitive. The goal of seeing these people is my personal healing. It’s clearing out old emotions that had become trapped within me. Over time, these can develop into disease. I’m retrieving bits of my soul that were cut off when I was little. I’m changing beliefs that are not serving me any longer, keeping excess weight with me.
With all of this energy work, I am literally releasing things like sadness and anger from my physical body. My friend explained to me that because Little Man is so exquisitely sensitive to energy, he picks up on this sadness and anger and doesn’t even know it. And what happens to people who are this sensitive, when energy that isn’t theirs hits their body, is often anxiety. The brain doesn’t know what to do with it. If any of you are fans of the Long Island Medium, Theresa Caputo, when the energy of other spirits tried to get her attention, before she understood what was going on, she would have terrible anxiety attacks. There were some more things going on energetically that caused Little Man’s upset, as well. (Not going to go into detail here- it would require another entire post to fully explain it).
I recognized that my dark mood although very uncomfortable, was temporary. And by the end of the next day, I was back to my usual self. I have learned that one of the side effects of doing energy work where I am releasing old, uncomfortable crap, can be irritability and moodiness. (That, and zits). When coupled with a son who is reacting badly to the energy leaving me, it can make for one rough day.
The beauty in all of this is that I’m doing my work. I’m shedding old, stuck, ugly, detrimental energy patterns that, if left alone, would almost certainly end up as a cancer in my body (considering how much cancer is rampant in my family), or heart disease, or some other illness. I am learning about myself. And I am healing my body and my soul, quite literally.
*I began writing this piece, this past Wednesday.