We all sail through this journey of life, holding fast to the tiller, sometimes steering with all our might, and sometimes letting the wind and current move us where they will. We head out to sea, looking for grand adventures, tacking and jibing around objects, raising and lowering the sails. Coming in to port during storms, and occasionally needing to ride them out at sea.
Sailing isn’t a world of moving from point A to point B in a straight line. And neither is life. It’s a journey including several changes in course, and course corrections as necessary. And within each voyage, there are obstacles, both seen and unseen. Rocks and shifting sands, sometimes above the water where we can see them, and sometimes below. Much of the time, we pass by or over them with grace and ease. And then there are the times we’re blown off course, or an aid to navigation has failed and we end up on the rocks.
A little over two years ago, the voyage of my son’s education ended up on the rocks. I had to make some hard decisions, and as much as I thought at the time that all would soon be well after a period of adjustment, all was not well.
Since then, we’ve been tacking back and forth, floundering a bit, and trying different sails. We’re still trying to find a better fit.
I took my son out of school because after years of pushing him to go, dealing with anxiety and misery, he’d reached his point of no return. Since then, we’ve been working with a tiny private school that guides students through their own independent and individualized education. My son is basically homeschooled, but with some specific guidelines in order to fulfill our state’s graduation requirements. We’ve created a curriculum that’s a mishmash of prepackaged courses and courses we create with the help of his teacher.
Going this route has taken a ton of pressure off both me and my son, and I thought it would mean the end of one horrific storm of misery.
What it did was shine a spotlight on one area in particular that’s become a blockade. My son’s mental health. By the end of last fall, after trying a variety of things over the previous year and then some, it became glaringly obvious that my son has very real issues with anxiety and panic attacks. In December I gave him two options to help create change, and he chose working with my very talented hypnotherapist, who is also a mental health counselor. (The other choice was medication).
That tack took my son into uncharted waters, and any time he’s thrust into uncharted waters, his nemesis, anxiety, shows up. As difficult as it was, he went to several sessions. And he was even able to have short experiences of hypnosis during a few of them. But after over three months of weekly visits, trying as hard as he could, I realized that my son’s brain needs more help. Panic attacks are no joke.
So, it’s time for another tack. One I’ve been putting off until I tried every other intervention I could. Time to try medication. Because my mother was bipolar and her mother had mental health issues that were never diagnosed, there is a family propensity for mental health challenges. I, myself have had my struggles at different times in my life, and I have a niece and a nephew who benefit from medication, so the familial connection is most assuredly there. In my case, energy healing has made all the difference.
My hope is that with the right medication, my son will have the chemical support for his brain such that he might be able to work with my hypnotherapist again, without succumbing to his nemesis, panic. She has several great tools that could help him change his life.
For now, we sail on our present course, waiting for doctors appointments. Waiting for assistance as we move through somewhat murky waters, still somewhat unsure of where this journey will end up.