Okay, so clearly this craving for chocolate is my bodies way of healing itself after surgery. And now as I eat animal crackers and chocolate toffee bits I see how wise it is that I am not ignoring science and evolution hard at work.
I'm fine! How are you?
Here's the gig. That's a perfectly appropriate response to the Starbucks barista or the bagger at the grocery store or your neighbor that you mostly just have a waving relationship with.
But there is a growing breed of I'm Finers- Frequently I'm fineing to friends and family too. All the time. You don't want to sound negative or ungrateful. You don't want to be an annoying, energy-sucking complainer. A pathetic downer. And so the Fine stuffs down the real feelings deep deep inside. It's numbing. It's like boozing or overeating or pills. And each time you fine when you aren't, you chip just a little piece of precious you away. You are telling the inside you, I don't care how you really feel. You're not important. Feelings are sweet precious little children, and when ignored- they act out in other and sometimes vicious ways.
If you are not careful, one day you fine so long, you start to not even know how you really feel in the first place. You start to lose what makes you real.
I'm so happy! I'm so blessed! I'm fine! How are you? You say-- while inside you are just a little bit crying. And you want to come off happy and hopeful and positive, but sometimes it's just an act. It's not the real you - and the real and unhappy you is so much better than the pretend and happy one.
I think we're all entitled to a little complaint and vent and expressions of verbal confusion sometimes. We don't have to love everything all the time. Everything doesn't need to be a blessing. Sometimes our silver lining isn't there. Everything isn't awesome. It just can't be.
In the blog I don't lie, I can't write fiction. But sometimes in my real life I do. I'm great! How are you? Awesome! That's awesome! And for all I know, me and the other person are two big fat liars missing out on a beautiful and human chance to connect and truly exchange.
Instead of being big fat liars together, let's just tell our truths. Let's belong to the same thing.
Instead of Physical Therapy today, I was jumped on by eleventy hundred little 3 year olds. I wore an xxs preschool doctor uniform jacket that I then had to peel off painfully slow. I picked up Parker 123,456 times. I emptied the dish washer. I lugged my huge camera everywhere and lifted all 4 million pounds to my face every time I wanted to take a picture. Who needs to go to an Therapy office when you can work your muscles in the privacy of your own home?
It came to me today while watching Parker during Speech...
Cool magnetic push pull puzzle designed to help kids how to point.
Other kids! Structured activities! We desperately need this. NOW. So I texted the awesome owner of Grey's preschool and asked if we could come by after speech.
And there was so much wonder and curiousity in Parker's eyes I could just swell over. My boy just has this essence about him. A calm and happy joy that feels like medicine to me sometimes.
And to see my boy so accepted into a group. To see him with all the kids together and happy just made me so over the top happy. And there was one little boy in the class...and that's all it takes --and I think God always provides at least one in every class- the one little boy who sees what I see in my boys.
This little guy LOVED Parker. He said his name a hundred times today. He didn't mind unanswered questions or little eye contact. He didn't care at all. He talked to Parker as if it were a back and forth conversation- and I just wasn't privied to Parker's end.
Parker, Do you want to play cars with me? Parker wants to play cars with me! Parker, look at me! Parker you are such a cute little baby! (Big bear hug).
I think Parker wants to play with the peg boards with me now. Parker! Let's go sit at the table.
But sometimes I am not fine...It's hard to let go- again. To watch Parker get the far away look in his eyes and not be able to get his attention. It's hard to see other children interacting so naturally. He looks at others with a slight curiousity that is absent with Greyson, but Parker is still most content in his own company in his own little head.
Sometimes I have to gently remind myself. This is him. Love him for him, and let go of who you expected him to be. Not everyone is the smartest, fastest, most popular best at everything. I certainly am not. And it took me many years, but I no longer need or want to be any of those things anyway.