In My Spirit

These past few years, I have been finally able to grow comfortable inside my body. Lately, I have felt the calling to become comfortable in my spirit.

Years ago, I was lucky enough to hear a sermon titled "Faith Is Not Belief". I will not summarize it here; there is no way I could do it justice. (If you are interested in reading its entirety, it can be found in the book Invitations to the Dance by Michael Brown). This sermon was a significant catalyst on my path. It helped me recognize that I did not need to spend so much energy searching for ways to define my beliefs. I saw that faith does not necessarily need a belief system. I spent the next few years relieved, but embarassed. I took that same energy and wasted it being defensive about my newly found "faith instead of belief". I still felt sheepish admitting to friends and that I had no church home, feeling like an errant child playing hooky. I think it is time to let that go.

The truth is that I do not know the exact nature of the Divine; I cannot map out the edges of my soul. There are mysteries of Life I fully expect to gaze at questioningly for the rest of my life.

And.I.just.don't.know.what.I.believe.

That un-knowing is NOT a tragedy to be overcome.
My un-knowledge is NOT a problem to be fixed.
These mysteries are NOT gaping holes to be filled.

I love and respect my friends and family with strong religious beliefs. I do not want to convince anyone of anything. I am just ready to accept that, although my spiritual journey might look like (and even be...who knows?) aimless wandering, this is exactly where I want to be. I am much too stubborn to be on any other path.
My un-knowledge suits me, and I suspect there is peace deep inside it.

My Week

I am a little hesitant to write about last week.
It was a painful inoculation into the world of living with mental illness.

I learned a few things that, unfortunately, many people already know too well.

• psychiatry is much more an art than a science.
• there are no quick fixes.  This is a long journey, and we need to prepare ourselves for that.
• OCD can wax and wane, even on the correct kind and amount of medicine.

It was a trying week, definitely.  We made it through.  We have a short term plan (upping my son's medication), and a long term plan (signing up for an anxiety reduction class through the local Easter Seals).

Though during the worst moments, oddly, I was most worried about leaning too much on the people around me.


I am the type of person who, whenever I get something I really want, will immediately start imagining my Life without it.  This is the first time I have had a support network of such caring, authentic friends.  Sometimes that scares me. I very much do NOT want to lose them.  And, of course, they are loyal and wonderful; listening to me while I cry...or worry...or rage...or apologize...

I want to be a good friend.  I want to enjoy the luxury of letting someone comfort me, while not crossing into the gray area of "the friend always in crisis." I also want to support my friends without crossing boundaries or being "hover-y".  This does not come naturally for me.My love for my friends is genuine, but I sometimes feel like I am faking knowing when to give my opinion and when to just listen; when to tell it like it is and when to just validate feelings; when to challenge and when to just be there.

Mainly, I very much realize how lucky I am in my Life, and I never want to take the people I love for granted.

I Surrender, part II

It is time.

I surrender to the word autistic.

I am too tired to fight anymore.  I give.

I have been running from this word as fast as possible for two years.  I realize now that I cannot outrun this word with a piece of paper from Easter Seals.  There will always be people in my son's life who label him as autistic. 

What is scarier than the word autistic, is the knowledge that no one actually knows for sure.  We just can't at this stage and age.  
He is speech-delayed; he has a fine motor delay; he has anxiety; and, I just found out yesterday, he has a gross motor delay.  Those are the facts.

The cause?  The depth? The breadth?  The future?  Those are the guesses...


I am not ready to say my child is autistic.  That may be denial.  If so, I am in good company (his pediatrician and Easter Seals among them).

...But I am tired of fighting the ghost of someone else's guess.  As of today, I will let the word autistic live in my universe.  I will not run away from it.  I will not fight it.  I will just let it sit beside me.