Going Away and Breaking Established Patterns

Singularity's school assignment was to write an alternate ending to a story and to illustrate it. I was blown away by this illustration. He is obviously thinking about what it means to be a family.

We get stuck at our house. I include myself and Klailklop; it isn't just Singularity and his perseverations. We all have been stuck, to different degrees, in thinking that I am the only parent who can take care of Singularity. I think that it makes Klailklop feel impotent as a parent and distrusted by me. (Perhaps Klailklop will care to comment on this someday.) It probably makes Singularity think that this state of affairs is all right. Which it isn't. And it makes me feel burdened by the responsibility. 

Well, last weekend our usual state of affairs (see my post "Listening to our children" for more details) got un-stuck. I went away for two nights and two days to a chamber music workshop at the Hidden Valley Institute for the Arts. I was still in touch by phone, but I was away. 

I had to do a lot of work to go away. I created a schedule for the weekend that included two separate sleepover guests and about six play dates at our house (with another adult present), so that Singularity and Klailklop wouldn't be on their own for more than an hour or two at a time. 

I used up a lot of my accumulated social capital, and I am incredibly grateful to my many friends who helped us over the weekend!

So I went away and played chamber music with other like-minded adults. 

And Singularity and Klailklop were fine. 

There were a couple of rough moments, but they got through them. One happened when they were on a bike ride with a friend and his mom. Singularity fell off his bike and got a scrape, which dysregulated him. It took him a while to recover, and he had to make a choice between riding his bike home with the group or locking up the bikes where they were and riding home on the bus alone with Klailklop. I was delighted to hear that Singularity chose the bus ride alone with Klailklop! 

Singularity chose to have Klailklop take care of him. And Klailklop was able take care of Singularity. 

This is a very big deal in our family. 

The main thing that this weekend taught me is that I need to back off sometimes and let Singularity and Klailklop work out their own relationship. I need to let Klailklop be empowered as Singularity's parent too.

The timing of this is interesting to me, as Klailklop and I have recently sought out a family therapist to work with us on our seemingly intractable issues. When the Singularity/Klailklop conflict originally erupted, we tried to work through it in our ABA (applied behavior analysis) program. After over a year of trying that approach, their relationship had normalized somewhat. Singularity is now speaking to Klailklop, the three of us can ride in the car together and even go on a road trip for several days, Klailklop can guide Singularity through some of the less-intimate parts of his daily routine. However, ABA is a type of therapy that works from the outside-in, focusing on behavior, not on internal thoughts and emotions. Singularity's emotional issues surrounding relating to Klailklop just needed a more inside-out approach. 

My taking the step to go away for the weekend is an example of the synchronicity that happens when we get some clarity about what our most important goals are. It is not a coincidence that I finally felt ready to leave for a weekend at the same time that we were beginning the family therapy. 

The weekend went so well that I am already thinking about when I can do it again! It is important for all of us.

What's in a name, redux

Not long after my previous post (my poem about my nicknames), a Non Sequitur cartoon appeared that riffed on the word "aim". Click here to view it. It made me laugh. 

What's in a name?

A dear friend of mine had gotten into the habit of calling me Aim, and after a while (several months? a year?) I began to feel irritated by it. And then I began to feel frustrated with myself for not becoming aware of it sooner and for not mentioning it the instant that I became aware of it. I felt awkward about telling her, as she had been doing it for a long time. So I wrote a poem about it. 

Aim

Ready, aim, fire!

Amy
the name my parents gave me
their first child
"Beloved"

Aimlet
turnabout on an obnoxious teen,
proto-George Bush
nicknaming another kid.
"Brownie, you're doing a heck of a job."

Aimers
my first true love

Aimless
my sister
in the days when I really was

Aim
My aim is true

Aimeleh
my college friend
her grandmother's bubbeleh

Amu
a frequent typo of mine
adopted by DeeDee 

Amelia
Richard the composer
who wrote a piece for solo viola for me
A-Mi

Aimster

my softball mentor
gentle giant
as I played a team sport for the first time
at age 27

Aimily Dickinson
the name I give myself
as fledgling poet

Aim
not a name for me

In the end, after I wrote the poem, I blurted out to my friend that I don't like being called "Aim" and told her that I would send her the poem. And now I'm sharing it with you. 

Cheers!

Forays into Poetry

Around the same time I began writing this blog, I formed a writing group with two friends who are poets. We do writing exercises mostly oriented toward poetry, but I find that these exercises are helping me to expand in other types of writing as well. 

Last week we selected random words from three randomly-selected books: response, lubricant, symbolize, stone, tongues, plains, thinner, diets, desires. We all really liked what we wrote. Here's my offering.

On these high plains
the air is thinner,
the earth itself on a 
diet of stone.
Whose tongues shall proclaim
their lost desires?
The echoes are silent,
and there is no response.

I had just finished binge-reading A Clash of Kings, the sequel to George R.R. Martin's A Game of Thrones, and I was left with such a feeling of desolation that it just came out in this poem. It is interesting how a set of words lend themselves to your unconscious purposes.

For another take on the same set of words, you can click on over to Pink House Poetry.