Translation: We're leaving Skokie in just a few days for a new life in Maryland. We were worried about how N, in particular, would handle the transition, remembering how hard it was coming from Texas to Illinois. By now, we expected the fallout to have begun, in anticipation of leaving his best friend, his school, this house, the neighborhood. Instead, this morning at breakfast at Annie's, a wonderful pancake house we will actually miss, one of the few Skokie restaurants memorable enough to miss, N. looked up from his DS for a few seconds and said:
"When one door closes, another door opens. Did you know that, Mom? It means even though we're leaving here and that's sad, a new, happy life is waiting for us in Maryland."
"Huh?" M and I looked at each other. Wow.
Thank God for that little green pill. Thank God for Merck and the people who developed Zoloft and researchers who discovered that human brains need ample serotonin to behave normally and achieve happiness and pleasure. That's what it is, and there's no doubt. Actually, since being out of school the past few days, there's been a striking lack of anxiety and craziness, crazy talk, cursing, negativity, hostility, snarling. There've been a few fairly mild isntances, and two weekends ago it was kind of nasty, but everything is still SO much better. Maybe the fish oil is helping too, at just over a gram a day of the high EPA to DHA ratio, the amount that's been shown to be helpful in the clinical studies.
Besides the obvious joy at seeing our son happy and more normal, it feels darn good, no, it feels damn great, to see that all the seeds we planted over the years--meaning Matt and me, his teachers, our family, his counselors and doctors, priests, therapist, everyone--actually weathered the storm. It actually DID mean something, he actually WAS learning, there actually IS hope, once the brain chemistry is straightened out. As I really knew all along, it wasn't our fault. Hell, it wasn't even his fault. Only God knows how much work and teaching and effort we have put into that child over the years, and to see with absolute clarity, over and over again, that it wasn't all for nothing, is a deeply gratifying thing, and that's an understatement.
One door closes and another opens, when God closes a door, he opens a window. Amen.
3 comments:
Amen. Amen to the people who understand that our brains, even those of our children, sometimes require help that comes in various colors and sizes of pills.
Your son IS very wise about the closed and open doors. I need to remember that myself.
Diane
www.fosterfamilytalk.com
Thanks for writing this. I need to know that there is hope and I need to be reminded sometimes of the blessing of medications!
Are you getting settled in your new home? ~Kari
Thanks, foster family talk and Kari. Actually, things are going very, very well with N and our family, particularly if you consider the fact that we are still at in-laws and just now finding a place of our own to live. Pre-Zoloft, things would have been MUCH worse. The only rough spots have been some "I don't want to go!" in the mornings before his summer Y camp, but even then, no violence and raging. The difference in his ability to handle the little and big frustrations, including transitions, is huge. I hadn't realized what a big factor his MOOD was, in all his problems. Things are not perfect, but they don't suck anymore, either, at least not right now!
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