Thursday, March 18, 2010

What I Don't Know Could Fill A Book

I don't know. Basically, that should be the title of my blog.
I don't know.
You'd think by the age of fifty-five and over-a-half that I'd know something but if I do know something, it's called by the name of Jack Shit.

Not a great morning in the spirit department here and of course I'm second guessing my tapering off of the Lexapro. I am not feeling overwhelming anxiety and I keep reminding myself that I've had plenty of bad mornings while on the full dose of the drug and so I need to just keep on with what I'm doing but I need to pay attention, too. I keep thinking about the newest articles about antidepressants and how placebos seem to work just as well and how they're being given out like candy by GP's. I think about how yes, depression and anxiety are not an inappropriate response to today's world and how brain chemistry is really so poorly understood and how perhaps placebos do cause changes in the brain which can actually help.

But again- I don't know.

Owen just wants to GO these days. I find myself carrying him under one arm with him facing downwards. He twists himself into this position himself and he seems to want to get down on the floor and just GO. I put him on the floor and he lays there pissed off because he can't crawl yet and it enrages him. When you sit with him on your lap, same thing.

He wants everything. He wants to see everything, do everything, taste everything, and for all I know he wants to BE everything from a dog to a chicken to his grandfather.

He wants to talk, he loves it when you echo his verbalizations back to him, squeals and chuckles and syllables. That cracks him up. I am watching him become all the things that humans are which are explorers, and question-askers and communicators.
And of course, there is never a moment when there isn't someone right there to help him on these paths. He loves the stroller but only if it's moving. He loves to sit on the floor and play, but only if you're there beside him. He has figured out how to get what he wants and we, the Big Ones, are his adoring servants and assistants. We talk, we push, we sit, we protect, we feed, we change, we acknowledge each and every desire of his. That is Owen's life.

I think of him and I see the whole history of humanity in his eyes, his movements, his wants and needs and his desires. And I wonder when all of that- that holy fire to do- was extinguished in me. But maybe that's just me today. I don't know.

When did I start to feel that it is only at home that I would feel safe? When did I stop going to movies and when did I make my world so tiny?

I am thinking of this today not only because of Owen but because my daughter May is going to get on a plane this afternoon and fly out to Seattle to visit one of her oldest friends. She is too much like me, this girl, and I look at her with wonder that she is going to do this. She used to travel. At the age of nineteen she packed up her truck and got in it and went west and she stopped where she wanted and she drove where she wanted and I had to let her go despite every worry, every fear I had for her. And hell, at the age of nineteen, I packed up my Ford Capri and traveled by myself from Denver to Tallahassee. But I can barely force myself now to drive to Tallahassee from Lloyd. And May doesn't like to drive anywhere, either. She has become, like I said, too much like me, comfortable in her own small place with her own proscribed life.
And so I look at her about to take this trip and I am thrilled for her that she is doing it. I am cheering her on, I am saying, "Go."

Well.

So no, I hardly travel now, although right now I am craving, craving to go to Roseland, that place where I grew up by the river. I don't know why. This isn't the time of year I have ever gone there since I grew up. But still. I do. But I won't go. It costs too much to stay where I want to stay. The drive takes forever. (Florida is a very long state.) And besides- I'd have to leave here.

And usually it is at this point where I proclaim that here is a fine place to be. And it is. But sometimes I feel so much like my chickens who have wings but who forget that they have them. Who only fly when they forget to walk or when there is danger.

So I am so very happy that May is going to fly today. I hope she has a wonderful trip. I hope that being away gives her new perspective on everything. That she can see that she is stronger and braver than she realizes and that her world is not limited. That she has FUN!

And here are some pictures I took of my world yesterday. When the rain stopped for a bit, Owen and I went outside, he in his stroller and me with my camera and we explored this world (which is not a bad world at all, I should point out) and this is what it looked like:

This is not a tree which Owen is sitting beside. It is a wisteria vine. I can't even imagine how old it is.


An old fallen tree at the edge of the property.

Just...green.


More wisteria vine, this one made up of two which have twined together to form a rope. For some reason completely unknown to me I never noticed this until yesterday. How can this be?

I don't know.

I don't know much today. But I what I do know is that humans CAN fly. And they want to. Until they don't. And I know that as Owen learns to use his wings, we stand over him with one hand on him, ready to catch him if he falls. And that although I can not do that with my grown children, I will still try to encourage them to use their wings whenever they can.

Have a wonderful trip, May. But please come home when it's over. And tell us what it's like on the other side of the country. Tell us with your Florida Girl eyes. Tell us with your too-much-like-me mind. Tell us about where your wings took us. Remind us we have wings of our own. And then stand under the blooming wisteria again and let me take your picture with your sisters like I did two years ago before we even knew Owen, back when he was merely a gleam in the eye of god or his father or his mother. However that works. Because I don't know. But I know I love you. I know there is beauty right here. And that my children make it that much more beautiful, as does my grandson. And I know that you will all fly away at some point because that is what humans do and although you cannot see our wings, they are there.
And I don't want any of you to ever forget that.
And I don't want to forget it either.

23 comments:

  1. Aw geeze, Ms. Moon, you made me cry happy tears. This is your best, most perfect post. All I know is I don't know anymore either. Or maybe don't remember.

    Oh May, travel safe! Write when you get time!! Have fun, but come home.

    Mary, I've been exactly where you are mentally and emotionally coming off the little pills. I'm sticking now with the Devil I know, which is just me, wondering if I need to be sedated somedays.

    And Owen! The struggle to move and walk. We watched old videow of my baby when she was one, trying to sit in a little chair, so focused, determined and loving. How quickly that all flies.
    And your pictures!! The last one most of all is perfect.

    Thank you, you were exactly what I needed right now. Have a grand day.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Hum. I took the homeopathic form of Hypericum/St John's Wort, and not for long, because I so quickly felt like I didn't need it anymore, and I haven't felt that bad since. Worth a try... because if it doesn't work, at the end of the day, you're just drinking water...

    ReplyDelete
  3. Mel- Now see? I don't know shit because I was almost weeping with the fact that I considered this to be such a lame and pointless post. But I'm very glad you liked it.

    Jo- Have done the SJW, although never in homeopathic form. It did help for awhile with depression but it didn't do shit for my anxiety.

    ReplyDelete
  4. This is far from a lame post; you amaze me.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Every day is its own. The weather changes, it's OK for you to change each day too. Its OK to go and its OK to stay home. Whatever you do wherever you are, is good. If you want a wider world, you'll start the journey, one step after the other.

    You're a special, unique being, amazing.

    I know you have the capacity to manage your meds and your chemistry and your life, today and tomorrow and the next day, one day at a time. I believe in you.

    ReplyDelete
  6. I, on the other hand, couldn't even make it from my apartment to the one behind me without stubbing my big toe hard enough that I am sure I'll lose the nail. Sometimes staying home is the best option.

    ReplyDelete
  7. Ms. Moon, I am crying here and I can't seem to stop. You have so much love for your family, I am in awe of it. Your daughters are gorgeous. And happy and so loved.
    Safe travels, May.

    ReplyDelete
  8. Safe travels to May.

    That wisteria makes me swoon.

    ReplyDelete
  9. This brought an Aaron Neville song to mind that pretty much sums up any happy life:

    "I don't know much, but I know I love you. And that may be, all I need to know."

    ReplyDelete
  10. Look at those smiles! They are from YOU, you wonderful woman.

    I hope your blues pass and you fly soon.

    Love to you on this day.

    ReplyDelete
  11. I like what you said about wings. Those wings are there for sure. That I do know.

    ReplyDelete
  12. Does the old wisteria vines still bloom? If so, I want the blooming beauty!

    ReplyDelete
  13. Think of the love you've given those girls and the love Owen gets from his Mama. It's like that wisteria rope, bound tight, strong and breathtaking.

    ReplyDelete
  14. Somehow you and I are having EXACTLY the same day today.

    ReplyDelete
  15. Meant to say, is Owen thinking, wow, my grandad looks like Eric Clapton in this photograph?

    I don't know about herbal SJW, don't think it works the same way, if you know what I mean.

    And no, it's not for anxiety. That would be a whole other load of remedies and you'd want a professional to find the right one.

    ReplyDelete
  16. Wow!! Look at that beautiful women and the lovely wisteria.

    You know Harley's grandmother only has the pictures that we give her of him... I don't get it, do you?

    About the tapering off anti-ds, are you doing it with your doctor's help or solo...? I think that doing it under the care of your doc will answer a lot of your questions about whether or not certain feelings/phases are normal at different times as your biology adjusts to the change. But if they are working, why do you want to go off? (I'm just curious because you mention it every so often and oddly, we never talk about it!)

    Good luck, I know it's tricky business... Love you,
    pf

    ReplyDelete
  17. Ahhh I can't wait to hear about May's adventures!! If you're reading this, have a wonderful time, pretty sister mine.

    ReplyDelete
  18. Oh Ms. Moon, you are a lovely photographer : )

    ReplyDelete
  19. Kori- Really?

    Kathleen Scott- And I believe in you!

    DTG- Oh, baby! I'm so sorry. I love you.

    Angie M- If there is one thing I do know- it is that I love my beautiful family.

    Nancy C- And how have I missed that?

    Aunt Becky- I hope your day turned as beautifully as mine did.

    Ms. Fleur- I'll give you more details than you want to know when we talk.

    SJ- She has our wishes. Believe me.

    Lisa- No. I am a picture-taker.

    Jo- All noted. Thank-you, dear.


    Laynie- Aaron Neville sits at the right hand of god. I'm serious.

    Elizabeth- I know. Sort of. And it was a happy day.


    Stephanie- And soon, it will be blooming again and we shall all swoon.

    Syd- Damn, boy! I have seen your face and words at Ms. Bastard's place so many times. I am so glad you have happened by here. Please come back. I think we love you.

    Rebecca- So high up in the oak tree you can barely see it. I will do my best to capture it when it blooms.

    ReplyDelete
  20. Going on a journey is very satisfying. Hope May has a great trip.

    ReplyDelete
  21. Those photos! The love! Oh, it does me in.

    ReplyDelete
  22. Your girls are lovely, and I adore them. Each and every one.

    ReplyDelete
  23. It's a strange thing, trying to wean off of Lexapro. I hope the rest of your week was better.

    ReplyDelete

Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.