Fly

My son turned thirty. Since his diagnosis, birthdays have been turbulent. As a young boy he got a heavy dose of goal setting in school and set goals for himself for every year of his life. In some ways, the goals were impossible to achieve in the best of circumstances. For example, one of goals was to run an ultra marathon by the time he was eighteen. Most organized ultra marathons don’t even let kids participate. When the voices started hijacking his life, each birthday became a symbol of another year of failure. We have had more than one birthday with him in a full on psychotic break and missing. There was the catatonic birthday and the birthday that included a grid search for his body. So I was nervous about thirty.

But turning thirty was uneventful. He sent me a picture of a house on Zillow. The house was in Detroit. The text read, “Unless you are buying me this house, for my bday, I’d be happy with seeing Mission Impossible.” We went to the movie and then joined the day drinkers at Old Chicago for an early dinner. The server brought a cookie and a scoop of ice cream and the bar joined in singing the birthday song. When we got home, he went to bed, exhausted from the effort of being a person with a birthday. I sat on the front porch. I didn’t think about HOW I have a child who is THIRTY, instead I thought about my own thirtieth birthday.

Thirty is too young for a mid-life crisis. But I sort of had one at thirty. I woke up one morning and decided that instead of bitching about my life, I should change it. I wrote a resignation letter, sold my stuff and left Alamosa. I was a single mother of a kid about to start kindergarten, but I didn’t doubt that I’d be okay. I also had my parents, so it wasn’t like I was taking a giant leap without a safety net.

I have thought about that decision more than once. The ability just to trust in a giant leap of faith. I am more educated, have more money in the bank, and my kids are grown more or less. I could do the same thing now, except that I can’t. My ability to trust in the universe has been damaged and my safety net has been repaired with off brand tape. In fact, some days I feel like I have fallen into the net and am struggling to be free from the ropes and tape and all the debris that has collected over the years.

A few weeks ago I went to Albuquerque. I did the round trip adventure in one day. I am not a long haul driver and I get sleepy driving. On the way home, my mom was in the cab of the truck with me. I didn’t have a vision or anything, I just felt her there. She was there to keep me company, to keep me safe. I could feel it. Then on the way back from Detroit, I pulled over on two separate occasions because my eyes were closing and I just couldn’t stay focused. I fell into deep, deep sleeps and my dad came to me in both. In one he was helping me cross the sand dunes as I carried a baby in my arms. In the next, he was coming to pick up a friend; he stopped by for a visit. He told me that everything was fine and he was there, I’d be okay. It’s time to fly.

I have been thinking about the flying thing. I know what it means. My dad was a paratrooper. He made combat jumps in the Korean War and Viet Nam. Once on a road trip, he told me about the training and tests he took to become a jumper. He said sometimes in the battles, he saw lights, like angels, showing him the path.

So while I was at the movies celebrating with my son, all my Pueblo friends were back at school getting ready for the new kids. I think I feel guilty for leaving Park View. I loved those kids and know I made a difference. And not everybody chooses to work in that neighborhood. I want the best for them, yet I know in my heart that I needed something a little easier, a little lighter, for my own mental health.

Teaching is not easy or light anywhere. I have agonized and agonized over my decision to go back into the classroom at all. I am doing another year. Just language arts. It feels feel full circle. My first year as a teacher; I taught sixth grade language arts. I know I can use my art skills and get kids to connect to words and stories and build their confidence with writing,. I’ll be in a building with strong women who have been my rocks on this journey. I can ride my bike to work and the view from this school is the best in town. I will be closer to home, so maybe I can help Shayne stay on his meds and keep the voices from domination. For myself, I am going back to college to get some graphic arts skills. It’s time to focus on the things I want in my life and go get them. My dad is right. It’s time to fly.