Even at the end of February I can find joy

Even at the end of February I can find joy

foggy february fantastic-ness

the morning was chalk full of fog (chalk dust full of fog?) – the kiddo enjoyed the diffuse outdoors from our bed, I enjoyed the eeriness of the scene. We bemoan the weather often (have you heard about the rains down in durhamtown? well, they certainly are ‘bless your heart’ blessed, eh?) – but I hope my joy in the variety of water our atmosphere deigns to drop on us – I mean, the sleet the other week was weak but you have to take what you get, right?

The dewy web was kind really cool – probably could have spent the morning shooting it, waiting for a glint of sunlight to make the drops sparkle like gemstones. Alas the time was not mine to spend on waiting for additional amazement, so I shot a pic or 7 and am pleased at the what I captured. Go me!

Go me – I was attempting to recall a ‘me march’ (or something silly like that) that I declared years ago. Me and my declarations, eh?

fiercely fabulous flowers amidst fog

So here’s the thing. here’s the thing… the thing.

I am struggling. I could use some help. I have no idea how, or who, to ask. what to ask for (besides ‘a million dollars’) or what to take or what it is that I need (besides ‘help’) – some of this is a clinical cycle, I suspect. is this where I find comfort in being wise enough to know that I don’t know everything? Ah, yes.

As we approach the 24 month mark in Rumbly’s adventure (apparently Boo and I have been on this trip for a few months more but I honestly have no math skills anymore) I am finding the days to have an overwhelming amount of ‘oh this is the best-est cutest most amazingly awesome thing ever (see Rumbly’s joy filled laughter, his eyes, HIS joy)’ counter weighted (balanced? er, no. no.) with depths of despair I didn’t realize were there (oh the depths I’ve visited; I believe my heart and soul have the scars to prove I’ve been down into the cragginess of the abyss in the past… just … well, didn’t see this dark corner before – guess it was behind me and I never took it all in) – in a whipping back and forth fashion I can only describe as alarming and exhausting.

there’s this thing. I’ve spent the last 3 months (holy shit – only three months? wtf – seems like past 3 years … gah) digging into my head, seeing the stored remembrances/ruminations/origin stories thru a lens I hadn’t used before (or seen?) – say, ya know, you have a kid with autism. & you think of the interactions – social, inter-personal, ‘typical’ situations that are handled in a ‘unique’ way. You think. You wonder. You worry. You start to doubt the core foundation of ‘who are you’ – I’m Scott, of course. Let me tell you the stories of my life.

Yet … doubt. Hell, don’t even know what I’m doubting – the stories happened. the facts are still the facts (thanks MickeyMatt – appreciated the delivery of the Concord sans window that one wintry night) – but suddenly the illumination is off the center, the bright spot you’ve held onto for all these days. Now the light expands and I am seeing … how fucking odd my past has been; how fucked up my past has been. If it were in some way a triumph over adversity (oh, those years I spent dressing so oddly was in fact the time I needed to stop “chasing the dragon”, yes – some go to rehab, some don’t make it, I wore questionable shorts in public in my late 20s – it’s the way thru, which is the only way thru, man)

//will this ever see the light of day? it must. it really does//

Will this see the light of day. because if I hit publish, if Blood sees it, if Boo – hell, anyone really, I will add to their worry and that’s not part of ‘who I am’ – but the days and moments are tough currently. I sit at the cubicle and think ‘well, that was an interesting week; should’ve be there – but no one thought of me; wtf’ (and immediately jump into my head to point out I didn’t shout loudly enough, or at all. then I look at the list of shit I’m ‘doing’ and see – well, school, quest, life, all the shit – yeah, I certainly would have been something had the team called me up from the bleacher. sigh. don’t think the team captain even knew I was there (how the hell could he?) – just … fuckery) {the proceeding is vague on purpose, sorry. a story for a later iteration of ‘Words Scott Puts Down – Watch Your Step’ show we all know and love.

When things are decent I feel like I’m at the cusp of putting all the shit together – experience, learning, skills, people I know. It doesn’t happen.

My only experience in radical change has been the time-tested burn it all down and move to the other side of the country method of my 20s. and 30s. sigh. not an option this time around.

mi amigo Matt

I am lucky to be able to look into the past fairly spectacularly – here’s  snap from 10 years ago.

We’ve changed, haven’t we my friend?

{Neuro Tribes, William Hughes reading Steve Silberman – ask me how this feels | 2:51p+01Mar2019=Friday afternoon}

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