The Music in my Head, the Dance in My Limbs

The 9-5, the days that repeat, are a line dance. Each step is predictable, a veritable march towards the next careful half turn. Comfort in knowing exactly what comes next. Half asleep and apathetic is fine as long as you know when to turn to the left

Small ballets slip in. They are moments, fluid and beautiful, that take you by surprise. Sometimes the tears come, and the breath catches. We are held, and sometimes it's painful, the sadness, the beauty, crystalized into razor sharp shards.

R&B/Rap throbs, is heat and rhythm. Physical, primal, hands and sweat. Sex with a sting. Pride, and anger, and showing the world that your the hardest, the basest, the meanest.

Seduction slides along a Latin beat. The steps are known- the rules there, but unspoken. Gazes lock and the world falls away. A slow burn, a buzz born in the hips, building, smoking, slithering. Passion carefully leashed, exploding on cue.

An industrial beat clutches my heart, skewing the rhythm; coursing adrenaline and anxiety build. Talons shred my grey matter with each off kilter beat, too fast, breaking all the rules. It's a cat 'o nine, licking your back, each painful lash driving you forward in a frenzy of total madness. It's tearing my hair out, letting go, ideas beating against my skull, choking me with the need for their release

Depression is a modern dance. It's jangled, tangled and painful. The music is pieces that have been injected into a blender, and spewed out in a confused slurry of sound. There's falling, stuttering, disjointed movement. The body bends at impossible angles, trying to keep pace with sounds that make no sense.

There are moments so pure their are Broadway- clean, loud and obvious. Country moments reach out to God for comfort and strength. Jazz moments skip along and slide smoothly when called for.

A dance step. A syncopated beat. A flutter of life.

Back on the Horse

Life takes us in seriously strange directions sometimes. Looking at my last blog post (Ridiculously long ago) it struck my as funny at how many things had changed since then, how I had changed.

One of the biggest things that occurred in this time, was a giant upheaval in my battle with depression. While its hard for me to admit out loud, I've always struggled with depression, and now, more than ever, I realize just how important it is to talk about that openly and honestly.

This past spring, things came crashing down around me in a big way. My health was in trouble, and I had to leave my job. Debilitating depression swallowed me whole. I was mentally comatose, frozen in my helplessness, sinking into darkness.

With the help of my family, in large part my mother, and the aid of new medication, I was finally able to claw my way back to a semblance of life. I sucked it up and made a go of doing my jewelry full time- and it worked! Through my daughter, I rediscovered my passionate love of horses. I lived in the sun, and had one of the best summers of my life.

And now, during the slow season for jewelry, I've taken and office job through a temp agency and am catching up on winter bills. While being back in an office is a struggle for me, I can now look ahead to the sun, and not let it bring me to such a dark place. There is hope, there is faith, and for once, there is the promise of light.

G Has Autism

Monday was the day of G's full evaluation, the one we've waited for over a year to receive. We spent the day answering questions, listening to G answer questions, watching G be examined physically, watching as G played and interacted with the doctors. I went through it all, my stomach in knot, wondering what each doctor was writing down, if G was doing things "right".

At the end of the day, we spoke with the doctor while G played computer games in the next room. The first thing that she told us, was that G was astoundingly smart. In fact, he has and IQ of 122 (confirming once and for all that my children are indeed smarter than me). With that said, she went on to explain that G did in fact have a mild case of Aspergers.

Even though we have known that for so long, finally hearing it out loud still hit me, making my brain freeze and stealing the air from my chest for a brief moment.

We were told to start G on Melatonin for his sleep problems, and to look into getting him OT through school, and exploring socialization groups. She advised us to stay calm in the midst of his fits, to help him with joint compressions, and to stop struggling so much over food. She told us to look into the Maine Autism Network, and wished us luck, assuring us that G was a wonderful and extremely bright boy.

And G is still G no matter what. His amazing teacher called me yesterday to let me know she was having G join a new math club at school, and he continued to be a "dear" in his classroom. Last night we struggled through yet another meltdown. Tonight, we will begin the Melatonin. Now that we k now for sure what's going on, we can work to help G the best we can. And maybe find a little help for ourselves along the way.