Slaying Demons

2014-10-31 16.31.53 Something happened at the library. There were a group of rambunctious kids, loud but harmless kids, probably a year or two older then Charlie, playing and running around. The kind of kids engaged in the kind of play that, in the wrong mood, one might look at their parent and think, ‘come on, you’re making this harder for all of us.’ But we were having fun and I really wasn’t feeling that bothered. We started doing a puzzle, as is Charlies wont at almost all hours of the day these days, and he kept looking over at them. He was clearly intrigued, but they were quite active and loud and it was considerably difficult to understand what exactly it was that they were playing. I said, ‘do you wanna go over there and play with them, buddy?’ at first it was no and back to the puzzle. But soon he’d decided yes. And he marched over and announced/asked ‘Hey, can I play with you guys?’. So innocent and vulnerable with eyes wide and fully expecting the only answer he could conceive of.Ā  The kids didn’t know how to respond, or they didn’t hear, and he just started to play despite no. I assumed the play would take care of anything left unsaid. But almost immediately, he stepped awkwardly back from the group, subtly, and watched for a second, brow furrowed, looking for another entry point, wanting to be a part of the fun, but not being welcome, or at least not thinking himself so. I felt a small and subtle, metaphorical punch in the part of my gut where I hide my unresolved issues. I have felt that exact way my whole life.
So he walked back to me and with quivering lip said, ‘he took the toy from me.’ He wouldn’t cry, which made it even harder to watch. I suppose I could have gone over and helped ease a transition, but I’m not great at leading by example in these things. I told him I was sorry they didn’t want to play with him and he went back to the puzzle. A minute or two passed and I asked him if he’d like to try again, or maybe run around the room a bit and he would just keep his head down and say ‘no.’ It was that kind of embarrassed, teenage, barely audible, clenched teeth kind of ‘no’. I didn’t want him to feel like he felt, but the situation insisted he feel that way. He has no idea how much I get where he’s coming from. In battles against my own self-imposed limit setting my own self-imposed limit setting had a sterling record until recently. I’m learning he (I’ve chosen to anthropomorphize this trait of mine and he’s definitely a he) was an ‘afterschool special’ kind of bully and all I needed to do was stand up to him and he’d run away.
These are the things that break my heart because they feel like he’s breaking a little. I feel broken in this way, so perhaps I’m a bit more attuned to this particular style of breakage. It’s a feeling he can’t do anything with. It was a feeling I could never overcome. I couldn’t cry it away, complain it away, try really hard it away, brood and aloof it away and eventually I just held it for so long I started to think I was unwanted and uninvited. I hated being around me. I carried it with me everywhere for a long time. Carrying such a thought around for so long does funny things. It makes you see things that confirm your fears everywhere you look. No amount of signs from the world telling me I was worthy were enough to break through this negative self assessment. Later on, as an adult, no amount of sadness, drinking or risky behavior ever killed me, but I wanted it to. A lot.
I realize that none of this is likely for Charlie. But that’s the thing with your kids. He is me. I know he can react to this with a deep misunderstanding that he can hide from everyone. It’s not likely, but I know more than any other outcome that its possible. It Killed me a little to see that lip quiver, to see him trying to hide his feelings.
But this is life. I’m familiar with my teeny tiny corner of it, a corner that was considerably brightened and made bigger when Karen and I pushed our corners together and planted our flag in our new shared corner. We’ve since made people to populate that teeny tiny corner and it shouldn’t surprise me that their perspective from that corner is similar to mine. How could it not be. I KNOW that this is projecting feelings that are mine onto Charlie.That’s okay. Familial relationships are by definition overlapping and intertwined. I don’t own him, I’m merely raising him. I’m trying in the long run to provide him with as much as I can to make sure he becomes capable of staking out his own teeny tiny corner of life someday on his own. To be properly prepared to do so he inevitably has to feel and process pain and rejection and disappointment. Just as he has to feel and process copious amounts of love and joy and optimism.
So this step of his toward a road I’ve traveled, on which I took some terrible wrong turns, is an opportunity for me to walk it again. This time I have the honored position of being his guide. We hold hands on this path as I shepherd him through the dark, aware of particular risks and potential bad choices. I hope to be able to protect him from the mistakes I made. But if you look closer you’ll see that he is also guiding me to the demons that have so challenged me my whole life. Holding my hand, he is not only my charge, he is also my partner and he has given me the courage to slay them for the both of us.

2014-10-21 19.43.05

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9 thoughts on “Slaying Demons

  1. Life With Teens and Other Wild Things

    Aw Papa… (hugs)
    I think that many of us introverts have felt that particular sting. The world can be hard for sensitive folks to navigate.

    You’re providing him a safe place to land, and understanding. That’s your job. It seems to me that you’re doing it well. Your Charlie may turn out like my son- sensitive, emotional, full of bravado at times, but often too-easily hurt… with a very close inner circle of friends. He may not be the sporty type, always loud in the center of a bunch of jocks, but that’s ok, because he’s sensitive and intelligent and he’s going to be one of those kids who changes the world.

    Good luck, Dad. Parenting’s tough for all of us. All you can do is your best.

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  2. jsackmom

    This is beautifully written and heartfelt. I remember the day when my son encountered this situation at a play date at a friends house. He was the token boy in the crowd since birth. The Moms were chatting and the kids playing and then my son was crying. He told me he wasn’t allowed to play because no boys were allowed. The Mom’s response to her daughter’s rudeness was “her room, her rules.” My response was “my son, his feelings.” and I promptly left. We both saw the world a little different that day. Big hugs to you and Charlie, I get it. šŸ’“

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    1. joejmedler Post author

      Thank you so much for your very kind words. It’s nothing you can’t recover from, it’s just that you’ve built up all this scar tissue, so much you don’t even think you can be effected by the stuff, then you have a kid and it brings you right back! Your empathy is very kind. And I’m sorry your little guy had that experience. I have to say, and this would have been true prior to it being a convenient argument for me, the truth is it’s my room, and my rules are that you are at least respectful of others and if you really want to get my kudos inclusiveness and creativity will get you there!

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      1. jsackmom

        You’re very welcome Joe. I saw my son’s little heart crushed at the age of 3 and I’ll never forget it. And yes like you, I have plenty of scar tissue being a victim of bullying. And when i recently had to watch him getting bullied in his new school I went after them and the bully. Mama bear is very protective of my cubs!

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  6. jsackmom

    The first time I read this I thought of my oldest son. Today I think of my youngest as he’s encountered these feelings and these kids. I know with his developmental delays he doesn’t have the comprehensiom to stop asking to play. And I’m now noticing he’s so used to being told no that when he is asked to play he does say no. I think it’s quicker for him to reject something he really wants because he can deal with the pain and move on. My son may not understand verbal fluency in a conversational way, but he understands love and his heart is as vast as the ocean. And mine breaks into a thousand pieces as I pick his up and cradle him in my arms. Why does the world have to be so cruel at times, when all he wants to do is offer it live, light, and kindness? ā¤ļø

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