An Invisible Force...

To date, scientists have been able to identify four fundamental invisible forces that hold everything together in our Universe.  Scientists all over the world have accepted the concept of these various interactions within the physical world based on pure observation and a certain degree of experimentation.  The simple fact that they are able to measure the influence that these forces have on our surroundings, apparently is good enough for them to assume that they are real.  Gravitation, electromagnetic force, strong force, and the weak force are the names that have been given to these interactions by scientists.  Gravitation, for example, has been studied for centuries and currently a great effort has been put into place by researches to discover a particle that they have already named the “graviton,” in order to explain its influence on the physical world.  To date, the elusive “graviton” has not been proven to exist or discovered in any of the experiments that have been conducted.  However, since we all can feel the effects of gravitation in our lives, it is only fair that humanity accept its role as part of our existence.  On a smaller scale, the three other interactions between the minute particles that have already been proven to exist and compose all that is contained in our Universe have also been accepted without visible proof.  If we were able to zoom in or magnify anything in our world, sooner or later we would discover that tiny particles called atoms are the building blocks of all matter.  However, even smaller are what we call sub-atomic particles which in turn are the building blocks of atoms.  Inside an atom, in its center, particles called neutrons and protons are held together tightly by another invisible force which scientists have elected to name the strong force.  The even smaller particles which fundamentally compose neutrons and protons are also held together by this strong force.  Somewhere, almost randomly hovering outside the center part of an atom which is also called the nucleus; particles called electrons are kept from floating away by the other force called the weak force.  It is because this force is not as powerful as the strong force that the electrons from atoms are able to interact with the electrons from other atoms creating molecules, which when they are abundant enough become everything we see around us.

What I find extremely interesting that in an effort to understand and explain these forces, names have been assigned, mathematical models have been created, and in many cases more than one theory has been set in motion that can describe these forces.  Still though, scientific arrogance is great enough to assume that what we believe today must be true regardless of how our experience has tough us that we have been wrong many times in the past.  Invisible forces are not the only place in science for which we have created models that are constantly changing our belief system.  Light, for example, is not truly understood.  In order to try to explain it, scientists have named its basic particle as the “photon.”  However, when experiments are conducted to verify if light is really a particle, a sort of duality becomes apparent.  On the one hand light behaves as a particle and on the other as a wave instead.  So in essence, again scientists are mostly clueless as to the true composition of light.  Interestingly though, scientist have been fine with accepting this duality for light, even though a scientific explanation for particle duality has been lacking.  In other words, as stringent as the scientific community is with regards to needing physical proof to accept the existence of their discoveries, I tend to notice a great deal of faith placed in some of the most fundamentally accepted notions of science.  Invisible forces and the duality of light are just two of many other accepted scientific controversies.

I make the above point in order to explain myself a little bit better with regards to why it is that even though I too am a man of science, I find very little controversy within myself by also being a man of faith.  Science in itself is full of controversy and leaps of faith.  I might be able to mathematically explain a great deal of what happens around me in the physical world, yet when it comes down to it at any time what I thought was solid answer to my scientific results could turn out to be mostly wrong.  In other words, just because I can prove it, does not make it right.  By the same thought process I find it safe to say that just because I cannot prove it, does not make it wrong either.  The problem is that we are, as a civilization, in diapers.  Infants to the understanding of all that surrounds us.  We might think we know the answer to incredibly difficult questions, yet our minds have not yet evolved enough to grasp the truth and reality of our existence.  This is not a putdown to our evolutionary location in time, it is just a fact that we need to accept before we can take the next step to becoming a more mature civilization.  The challenge for you and I is that our human life span is a miniscule portion of our civilization’s evolutionary growth scale.  What this means is that as a society we will not grow fast enough to reap most benefits to our efforts in attaining greater enlightenment during our own lifetime.  On the other hand, if it was not for the efforts of our ancestors, we would not be in a better place today, which in turn gives meaning and importance to our present efforts in order to contribute to the well being of future generations.

I cannot make a stronger argument towards the value of being a good parent than my belief that my efforts today will somehow reap fruit in the lives of my children tomorrow.  To me, the results are obvious when I look back at how dedicated, loving, and giving my own parents were with me.  At most junctures in my life the decisions and choices that I have made have always been impacted by the influence of my parents.  This is not to say that I have always made the right choices, however, their lives have always served me as a gauge to measure and compare myself.  Knowing how their lives have influenced mine gives me a great deal of motivation to try to do the same for my own children.  Hopefully my personal growth will trigger theirs, and theirs will trigger their children’s, and so on.  The steps that I take in the right direction are a good start for creating a path for future generations.

Just as scientists have found a justifiable means of believing that invisible forces and the controversy of lights duality are real, I find no reason to dismiss so many of the other forces that guide the choices in my life.  Just because it is a matter of the mind and heart does not make it any less relevant or important.  In fact, just because I do not totally understand it, does not make it less real.  I cannot see it but I feel gravity as it pulls on my aging body making it harder and harder with time to get out of bed every morning.  I also feel love as it pulls me towards making better choices in my life with relationships and when parenting my children.  At the risk of offending anyone that might not have the same belief system that I do, I also confess feeling God’s hand touching some of the most intimate places of my heart and soul on a daily basis.  In fact, I have found my spiritual belief system to be essential in my survival of all of the challenging experiences I have encountered in my life.  It might seem as if I am strong enough to walk this path on my own, but I know better to assume that no other force is at work in my life.  I wish I could take credit for my professional success, but when I take my own internal survey to assess where I am in life, it is much more than obvious that God has blessed me immensely.  In my ability to continue to parent my children, especially the challenges that I have faced with my oldest son, I see nothing within me that could keep my head above water on my own.  I am mostly lost when I face difficult moments, and it might sound weak, but I am typically more ready to give up than I am to go on when the waters turn turbulent and the road seems dark and scary.  I know then, and mostly then, how little power I have in making the moments survivable.  I find it impossible not to humble myself and so I pray for Devine intervention, knowing fully well that without it I am most certain to find myself in an even darker place.

Every time I feel lost, frustrated, and wanting to complain about my difficulties, it only takes a few seconds of self reflection to realize that in life things can always be worse…always!  As painful and difficult as a moment might get, I know that that exact moment is meant for me to learn and grow.  I might not want it and most definitely not like it, but it is my moment and I have to learn to embrace it in order to get to the other side and survive it.  Fortunatelly for me there is an invisible Force that has always manifested itself in my life giving me the strength I need to go on.  I'm not sure how it works, I cannot do the math to explain it, but it works, and I am grateful.

Dad

Soaking...

I am really glad that warmer days are finally here.  Last night I decided to turn on the Jacuzzi heater a few hours before sunset to have the water just right for a relaxing moment later in the night.  As usual I mentioned my intent to my younger son as an enticing offer to come and chillax for a little while later in the evening.  At the moment he had been feeling a little under the weather because of some abdominal discomfort that had started two days earlier, so he replied by telling me he was not sure if he would be coming into the water or not.  The planet took its time rotating into the sunset position, but eventually without hesitation the earlier blue skies began to transform themselves into a kaleidoscope of colors that could defy the most talented artist to be able to reproduce on canvas.  I looked at the horizon and not only was I able to see the majestic beauty of it all, but also the constant reminder that the sunset also serves as an indicator that life is much more than the instant that we are in; time moves forward regardless of were we are in this great big blue ball.

Half an hour after I was soaking in the warm pleasant water I was surprised to see my youngest child walking out of the house in his swim trunks into the back yard carrying a towel.  Seconds later he was in the water and we were both back into our typical friendly sharing the moment mood.  Our massive planet had already rotated enough to block all of the powerful flow of photons ejected from our sun allowing the sky to darken enough for us to be able to see many of the brightest stars.  “Ahhhh, what a wonderful feeling of peace and normalcy…” my mind whispered into my consciousness.  One subject led to another and as usual our conversation flowed smoother than anyone could expect for it to flow between an old man and a 14 year old.  He too started writing a blog at the same time I began writing this one, and I have always been pleasantly surprised to know how incredibly consistent he has been at posting at least three times a week for the last nine months.  He talked about how more and more people were leaving comments to his posts, and also how much better of a speller he had become because of his effort.  However, more important than the content of our conversations was the true value of the moment that we shared; the bonding of father and son and the insight that we always gain into each other’s lives and our minds.

God has found a way to effortlessly reward me by allowing me to have a second child that brings an enormous amount of balance into my life.  When this child was only 6 months old we almost lost him to aseptic meningitis, which in many ways at the moment felt as a cruel reality of destiny.  I clearly remember the moment I was requested to hold on to him firmly as the physicians needed to insert what seemed as an enormous needle between his vertebrates to extract spinal fluid.  The infant’s tears flowed from his tiny eyes like a water fountain as he cried inconsolably from the pain of the spinal tap procedure.  I stayed strong and firm in my determination to not allow him to move while the experts performed their job, but my heart was anything but strong and firm.  Inside the anguish, the pain, the fear was cursing through my every fiber desperately seeking a way to reveal them too.  A week later after the boy was out of the hospital, I remember during a private moment getting down on my knees in gratitude and giving thanks to God for allowing me to still have my child.  Throughout the years my youngest son has by far exceeded all of my parental expectations and given me so many reasons to want to remain firm in my task as a father.  Many times I have wondered if in the middle of my darkest moments I would have been able to find the same strength to go on if this child was not in my life.  So in essence, I feel in debt to him for giving me so much of what I need to be a better father.

Ninety minutes after he walked into the hot spa water we both mostly forced ourselves to face to cooler outside air knowing that it was time to head to bed.  When I do this relaxation exercise in the evenings all on my own, I typically feel worn and ready to fall asleep after a quick shower.  The difference of doing this with my son is that he adds to the moment some of the fuel that I need as a father to recharge my efforts in parenting my other son.  We rarely talk about any of the problems that I am having parenting my oldest son, yet it is my oldest son that benefits the most of from it all.  At the most I might casually mention the status of our family affairs in what could almost be considered an executive level.  Maybe that is why my youngest son keeps coming back to spend time with his old man in the spa, because it is not just good for me, it is also good for him.

Dad

My left thumb...

I really thought that two weeks after the incident my left thumb would be completely back to normal.  Originally it felt the same as when I’ve sprained it playing basketball or volleyball, something I’ve done many times in my life.  Typically, a few days afterwards the pain is gone and I have totally forgotten how I hurt myself in the first place.  Apparently this is not the same since after two weeks I have only gained about forty percent of the original mobility and flexibility.  I suspect a hairline fracture, but have been too preoccupied by other things in my life to head to the doctor and have it checked.  In his intoxicated state my oldest son managed to inflict much more damage than ever before.  In fact, it had been over a year since the last time that there were any physical anger manifestations on his part, and at least two years since we originally spent 10 weeks of intense therapy dealing with his intermittent explosive disorder.  What I find the most interesting and yet concerning of all is my own reaction to this last incident.  For one, at the moment it truly took me by surprise so I had very little chance to brace myself, get out of the way, or even de-escalate the event.  One minute I was asking him to be more considerate about his noise level at 4:45 a.m., and the next I was being taken down to the ground in a violent struggle.  What amazes me the most is that I was not angry, which probably explains why I found myself in the awkward position on the floor with his fist reaching for my testicles in an effort to inflict excruciating pain.  I never truly became aggressive; all I wanted was to get off the floor and away from him.  Once I found the opportunity to do so, I retreated several feet away from him but then found one of his shoes hitting the left side of my face.  “Why would he do such a thing?” was the only question that came to mind.  He then charged again towards me, this time with the intent to kick me with his now shoeless foot, but by then my moment of confusion was over and I was able to react and get out of the way.  His foot hit the wall behind me instead and I could see that it hurt him a lot.  “You broke my foot!” he exclaimed, which brought an intense stare of amazement on my end knowing that the only reason he was in pain was because he meant to inflict his rage on me in the first place.  “I know people that own guns, I could get one and shoot you!” he yelled as he limped away towards his room.

I challenge you to count how many different ways I was injured that day.  The physical part of the altercation is but one of so many ways he hurt me.  I doubt that many parents ever expect to be in this situation, much less without provocation.  The groin pain subsided much faster than I anticipated and the face injury from the thrown shoe did not leave any mark or any residual pain.  However, that sharp pain that still lingers in my left thumb is a vivid reminder of the unanticipated moment or rage I encountered from my son two weeks ago.  Every time I accidently move my thumb thinking it is not going to hurt, the entire experience comes rushing back alive in my mind.

After 72 hours of “observation,” my son was sent back home.  My immediate reaction was obvious internally still fearing for my life, but I never did say much more to him that day than “no drugs, no alcohol in my home,” and then I walked away.  Now more than ever I have been sleeping with my door locked, and have not said much more to him than the usual offers of pleasantries and food.  He’s approached me several times with the typical $1.50 request to buy coffee at the corner Chevron station and a few other things, but we have not had a conversation with regards to the incident.  You see, if he was wired like most of us, then me wanting to set new or more stringent rules would not only make sense, but also be expected.  However, I already know that if I raise the bar things only get not just a little worse, but a lot worse.  Instead I am buying time, allowing him to meet with his new therapist, letting him discover the damage he inflicted on me on his own and a little bit at a time.  He knows I am hurt, it is obvious in my demeanor and how thick the air is between us.  The most impacting injury is inside my emotional state.  I am afraid of my son, I am sad or more accurately depressed because of how incredibly painful it is to love him so much and be rewarded with so little respect in return.  For the first time in 17 years I have felt much more like a victim than I have ever felt before, yet I refuse to accept that role knowing that what has driven him to this behavior is not his will, but his illness.

I have thought about this all day long today and I believe that the reason I have not yet gone to the doctor to have an x-ray done of my hand is because I do not want to lie.  If I go in I feel more as a victim by answering the question of what happened to me by giving some lame answer such as “I hurt myself playing basketball,” than telling the truth, “my son became violent and hurt me!”  You would think it would be backwards.  The truth makes me look so much more like a victim to the outer world, yet lying to hide the fact of being a victim makes me feel weak and not in control of my life.  Does this make any sense?  It is as if I truly could care less what others think, and what I think matters much more so because I am the one that has to live with myself.

There are moments in all of our lives that can only be understood by the few that experience them first hand.  Telling someone of how amazingly happy I felt when I held my children for the first time when they were born does not do justice to the actual feeling in itself.  Trying to describe to a stranger our feelings is not only difficult, but in most instances impossible.  I believe that is why we have such a difficult time explaining to anyone how sorry we are after hurting them, probably because our life experience has already taught us that getting our point across is mainly futile.  Yet we all know how important it is to hear it, to feel it, to be the receptor of an apology; without it we mostly feel lost in our hurt.  I doubt it that there could be a greater love manifestation than that which is revealed in true forgiveness.  It is the ultimate act of love, to truly forgive.

“I need you to know, even though these words will probably reach you when you have finally become a man, that I love you and forgive you my son.”

Dad

Sooner, rather than later...

When I look at the various flowers in my garden, I see so much variety that it amazes me how beauty can come in so many flavors.  The smells are wondrous and the colors are bright seeking the attention of birds and bees to easily find their way from far away in order to pollinate and spread their seeds at distances that otherwise would be impossible.  Nature has found a way to make things happen even though no actual sentient mental process is involved, no brain, no neurons, and no human intervention.  In this intricate and complex process of mindless procreation things happen only when they are supposed to happen.  The right season and weather conditions induce their bloom, which is entirely in tune with their survival and surrounding.  No creature has to contribute to making the plants the right color.  The plants themselves have everything they need encoded within them to entice their surrounding world to contribute to their well being.

Recently, my oldest son and I had a significant fallout, to put it mildly.  Just a few days earlier one of his close friends arrived at my home with his hands covered in blood after an argument at his parent’s house which ended in him putting his fist through a glass window.  As the young man walked into my home asking if he could use my bathroom to wash and heal his wounds, less than one minute later a deputy arrived because his parents had made a 911 call to report his aggressive behavior.  Patrol cars arrived, the teenage boy was cuffed, and in less than an hour the decision had been made to take him to a hospital to have him “evaluated.”  Later that same day, in an effort to show my support to my son and two of his friends, I offered that if they were in trouble because of using drugs like meth that I would gladly support their efforts in finding them the appropriate help.  I said nothing more, nothing less, and my words were heart filled with kindness and non judgmental.  In return, my son followed my comment a few minutes later with a barrage of insults via phone texting explicitly demanding that I stay out of their lives.  Removing much of the profanity, this is the content of his messages -

“SON: You are the biggest a-----e ever.  You don’t mention meth in front of rehabilitating tweekers like (name of other boy).  You don’t act like you have any f-----g clue, ANY F-----G CLUE, how to handle or to understand at all any part of the recovery process, you don’t attempt to muddle with people who are doing successful in their sobriety because THE VERY SECOND you stick your hands in you ruin our chances of happiness, our chances of living sober. We understand and are well enough acclimated with ourselves to coach ourselves through this process.  The moment an ignorant outsider like you tries to "help", which just means do whatever the f--k benefits you, is the same moment we find ourselves pushed towards an unhealthy decision, because admit it or not you have NO IDEA how our minds work or the way we view the world because as selfish and narcissist as you might be to admit, the universe is subjective and the purest fact is that you know NOTHING, that you can know NOTHING, I only know that I know nothing, Socrates, so every time you or anyone who knows nothing tries anything something bad always happens. We know how to keep each other sober. F--k, we're even going to an NA meeting tomorrow and we don’t have to. But the second you start judging, the second you start threatening, the second you intervene at all even in the tiniest way, is the second I want to give up everything I'm striving for just to spite your ignorance, the second I want to throw my life away just for the statement, the second I want to buy all the drugs I can even if I don’t want to.

DAD:  I agree, believe it or not...this is harder for me than you think and I just don't want you and your friends to get hurt.  I am scared of losing you to jail or worse, death.

SON:  I've needed to tell you this for a while: for god’s sake, STOP trying to intervene. I don't care what selfish reason you have, I don't care how it makes you feel or what it makes you think, because as blind as you are to it, those are ALL the most SELFISH and DISGUSTING reasons to feel anything or to think anything and every time I have to endure them it drives me farther and farther to choices I should not make AND I AM AT A POINT WHERE I DONT WANT TO MAKE THOSE CHOICES ANY MORE. So if you are just going to get mad and not listen then I am going to end up killing myself, either slowly with a drug or quickly with a jump, and I'm a rational person who wants neither so if you really love me and don’t just love yourself and use the delusion of loving me to feed your ego, then just STOP. Just f-----g stop because I'm tired and can’t take much more. That’s all I'm trying to say.

DAD: I truly agree...good night...I need to get some rest.”

The message was clear, it held in its content and tone the same bright colors that some reptiles wear as a warning for other creatures to stay clear of their venom.  Obviously my short words of agreement were an effort to diffuse his unexpected rage and allow him to say his peace without judgment.  In reality, I am not sure what to think of most of the content of his outburst.  It has taken me days to assimilate what in some places seem like hopeful words of someone that is wanting to get out of whatever trap they are in, and in others the unspoiled anger that could be brought out by insanity.  “Leave me alone, I don’t need your love, your help, and your intervention to become healthy again…” are the sharpest notes of this song.  “If you try to help, all that I will do is making things worse just to spite you…” is the chorus.  I could barely sleep that night trying to make sense of what at that moment seemed as some of the most hurtful words that my son had ever said to me.  Yet I knew that I had very little choice in the matter, so I found my place back in the arms of my solitude and prayers.

Nothing can prepare you for the things that are scheduled to happen in your life, but are totally out of your control.  One night afterwards, while requesting that he kept his loud behavior inside our home in order to not annoy the neighbors at 4:50 a.m., I found myself at the other end of a physically aggressive response which eventually led to calling the police to have him taken to be evaluated at a hospital, just as had happened to the other boy a few days before.  As the deputy asked me if I wanted to press charges of assault, I found myself under the proverbial rock of knowing that what I wanted and what he needed were two entirely different things.  I never answered the question which eventually led the deputy to call in another officer that specialized in teenage crisis situations.  The unfortunately familiar routine of handcuffs, the backseat of a patrol car, and the heart breaking experience of having my son taken away is something that I am unable to truly put into words.  For lack of a better description, imagine that an alien being had the power to reach into your chest and tightly squeeze your heart to no end, maybe this is what it really feels like, but I am not entirely sure.

As I went to visit him on one of the two daily one hour visiting opportunities, I calmly asked if he understood what he had done that got him hospitalized in the first place.  Immediately he replied that I had initiated the physical confrontation and that he had almost been released until the emergency room doctor decided to call me and ask me questions with regards to the event.  He claims to not remember being the aggressor.  No acknowledgement to taking off his shoe and throwing it unexpectedly to my face.  Worst of all, no real sign of feeling any remorse or guilt other than saying whatever words might allow him to be released.  One of the things he either denies or truly does not remember saying was a threat of getting a gun from a friend and shooting me.  I believe that this was actually the reason his mother decided to call the police after I had locked myself in my room and made an effort to explain to her what had happened over the phone.  At the moment I was confused, and hurt not only physically, but also emotionally.  The moment had crippled my ability to make any decision as to how to proceed.  In fact, when he had become violent, I had done something entirely not in my character by retreating instead of taking a physical stand.  Regardless of the physical injuries that even today, three days later, don’t allow me to use one of my hands, the worst part of the attack was that to my heart.  As corny or pathetic as it may sound, what hurts the most is my bruised heart from this encounter.

If nature has all of the encoding necessary to take care of itself, why is it that us humans posses so little power to influence what surrounds our lives in order to be well?  I constantly find myself struggling to understand the reason that drives so many people to inflict harm to others instead of help each other survive.  I can’t for the life of me see the point of so much unnecessary hurt and pain.  It is not as if I have neglected to keep my part of the deal with God, since I love my son unconditionally and without limits.  I pray that at some point in time all of this will make some kind of sense, because at this very moment it is far from clear to me why it has to happen in the first place.

Please do me a favor and pray for me and my son so that the super natural things that are supposed to happen to make us whole again, take place soon rather than later.

Dad

GO AWAY AND DON'T COME BACK!!!

There is a really good reason for which entertainment parks like Disneyland have all those safety features built into all of their rides. For example, the boarding gates will only open after the ride has come to a complete stop and the previous passengers have gotten off the ride. Also, there is a pretty safe distance between any fun seeking attendees and the moving vehicle to avoid anyone from losing a limb or their life by accident. While in line there are multiple signs warning us in advance of any risk we will be taking, minimum age and height requirements, health predispositions that could be aggravated, and all the rules we must follow in order to stay safe. Once we have boarded the ride the contraption will not continue until all of the participants and their belongings are all buckled and tucked into the proper place. Even with all of these precautions, as we board and get ready to go for the short ride, our heart rate increases anticipating the thrill of the moment about to come. Typically, less than 60 seconds later the ride is over and most of us are smiling about the excitement we experienced and how happy we are that we made it back in one piece. One of the reasons we do these things in the first place is because we feel confident that we will not get hurt. If we felt that our lives were in any real danger, chances are that we would not participate in such adventures in the first place.

Last year, around this same time of year my oldest son got himself into a bit of trouble for not taking our advice about staying home instead of trying to get to school when he finally decided to get out of bed. The story of this incident and all of the fallout is contained in a previous post, so I promise not to revisit the details again. However, there was one thing that I learned from that experience that I believe merits being addressed shortly today. As a parent, at the time I felt compelled to intervene in as many ways possible to try to help my boy get out of his predicament with the law, plus make sure that he was educated in many of the things he was doing wrong with his life by the choices he was making at the time. I have but a single regret from that past experience and it is that I should have taken more of a spectator position in my involvement rather than a participant. At the moment I thought that if I showed my full hearted support and made every effort to put myself into the equation, in the end he would be able to see how much I love him and want his life to be ok. The price I paid for my unwavering support was that in the end he mostly blamed me for all of his bad choices and decisions instead of taking responsibility for himself. In less than a day, I got on an emotional roller coaster to which I had absolutely no control over its path and found myself not being able to get off the ride until it came to a complete stop six months later. Worst of all, I got in without reading any of the warning signs, and had absolutely no clue as to what rules I needed to follow to stay safe and sound. By the time I was able to get out of this treacherous ride I felt pretty much like a rag doll that had been dragged around the yard by a cute but extremely hyperactive puppy which in the end simply dug a hole and buried me in hopes to conceal any evidence of my existence. You might feel that I exaggerate, but I am here to tell you that the above description is more than accurate and fair.

For the last two weeks I’ve found myself having to control my parental urges to get emotionally tangled in another crazy roller coaster ride that my oldest teenage son initiated after doing something really dumb on his part and getting in trouble again. This time, a whole different set of circumstances led him to do something similarly stupid which again has gotten him enrolled in the juvenile court system with a pending court date, a sure community service penalty, and a fine. I am not going to go into all of the current details, mostly because regardless of the crime the purpose of this post is not dwell on what I have no control over, but to share what seems to work instead. Ever since I got off the previous out of control ride I have been dreading when the next one would begin. Fortunately I still have a few remaining good neurons that allow me to learn from my mistakes, so I have decided to take a much more passive role in him recovering from his mistake.

I have learned that my oldest son’s wiring, probably just as most of ours is too, is not only different, but also fixed. Short from a brain transplant there is very little I can do about how he is wired. When something bad happens to him, the chaos that follows in his behavior is much different than many of us. To you or me, getting fined by a police officer for speeding will ruin our day, maybe our week. In the end though, we will accept our punishment and take note to try to avoid getting into any more trouble that will end up costing us more money. On the other hand, to him this same event would cause him to binge in all kinds of erratic and unproductive behavior escalating the simple act of getting a speeding ticket to eventually getting arrested. As far back as I can remember most of his behavior towards events to which he has become accustomed to be the same as everybody else. However, just as the neurological assessment that was conducted when he was much younger revealed, change does not come easy to him at all. When something breaks the pattern of normalcy in his life, it is as if at that very moment King Kong decided to sit in front of the doors that keep his self control abilities in check…good luck moving that fat ape out of the way! For this same reason, when he does something that gets him into trouble I have learned that it makes very little sense to drag the consequences out for long periods of time, since this only holds the doors open inviting more problems to come in. The longer the process inflicting consequences, the harder it is for him to adapt and get back to being in a healthy state of mind. Typically, I have discovered that doing everything possible to minimize any significant change in his life is key to maintaining a sense of normalcy amongst us.

GO AWAY AND DON’T COME BACK!!!, read the hand written note that he posted on the window of his bedroom facing the front of our home for everyone of his friends to read. I first noticed it as I was driving back home after work. The letters where all large, capital, and it was obvious that a dark black pen had been angrily used to etch them one by one, over and over again, to cover the entirety of a sideways white sheet of printer paper. The night before he arrived at home around eight at night and spent a good two hours driving me crazy while searching all over the house for his guitar capo to use with my guitar. Earlier that afternoon I had came home and found his five hundred dollar guitar laying on the family room floor in several pieces. Later that week he revealed that he had fallen back while playing outdoors on a patio chair and the still not totally paid by his mother instrument had found its demise when it flew out of his hands and hit the concrete floor. He seemed more like a caged animal wandering back and forth while searching everywhere for his music tool in places like the kitchen cabinets in which it obviously had no reason to be in. In one of these instances he walked into his already messy room and in less than a minute turned it completely upside down and non-livable. As he walked out of his room with a handful containing at least fifty sheets of paper of songs he had recently composed, he went into the dinning room and dropped them all on the floor and kept walking to go outside and search again in the backyard. It had been almost a week after the incident that got him into trouble in the first place, and the note on his bedroom window had been erected at the peak of his defiance and rage which had slowly found its way into affecting everyone around him. This time however, I already knew better to keep my fingers out of the initial wrath and avoid getting them squished by his erratic, compulsive, and reactive behavior. Just as I was calling his mother to ask her to please go buy him a guitar capo to replace the one that had been lost and was causing all of the momentary commotion, suddenly I heard the closest sound to peace coming out of a corner of the dining room area. A friend had showed up and somehow found the elusive guitar capo and now my son was sitting calmly playing a beautiful self composed melody on my guitar. He stayed locked inside his room for the next two days after the angry looking sign was displayed. Anxiety cruised through my body like it always does when I feel helpless towards saving him from his own pain, but nothing ever works and things only get worse when I try to intervene. Once the moment took its course I found him back in the family room watching TV when I got back from work and I offered food for which he initially rejected, but later discovered on his own to be a good idea. As I brought the source of nourishment he paused the TV waiting for me to leave him alone, but I took the single moment in time to offer just the simplest of comments. “I know you are going through a rough moment, I just want you to know that I am here for you if you need me,” I told him. He lifted his eyes to look into mine for the first time in almost over two weeks and simply said, “OK, bye!”

It has been over three weeks now and still I am not totally aware of the status of it all. The letter confirming his need to be in Juvenile court in a few months already arrived, but it makes absolutely no sense to bring it up to him again this far in advance since it would only serve to make things worse instead of better. The original furry of erratic behavior following the triggering incident has decreased in intensity just as if the roller coaster has been replaced from a ride you might call “Death Mountain” to a much tamer “Scary Mountain” instead. This time though, instead of getting on and not being able to get off at will and contrary to last year’s mistake, I am more like the guy guiding people on and off the ride safely. I have chosen to just ride once a day to make sure it is still safe, but then keep my feet on solid ground. After all, who will be there to pull on the brake handle if something goes really wrong? It is not like I can do that while sitting inside the ride, right? Still, I feel spent in a very short amount of time. It is as if the second time around just watching has many of the ill effects of riding during the first time around. There are many reasons to why I feel this way, one being that once you’ve done it, it is not easy to forget what it feels like, the other being that second hand smoke kills too. However, at least this way I am able to keep myself under control even if I am not able to do the same for my son.

Dad