Jupiter

Jupiter

Imagine you are four years old and you are told that you were adopted.
You have autism and no one knows yet.
You have above average problem solving capabilities.
You know who your birth mother is and you have met many of your birth family.
This is how our son rationalized his situation:

He told us that he came here from Jupiter with his silly uncle.
He will be returning soon to live with his birth family on Jupiter.
First he and his silly uncle will have to fix their space ship.
But, they need to find spare parts.
Then they can repair the ship and leave.
He says he’ll miss you, but he needs to return to his birth family.
Now imagine having your four year old holding your face with both his little hands, looking you straight in the eyes trying to tell you his story.
You can not laugh because you know he is very serious and he will get upset.

Taking Time

Taking Time

“How are you doing?”
We ask and respond to this question, what, maybe a couple dozen times a week? Maybe more.
I have never really given the question much thought, it’s just a greeting you throw out.
What I have noticed is that, if I take the time to respond to the question, that people generally are not that interested.
When I start to explain how things are going with my injury or about a new symptom, they turn it into a joke or a personal story.
Is this a natural reaction to an uncomfortable situation, and our way of deflecting?
Is this a way of controlling the conversation?
Have we forgotten how to listen, or is this a case of poor manners?
Why did we ask if we weren’t interested in an answer?
When this happened to me again today, I felt disappointment and hurt, and that prompted me to share these thoughts.

This just felt so personal, but as I sat looking at the words I was writing, I realized they were more personal then I originally realized.
How many times had I asked that very same question? How many times had I taken the time to actually listen to the response?
Most times my response these days is “I’m ok”, “l’m fine”.  But,  I’m not ok,  I have shit going on that I can’t fix.  I have shit that others are controlling that I
don’t know if I’ll ever be able to change.
How many others have answered the question to me the same way, and have had their own shit to deal with but found that it was easier to say “l’m fine”, rather then be disappointed in a disinterested response.
This is my disappointment, that I didn’t give you the time you deserved, that you felt I wouldn’t be there to hear you.
When did our lives become so busy that we can’t give someone a few minutes to find out “ How are you doing?”.

Tom

Tom

It was one of those perfect fall September days, the sun was warm, the trees were turning, they had become that copper gold colour.
It was one of those days you wanted to drive with the windows open and the radio up.
I was driving passed the college when a car pulled out in front of me.  Inside were four young ladies coming from the college.
On the radio was playing Tom Petty’s “You Don’t Know How It Feels“.  This song has a strong defined drum beat.  If you have ever heard the song, you know what I’m talking about.
It turns out the girls in the car in front of me are listening to the same station.  I know this because every time the song hit that beat, the girls bounce in their seats.  They are laughing and have smiles on their faces.
Perfect.
This is how I’m going to always remember my radio friend Tom.