It's Easter morning but it sure doesn't feel like it. Hard to feel the wonder or mystery without the hymns and words and signs of celebration that being in a full church brings.
Hard to make homegrown celebrations when my husband is of another religious practice that is still deep in the darkest days of fasting and waiting and he won't celebrate the great resurrection for another week. I've decided to hold off on baskets and eggs until Pascha so we just do one celebration all together since family unity is more important than a date on a calendar...but still. It's hard. And a reminder that he left my religious practice knowing I could not follow and that decision he made is still the most difficult thing in our marriage and home. I make the choice not to fight it because I understood that I lost that battle the moment he made a decision that was about his needs, not ours, and that decision was made years before I even knew it and it was not going to ever be undone. So I choose to co-exist, but it is never an easy co-existence.
Hard to feel the excitement that every new year celebration brings when the future is uncertain. There are three new beginning celebrations each year: the new calendar year on Jan 1st, the new religious year at Easter in springtime, and the new school year in August. I'm mentally bracing myself for what the new school year will bring. I never, ever dreamed that I'd be worrying about sending my eldest child off to college amidst the possible resurgence of a pandemic. All those nightmares I've had for years about him getting sick and being all alone in a dorm room with no one to care for him...I thought those were just nameless, random mother fears. I never thought I'd be fearing an actual killer virus raging across the world.
And, finally, something happened yesterday that is rare but has been repeated often enough now I recognize what I am seeing. And it brings the deepest sadness and dread upon me. Yesterday, Jane had what I've come to call, "a lucid day". Her whole demeanor and speech patterns are radically different. First, she stutters terribly. Second, her whole manner is both slower and more aware and more authentic. It's like seeing the real her. She is sweet and cuddly and wants to spend the whole day cuddled in my lap telling me how much she loves me. She wants to stroke and touch me all over and have me tell her how much I love her. It is an exhausting day for me. I feel I must do these things she so deeply craves, but it's also so foreign and goes on for so long that I struggle to muster that much emotional connection all day long. (She's also a restless cuddler; changing her position every 10-15 seconds, yes, I counted. It's not enjoyable for me when she's digging in elbows, knees and toes to endlessly reposition herself. I have bruises by day's end.)
Jane seems to be tired, worn out, but also positive. Like someone finally recovering from a long illness who appears wan but is smiling weakly, glad to finally be free of the fever haze they've been living under.
I feel like on these days for some unknown reason the shell of mania that always covers her has fallen away and she's so happy to be able to see and speak clearly...not through this cloudy shell. She talks and talks and talks on these days, albeit with a sever stutter, she is so compelled to speak. She wants to explain so many things to me. And that part is fascinating. She explains, without prompting, all the weird behaviors she's been exhibiting the past few days.
For example, for the two days prior to yesterday she had been staring at me nonstop. A weird, creepy stare that is the most unsettling thing I've ever experienced. The stare of obsession. It wasn't happy or angry or emotive at all--just nonstop obsessive watching. She'd even forget to eat, instead craning her head around her sister to be able to stare at me. I'd ask her if she had a question or needed something and she'd silently shake her head. By day two I'd just say, "stop staring" and she'd do this weird thing where she quickly dropped her head and turned it away in a dramatic, forceful way to make herself stop staring...but I'd still see her eyes peeking out at me. Like she couldn't control her eyes even while she tried to force her body away.
So, yesterday she explains all that. She sounds sad and confused and talks about not knowing she is staring and it's happened for reasons she doesn't know why but it's all the time, all the time she's looking and she doesn't even know it, sometimes she doesn't even know where she is and then I say, "stop" and she tries but then it happens again. (these are her words)
I wonder if those two days were an escalation of the mania to the point where she had to stare at me, use me as an anchor in a whirlwind. I wonder if that's the pattern: mania escalates to a breaking point and then it falls away and...we're left with whatever yesterday's behavior can be called.
I am looking into a mentally ill brain. I know this. And I am so sad for this little girl. I believe that there is a sweet, loving, kind girl underneath all these layers of mania. I believe her mind is roaring from one thought to another every second of the day and she cannot control it. I believe her constantly chaotic movement and play is a sign of a chaotic brain that cannot organize a thought. She wanted to be next to me every second yesterday so she offered to help with whatever I was doing. At dinner she wanted to set the table. She has set the table many dozens of times before without problem. But this time she got stuck at every single step. I mean, I set a pile of four plates on the counter and told her to take them one at a time to the table. She'd take one and then come back to the kitchen and stare at that pile of plates because her short term memory held on just long enough to bring her back to that same spot but she could not remember what to do with the plates. She'd stare at the plates, working through this tortuous thinking process because the girl cannot make a logical connection and start talking to herself and eventually by saying the world "plate" out loud that'd trigger some idea that plates go on tables and then she'd go, "oh yeah!" and remember she was in the middle of putting them on the table. I watched this happen three times in a row, for plate number 2, 3, and 4.
It is heartbreaking. Because she isn't cognitively impaired. She's actually quite bright and is picking up reading skills and expanding her vocabulary and getting math concepts very easily because she has this fantastic visual and auditory memory she can tap into for learning new things. But, anything that requires an organized thought--any kind of logic/reasoning task, any kind of play that isn't scattering objects to the four winds, dressing or undressing herself where she must follow steps (a million times I've seen her try to take her underwear off before taking her pants off, or try to put pants on before putting underwear on).
I am just sad. I know unbelievably difficult days are in our future. I know Theo doesn't see it, or won't see it by choice.
I understand why people believed in split personalities. Her speech--such a dramatic stutter that wasn't there the day before and now isn't there today--and her demeanor is so radically different I'd almost believe she was a different person.
Actually, thinking specifically about her speech, I feel like I've seen three personalities in four days. Thur and Fri she did a nonstop babytalk that she does when happy/excited. She constantly wants to show us something she's done and uses a whiny/babytalk voice to describe it, while hopping up and down and flapping her hands. Saturday she stuttered over every initial word of every phrase to the point of complete blockage. Her speech was slower but also much more descriptive and reflective. She shared lots of memories and tried to explain lots of things about prior events that she thought I didn't understand (weird stuff like, why she doesn't like going under the water when swimming even tho nobody had been talking about swimming at all, but it was super important that she explain this, as if I had just that moment been questioning her about it). Today, Sunday, she is talking normally. No babytalk and no stutter whatsoever.
Back to the usual Jane who was mean to her sister this morning and already in trouble by 8:30am (told Kate she wasn't allowed to leave her room, then went downstairs by herself. Nonesensical behavior with no context. Kate sobbing and scared when I found her. And why does Kate believe her?? Kate has been coming into our bedroom each morning when she wakes; why did she think this morning would be different? Why didn't she ignore Jane's edict and just come to ask me if this weird command was true? What power does Jane hold over her?)
So, happy Easter after a crazy year, in the midst of a crazy time, and on the brink of a, literally, crazy future. I feel like I'm in a disaster movie and the plane is about to crash and the airline attendants are yelling, "Brace! Brace! Brace!" But meanwhile my whole family is up walking the aisle blissfully unaware.
Hard to make homegrown celebrations when my husband is of another religious practice that is still deep in the darkest days of fasting and waiting and he won't celebrate the great resurrection for another week. I've decided to hold off on baskets and eggs until Pascha so we just do one celebration all together since family unity is more important than a date on a calendar...but still. It's hard. And a reminder that he left my religious practice knowing I could not follow and that decision he made is still the most difficult thing in our marriage and home. I make the choice not to fight it because I understood that I lost that battle the moment he made a decision that was about his needs, not ours, and that decision was made years before I even knew it and it was not going to ever be undone. So I choose to co-exist, but it is never an easy co-existence.
Hard to feel the excitement that every new year celebration brings when the future is uncertain. There are three new beginning celebrations each year: the new calendar year on Jan 1st, the new religious year at Easter in springtime, and the new school year in August. I'm mentally bracing myself for what the new school year will bring. I never, ever dreamed that I'd be worrying about sending my eldest child off to college amidst the possible resurgence of a pandemic. All those nightmares I've had for years about him getting sick and being all alone in a dorm room with no one to care for him...I thought those were just nameless, random mother fears. I never thought I'd be fearing an actual killer virus raging across the world.
And, finally, something happened yesterday that is rare but has been repeated often enough now I recognize what I am seeing. And it brings the deepest sadness and dread upon me. Yesterday, Jane had what I've come to call, "a lucid day". Her whole demeanor and speech patterns are radically different. First, she stutters terribly. Second, her whole manner is both slower and more aware and more authentic. It's like seeing the real her. She is sweet and cuddly and wants to spend the whole day cuddled in my lap telling me how much she loves me. She wants to stroke and touch me all over and have me tell her how much I love her. It is an exhausting day for me. I feel I must do these things she so deeply craves, but it's also so foreign and goes on for so long that I struggle to muster that much emotional connection all day long. (She's also a restless cuddler; changing her position every 10-15 seconds, yes, I counted. It's not enjoyable for me when she's digging in elbows, knees and toes to endlessly reposition herself. I have bruises by day's end.)
Jane seems to be tired, worn out, but also positive. Like someone finally recovering from a long illness who appears wan but is smiling weakly, glad to finally be free of the fever haze they've been living under.
I feel like on these days for some unknown reason the shell of mania that always covers her has fallen away and she's so happy to be able to see and speak clearly...not through this cloudy shell. She talks and talks and talks on these days, albeit with a sever stutter, she is so compelled to speak. She wants to explain so many things to me. And that part is fascinating. She explains, without prompting, all the weird behaviors she's been exhibiting the past few days.
For example, for the two days prior to yesterday she had been staring at me nonstop. A weird, creepy stare that is the most unsettling thing I've ever experienced. The stare of obsession. It wasn't happy or angry or emotive at all--just nonstop obsessive watching. She'd even forget to eat, instead craning her head around her sister to be able to stare at me. I'd ask her if she had a question or needed something and she'd silently shake her head. By day two I'd just say, "stop staring" and she'd do this weird thing where she quickly dropped her head and turned it away in a dramatic, forceful way to make herself stop staring...but I'd still see her eyes peeking out at me. Like she couldn't control her eyes even while she tried to force her body away.
So, yesterday she explains all that. She sounds sad and confused and talks about not knowing she is staring and it's happened for reasons she doesn't know why but it's all the time, all the time she's looking and she doesn't even know it, sometimes she doesn't even know where she is and then I say, "stop" and she tries but then it happens again. (these are her words)
I wonder if those two days were an escalation of the mania to the point where she had to stare at me, use me as an anchor in a whirlwind. I wonder if that's the pattern: mania escalates to a breaking point and then it falls away and...we're left with whatever yesterday's behavior can be called.
I am looking into a mentally ill brain. I know this. And I am so sad for this little girl. I believe that there is a sweet, loving, kind girl underneath all these layers of mania. I believe her mind is roaring from one thought to another every second of the day and she cannot control it. I believe her constantly chaotic movement and play is a sign of a chaotic brain that cannot organize a thought. She wanted to be next to me every second yesterday so she offered to help with whatever I was doing. At dinner she wanted to set the table. She has set the table many dozens of times before without problem. But this time she got stuck at every single step. I mean, I set a pile of four plates on the counter and told her to take them one at a time to the table. She'd take one and then come back to the kitchen and stare at that pile of plates because her short term memory held on just long enough to bring her back to that same spot but she could not remember what to do with the plates. She'd stare at the plates, working through this tortuous thinking process because the girl cannot make a logical connection and start talking to herself and eventually by saying the world "plate" out loud that'd trigger some idea that plates go on tables and then she'd go, "oh yeah!" and remember she was in the middle of putting them on the table. I watched this happen three times in a row, for plate number 2, 3, and 4.
It is heartbreaking. Because she isn't cognitively impaired. She's actually quite bright and is picking up reading skills and expanding her vocabulary and getting math concepts very easily because she has this fantastic visual and auditory memory she can tap into for learning new things. But, anything that requires an organized thought--any kind of logic/reasoning task, any kind of play that isn't scattering objects to the four winds, dressing or undressing herself where she must follow steps (a million times I've seen her try to take her underwear off before taking her pants off, or try to put pants on before putting underwear on).
I am just sad. I know unbelievably difficult days are in our future. I know Theo doesn't see it, or won't see it by choice.
I understand why people believed in split personalities. Her speech--such a dramatic stutter that wasn't there the day before and now isn't there today--and her demeanor is so radically different I'd almost believe she was a different person.
Actually, thinking specifically about her speech, I feel like I've seen three personalities in four days. Thur and Fri she did a nonstop babytalk that she does when happy/excited. She constantly wants to show us something she's done and uses a whiny/babytalk voice to describe it, while hopping up and down and flapping her hands. Saturday she stuttered over every initial word of every phrase to the point of complete blockage. Her speech was slower but also much more descriptive and reflective. She shared lots of memories and tried to explain lots of things about prior events that she thought I didn't understand (weird stuff like, why she doesn't like going under the water when swimming even tho nobody had been talking about swimming at all, but it was super important that she explain this, as if I had just that moment been questioning her about it). Today, Sunday, she is talking normally. No babytalk and no stutter whatsoever.
Back to the usual Jane who was mean to her sister this morning and already in trouble by 8:30am (told Kate she wasn't allowed to leave her room, then went downstairs by herself. Nonesensical behavior with no context. Kate sobbing and scared when I found her. And why does Kate believe her?? Kate has been coming into our bedroom each morning when she wakes; why did she think this morning would be different? Why didn't she ignore Jane's edict and just come to ask me if this weird command was true? What power does Jane hold over her?)
So, happy Easter after a crazy year, in the midst of a crazy time, and on the brink of a, literally, crazy future. I feel like I'm in a disaster movie and the plane is about to crash and the airline attendants are yelling, "Brace! Brace! Brace!" But meanwhile my whole family is up walking the aisle blissfully unaware.
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