Hello gentle readers. I want to let you know that I survived the plague last week, complete with the lovely rash I always get now when ill. This time my eyes were even affected, turning all red and gritty… I was one sexy thing, I will tell you that.
The kids are now back in school, and my youngest son is now in the seventh grade. He has begun using some foul language (imagine where he may have learned this…) and has a bit of an attitude at times. I have been clamping down on this. I talked with him one afternoon, and suggested that he try meditating. I explained how to do it, why I thought it might help him… especially at night when he was trying to sleep… as he really doesn’t want to sleep…
Anyway, today at his therapist’s office, we reviewed the past couple of weeks and I mentioned this. My son was resistant to the thought of meditating. The therapist and I both suggested that it might be helpful and to at least try it a few times before ruling it out. My son crossed his arms, rolled his eyes, and put on his defiant face. SIGH.
As we were walking out to the car, my son told me that the reason he didn’t want to meditate was that he didn’t want to think. He said that when his mind gets quiet he remembers bad memories from his time back in Africa.
I can’t tell you how much this hurts me.
I took a deep breath and said that what he needed to do was to stop the bad thought with a positive thought. I said that when I had thoughts that made me feel very sad or anxious, I remembered something that made me feel very happy–like the time that I went to Puerto Rico with my best friend and we fell asleep on the beach and woke up after everybody had gone home… and later that night went to the luminescent bay and saw the glowing water. I said that he was in charge of his thoughts… and that if he needed to visualize punching down the sad thoughts, to do so. I said your happy thoughts are your weapons against those thoughts that make you feel sad or bad.
I don’t know what his happy thoughts are. I hope he has enough stored up to punch down the darkness from his past. I know how difficult this can be. I will try to help him form some new, happy memories to combat the dark ones. I hope in time the old ones will fade… become less painful, less vivid…
Right now he is in the kitchen making chocolate chip cookies, happily wearing a red apron, tied in the back. He is humming away, flour flying, sugar spilling. I am letting the mess happen. It’s a happy memory in the making.
And that’s ok with me.