Movin' ...and Shakin'

Again, it's been a while since I posted here, so quite a bit to catch up on (though I'll try to summarize neatly). In late April, I made a big move from North Carolina to California. So yes, we have a new address approximately 2600 miles from where we were before. Why, you ask? Too many reasons to list, but suffice to say that, for my son, there is improved access to healthcare here. And about a week after we hit the ground in our new home state, he tested that access with emergency surgery to replace his pacemaker, a week-long hospitalization, and at least one visit per week for follow-up (and still going). Seriously. The moving truck had not even shown up yet with all our stuff. For my daughter, there is access to better education, exposure to more diversity, and equal rights for the beautiful young woman she is growing into everyday. Additionally, my partner needed to finish her last internship in clinical psychology, right here where she started years ago in Sacramento. And me? Well, I just needed to make all those above-mentioned things happen. And I did.

Now onto the "Shakin'" part of this post, right? Where to begin. First, a big move like that isn't easy. I took a leap of faith that all would be well. I maintain that faith that it still will be. But I haven't found that full-time job yet that I need so much. Not just for the money, but for my state of mind, to fulfill my sense of purpose (you remember, affecting social change, and all that?). I'm working part-time, teaching online.. and it's all-good for the moment (though there will be another post about this, I promise, lol). But when you leave your home, when you leave the only small family you have left... you shake. It's a nervous shake, and it's a bit of a "wtf am I doing???" shake. Sometimes (but certainly not always) it's an "I really need my mom" shake. But I remind myself that my mother lives only in my heart now, no matter where I am, and there is other business to attend to.

And I am not oblivious to the fact that my children shake, too. You should have seen how excited they were to pile into that car and make the cross-country road trip for their new lives in California. This, even though I promised them that it was NOT going to be Hollywood, lol. I patiently prepped them, saying, "I know you're excited now, but after we are there for a week or two, you will begin to hate me. You might hate me for about a year or even longer. But someday...someday, you will thank me." Again, I'm taking a leap of faith that they will. That all will turn out well. But NC was their home, too. They miss their friends, their family, their schools, the security of all that. "You will make new friends," I tell them.

But here's the thing... and this is what you were expecting, right? I mean, hey, it's a Chronic Sorrow blog after all. My daughter actually is making new friends. My son is not. She's developing typically. And though I still worry, like all moms do, I am consoled by the fact that this move is nothing that a million other children like her haven't gone through. She will be fine. But my son.... He has made acquaintances, who we (for a brief moment) had hoped might become friends. Yet they are all tiring of him already, as I knew that they would. I can't blame them. He is exhausting. Our attempts to enroll him in the School for the Deaf, for which he is so ready and excited, are being thwarted (though I haven't had the heart to tell him so yet as this may very well put him over the edge).  I've tried connecting him with other teens who have CHARGE on facebook, and even that has not worked. I got him hooked up with a videophone just a month ago, and already I'm receiving calls about how much he is "bothering" everyone. Other than church on Sundays, of his own freewill, and some outings here and there, he has been in a prison all summer. This is not living. And I fear now the prison he is in is getting even smaller. The social-emotional delays, I know, are the result of the lack of social opportunities throughout his entire life. Now, as he moves into young adulthood, the psychological damage of these years of isolation is becoming more and more apparent. It's absolutely - heartbreaking. To say the least.

So I could wallow, I guess ... let myself be consumed by the sadness of it all. But as research shows us, this is not what persons with chronic sorrow do. We keep moving, even when we are shaking.