Monday, August 29, 2016
I was going to title this writing something about the processing of a turning point. Assuming, of course, that what I am about to describe actually is such a thing, and not just another example from a long list of head-jammed-in-my-butthole moments that decorate the landscape of my existence over the past several months.
How does one begin to even talk about all that time spent away? If ever I was plagued by self-doubt, fear, uncertainty...that time has been defined by my silence here. I don't know how to dig out of this hole I find myself in...uh, ew... no pun intended...but as a person who likes to write, as a father, family man, human race affiliate...I need to. I'm so checked out of everything. From everyone.
There are many things that require explanation, backstory. You know, TMI. I'm good at that if nothing else.
The only reason I don't dive in right now is because I want to try for once to get to the point and be done. The rest, I hope, sorts itself out in my head later as I go along. If I decide to go along. With this thing I mean.
Oh yeah...the point.
I completely, totally and utterly forgot Bennett's surgical anniversary on August 27th.
Driving this point home a little for anyone unfamiliar...in 2009 my son Bennett, at 21 months or so of age, had a big chunk of his brain gouged out to remove a Stage II Oligoastrocytoma. That's a tumor to all us lay-people. That year (and every year since) I've had an anxiety build-up leading towards the 27th, and the day itself has always been difficult for me. Defined by emotions uncontrolled. This year, everything was completely forgotten.
The only reason I remembered at all was because at the request of a good friend I've been checking in on Facebook a little lately and I saw one of those "Memories" flashbacky things they do, which was a link to a post I wrote here a year or two ago about Bennett's surgery.
After the shock wore off I found myself in an unforgiving circle of thought, wondering why I forgot. I am trying to figure it out still, especially since it isn't like he has moved on from being a severely disabled person. It isn't like our family isn't a shattered, awful mess because of what happened to him.
Like I said up top...I'm processing...but I don't think that this is necessarily a bad thing or a good thing
In fact, it might just be a thing. But it might be just the thing I've been looking to hang my hat on, in a psychological, philosophical and spiritual sense, for a while.
I'll have to let you know.