Whats your drug?

 I talk to myself.  More and more these days.  I'm trying Vyvanse as a solution to a problem that I've managed in other ways.  Do I have adhd?  I don't know.  Do I have a problem?  I don't think so....

When I was in university, some exams I needed to study for.  I needed to study for them, but I couldn't.  My table was a mess, I didn't have everything in the right place.  Sometimes I'd call Branda Card, (Sister Card) and ask to study at their house.  I needed to drive across the city to another place where there was urgency, and why was I needing that space, and it became urgent that I do my work.  Otherwise why was I imposing on others.

The event, and hundreds like it tell me that the urgency is the only way to drive m productivity.  Without fear there is no action for me.

I've solved my problems in any creative fashion that worked for me.  Or I didn't solve them.  I hear that other people  can just sit down and do their work.  For me, if there isn't pressure there isn't action.

When I wrote my funeral words I didn't know that they'd stay with  me.  I cycle to confederation park by myself ,and I cry.  I swim in the pool and my thoughts pass back and forth, and while I talk to myself, or I talk to important people that are gone, I cry.

What is my drug?  I think that it is, or that it will begin to be the journey.  I should be moving the lot 4 dream forward.  Days spent away from my heart are just days spent.  There is no loss with that.  Every day we will learn, and every day we will grow.  An interesting though, I heard that we can ignore purpose when we are fully engaged in the process.  What is the point?  Where are we going?  Well, if you are so focused on the mechanics of today you are much more able to ignore the 'why' of it all.  The journey is the point, not the destination.  I don't say this to claim that the destination is immaterial.  I say it to point out that the destination is only under our control if we lift our eyes up out of the mechanics of today.  The journey is my drug.  I choose to envelop myself in the mechanics of our lives.

This past few days Michael does difficult growing by being challenged in math and logic.  It is the new "reading".  We fought and worked and cried over reading.  Now reading for him is a joy and a comfort, and a power.  His power is now his own, and I did help.  I didn't do it for him or to him, but without my help it might not be.

What are my powers?  Was I given them by a woman driving back and forth to basketball with no radio because we 'talk in the car'.  Was it by having someone that was so powerful watching over me but not telling me what to do.  I'm shaking and unable to type just thinking about that question.  "Mom, how did you not tell me what to do when I was in trouble.  How were you so confident and safe and around while I was making mistakes.  Why didn't you tell me what to do while I was making mistakes."  I can't even remember the question that I asked her now.  All I know is that in our last interactions she told me that she was scared and in those last seconds of her life it changed my life.  "I was scared".  I never knew it.  I never even imagined it possible.

She'll never be gone, because I talk to her all of the time.  I can't climb into bed with her anymore and have her scratch my back but I can still talk to her while I'm swimming or walking or cycling.  I talk to her often.  I wonder if she did the same with her most important person.  Probably talking to Doral Pilling in her quiet times, but probably also Wyora.

This took a turn for the worse.

My point, all of the children were outside with their magnifying glasses.  Even with the low Calgary sun shinning in our chilly march spring, they could still find ways to burn things.  What did Michael decide to burn into his cardboard?  Well, you don't really know how much of an imprint you put onto people.  Or maybe you do know.

Dad *heart*.  I'm enjoying the journey.  I'll make sure to help the small ones like I was helped when I was the small one.

Michaels most recent school project was to answer in a website:  what is it to be human.

https://sites.google.com/educbe.ca/michael/home

My answer is that it is to give back as much as you were given.  We grow through the generations but only if we remember to give back as much or more.  I've been given much so I too much give.  That's a primary song for the end of my post.

I should scratch his back a little more often.

.Update on this post, and tears, and not being able to talk about her without crying.  I sucked those tears back up into my eye.  It's fine now.  No problem.  Just stopped thinking about it.