As we are

So here we are, nearly at the end of a very long week, and I don't know what to say to you. Come on, I keep thinking, you have to say something, you have some explaining to do, especially after all the kindness everyone's shown. I mean, really. Some of the things people have written in this last week have brought me to tears, just out of sheer gratitude. Plus maybe that little nervous breakdown I had. But mostly gratitude.

But then it all gets so tiring and messy and I realize that all that really matters, I think, is this:

I will never give up faith that all will be well. I will never give up believing that my child--that all of us, all the ones I love--will find peace. I will always, always love him and I will always be there for him, and I believe that he will be well, that all will be well.

So help me, I should've been a pioneer woman. Except I would've been a really whiney pioneer woman, and all that hand-washing the laundry? Not so much.

So it boils down to this: Last week, for no apparent reason, the Boy suddenly refused to take his medication. Any more. At all. Going off antidepressants cold turkey is not a good thing, and there were Scenes and Incidents. There were tears and thrown objects and kicked doors and smacked walls, and that was just me. There was frightening behavior, there were many calls to many doctors. In the end, no one was hurt, and everyone was hurt. And in the end, I was reminded, again, that the only thing I really have any control over in the world is what I choose to make of my reality. See above.

Maybe it's irrational that I believe in a benevolent God, or the power of love, or the inevitable good. But it's also irrational, in this world, to believe that the sun will keep on showing up every morning. Hell, I believe in plenty of rational things, science and good chocolate and knee boots and all that. But I also believe that, as a wise woman once told me, what we believe eventually consumes us. And here are the things I choose to consume me: love, and peace, and health, and joy, and forgiveness, and faith. And good chocolate.

Thank you, everyone who wrote or commented and who sent good and loving thoughts our way. You are all so incredibly kind and I am so blessed to have so much positive energy coming our way. We're going to be fine, here, and we thank you. Thank you.

[Oh, and by the way, so no one worries unnecessarily--we have a new plan, therapy-wise; the pediatric psychologist has decided to keep the Boy off meds for the time being; and the Ex really came through in this one. And hey! I had a discussion about Freud and I didn't even crack up! Okay, I did, but...well, you know Freud and me.]