A few weeks ago I wrote about having Wallace tested for a whole slew of behavioral and learning differences/disabilities.
This has dragged on longer because of Hurricane Matthew, so I’m meeting with the psychologist this afternoon. I am a hot anxious disaster right now. I’ve been listening to Violent Femmes on repeat for the past two days — my go-to stress jams.
Gil has been slow to warm to the reality that Wallace truly IS having trouble at school, likely because Gil also has dyslexia. His mom dropped that bomb back in September when she came for his birthday, along with the fact that she and Gil’s dad elected to keep this information from Gil and his teachers for…his entire life.
Yeah. S0, Gil got his results on his 43rd birthday.
Thanks, Mom. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard him refer to himself as “a fucked-up dumb-ass” since his mom dropped the news.
I somewhat relate and imagine that Gil feels a bit like I did when I learned at age 31 that I had ADHD. There was a mourning of what I knew, and I went through the gamut of emotions. There were a lot of “what ifs” and “if only I’d knowns.”
So after Marie left and we were alone with this “news,” I asked Gil what his thoughts were now in regards to our children. Did he feel more convinced that we need to do this testing to determine the best way to help them? (We’re doing the testing whether he wants to or not, but I was curious as to his thoughts on all of it after this new information.)
He basically said that now he “knows they have it” and doesn’t see the point in spending a ton of money on what we know.
I asked if he would like to go with me when we get the results.
He said that he would.
Part of me felt like this was a step in the right direction; the other part wasn’t so sure.
I gave him the pertinent details, and he agreed to show up. With Gil though, I don’t believe it until he’s sitting in the office. We’ve done this drill many times. He is king of something suddenly came up.
Last week was especially busy. We’re still putting our lives back together after evacuating and playing catch-up at school and work.
During the busyness I began having second thoughts about whether I really wanted Gil to join me for this test results appointment. He can be so difficult when it comes to therapy, mental health, or what he calls “soft sciences.” To say it is not his thing is a massive understatement.
I began waking up during the night with all this anxiety about all of it. So I started mediating anytime I’d wake up.
During the day if it popped into my head, my mantra became, “I’m turning this over.” “It will work out as it needs to work out.”
And yes, I prayed. “I’m giving this to you, God.”
In other words, ruminating and examining it over and over was only making me a nervous wreck. I had to wash my hands of it.
So this past Friday, Gil called from work and asked what time the appointment was. When I told him, he said, “Did you remember that I have jury duty that day? I don’t know that I’ll be done in time to make the appointment.” I had completely forgotten that he had jury duty.
Again, I repeated my mantra, “I’m turning this over.” In other words, it’s yours, Universe, God, etc. Yes, I’m a bit new-agey like that. I believe in something bigger than myself, but I’m not exactly attached to absolutes and dogma.
I woke up this morning with a lot of anxiety about all of this — what we’re going to learn, what I’m going to do with this knowledge, fear that we might not learn anything helpful and Gil will be right — we’ve wasted time and money and gained nothing.
So I meditated. I started to nap but then decided meditating might be better. I couldn’t get comfortable, so I lay down on the floor and breathed in and out for thirty minutes.
When I was done I checked my phone and had a message from Gil.
“I won’t be done until 4:30, so I’m not going to make the appointment.”
And there it is. My answer.
On one hand I’m not happy. I would like a partner to help navigate some of this. At the same time, I’m relieved. I honestly think it has worked out exactly as it is supposed to. This is a situation I’m going to be handling alone either way, and very likely, having Gil there would make me less pushy. I know when I’m alone, I’ll ask the right questions, whereas in the past, Gil just wants to get in and get out, and I can sense his edginess, and end up feeling rushed. I think it’s better this way.
And then we can all go trick-or-treating! Happy Halloween! Thank you for letting me air that out. Peace, love, and way too many KitKats, my friends. I hope to be back with less heavy posts in the very near future!