A Moment of Despair

Essay

The waves come slowly but quickly gain strength and power. I know what is coming but I am powerless to move. When the largest crashes over me I am held down, gasping for air and wondering if I will survive.

Outward appearances and surface assumptions mask the dark ocean of despair and self-loathing that holds me under in the depths of depression. Instead, many see the blessed life I am fully aware that I have. A beautiful supportive wife and two healthy boys, I am in good health and doing what God has called me to do. It is my family that keeps me fighting for my life. I will not allow the boys to grow up fatherless. But can I survive once they are grown? Focus on the now, you just need to make it through today, I tell myself. Start again tomorrow. Tomorrow could be better. Each day could be better. My family needs me.

I’ve seen death from many angles, and know firsthand the hole and pain it leaves. I have come to understand why people choose suicide but I still feel it is selfish. But right now, I’m not sure how much more I can take. There is relief in the thought, of the torture finally ending, but also the terror of leaving my family. I break into sobs; an awkward sputtering sound escapes my lips. For even here, alone, I hold back. The tears stream down my face but the release is not a complete one.

I spend the rest of the day in a painful funk, doing my best to mask my turmoil from the world. This leaves me exhausted, but one step closer to the end of the day. Then I can escape into my book and then into sleep. With this, there is the promise that tomorrow just might be betterif only a little.

Grand ambitions & wayward dreams

Essay, The Charlotte News

This may not happen to all stay-at-home-parents, but for me, by the time August rolls around my goose is cooked. I have run out of ideas and the energy to get the kids out of the house for an adventure. The boys seem to think that bickering and fighting is a great way to pass the waning days of summer while I stare at the calendar like a kid waiting for his birthday, fantasizing about all that I am going to get done and be able to do once the boys are in school. I know this will be the case because during those long last weeks the days are never ending, just like when I was a kid in school staring out the window of a stuffy classroom.

Before the school year started I made a list of goals, like put the laundry away right away, keep up with the clutter that materializes on every flat surface, have dinner prepped before the boys get home, go paddle boarding, exercise every day. I saw myself doing yoga in a clutter-free house, because the kids were out of it all day and I had all the time in the world.

We are now three weeks into the school year, and my grand ambitions are mostly wayward dreams–even though I’ve been writing out a list of daily tasks each morning and I tell myself I am going to stay focused and get these things done. I do fairly well until high noon and then, due to what is clearly a time paradox which disrupts the space-time continuum, time speeds up and I turn around to see that I need to meet the kids at the bus stop soon. My list is only half finished. I just don’t know where I went wrong. But it is such a nice day outside maybe I’ll go out and lie in the hammock for a bit. I need to take some time for myself anyway. You can’t help others if you can’t help yourself; now, where did I hide those bonbons?

The case for microadventures

Essay, The Charlotte News

Screen Shot 2016-04-26 at 12.58.40 PMWith the sporadic warm weather finally upon us, everyone in the house has begun to grow a bit antsy. We are ready to shed the heavy layers of winter clothing and play outside until the sun casts long shadows across the ground. We daydream about wringing as much adventure out of the following few precious months as we can.

In past years, we’ve talked a good game about all of the things we are going to do over the summer. Then life grabs hold—we don’t write any of our ideas down or schedule them on Erin’s weeks off. We become comfortable in the rhythm we happen to fall into, and excuses come easier than the little extra effort it takes to make an adventurous memory with the boys. Then the summer is gone, and we are left wishing we had done more. This year we are determined not to let this happen.

Alastair Humphreys has bicycled around the world, rowed across the Atlantic Ocean, run 150 miles across the Sahara and much more. Most of us don’t have the time, the finances or the gumption to take on challenges like this. Which is why Alastair came up with the term microadventure. At its heart, a microadventure is simply a way to get people out of their routines, out of their comfort zones and into a wild place. It does not matter what you do, as long as you’re out there.
From a parent’s point of view, I classify a microadventure as anything that is out of the house, out of the yard (unless you’re having a family slumber party there) and outside for an hour or more. Adventure is more attitude than anything else. It will take a little extra effort and some planning on your part. You’ll have to slow down, disconnect and focus on wherever you are at the moment. Let the kids lead the way, but most importantly stoop down, look closer and see the world through their eyes. By doing these things, a simple walk along the edge of a field can reveal an amazing world you never knew existed.

Screen Shot 2016-04-26 at 1.01.19 PMPack a simple dinner and head to your favorite trail for an evening hike. Pack a thermos of hot chocolate and watch the sunset from the water’s edge or the top of a cliff. Anything you can think of can be a microadventure. If you want to turn it up a notch, then I would encourage a mid-week campout at a designated campground or at a suitable spot a short hike from your house or car. After all, the hours between 5 p.m. and 9 a.m. are easy pickings for an adventure.

In next month’s column, I hope to share a longer list of microadventures for the upcoming summer, along with some other nuggets of information. I would love for you to share your ideas and suggestions with me by clicking here. The more ideas and information we have, the easier it will be to plan your next adventure.

Written for The Charlotte News Vol. 58 no. 19 – April 21, 2016

Caleb’s Story

Essay, The Charlotte News

Bully LogoIn the fall of 2014, Caleb, a bright blond-headed boy with inquisitive eyes and a great curiosity for learning, started kindergarten. He loved his teacher, made friends easily and was happy to go to school. Then Caleb began to come home with stories of how Joey was tormenting some of the kids on the playground. One time he told his mom, Rebecca, that Joey pushed Timmy so hard that he split his chin on the concrete, requiring Timmy to get stitches. The stories continued, as did the accusations that the recess attendants spent more time talking among themselves than they did watching the children.

Caleb has never been one to tolerate injustice, and he tried to protect the other kids when he saw them being bullied. This quickly made Caleb the target. The gang would chase after him and yell “Get him!” and Caleb would run and hide. His mom talked to him about not running and hiding and perhaps playing closer to the teachers, but Caleb did not like that idea. He and his friends liked to play by the swings where they had a lot of space to run.

One day while Caleb was climbing the ladder on the jungle gym, Joey started beating him on the head, then he tried to kick Caleb in the face. Rebecca sent a note to the teacher and called the guidance counselor, but only got her voicemail. The next day Caleb’s teacher sat down with Joey, Caleb and another boy to talk about what was going on. The boys refused to sit near Joey out of fear. In the end the teacher made Joey write an apology. The teacher told Rebecca that Joey was often in trouble for this kind of behavior.

The guidance counselor, who worked only a couple of days a week, called back a few days later. She was surprised that Joey was acting like this and said she had not heard of him doing such nasty things. The recess attendants, the counselor stated, said that Caleb had started a group of kids who reported bad behavior to one recess attendant in particular––the attendant claimed that Caleb had a wild imagination and was trying to fulfill a dream of being a superhero. The counselor mentioned that school was almost over but nonetheless she would file a report and talk to Joey’s parents. The rest of the year passed without incident, and Caleb reported that Joey was acting much better. Perhaps, Rebecca hoped, things had taken a turn.

The start of first grade brought the discovery that none of Caleb’s close friends from the previous year were in his class. Caleb’s new friend, Toby, began threatening that if Caleb did not give him his school store money he would not be Caleb’s friend. In another instance he said he would bash Caleb’s face in if he didn’t give him a drawing that Caleb had done. On top of that Caleb was again coming home with stories of Joey and his gang causing terror on the playground.

Once again Rebecca spoke to the teachers and the guidance counselors, and promises were made to keep a closer eye on things. His parents discussed their options and worried about what had happened to the sweet, curious boy they had sent off to kindergarten the year before. Caleb was now quick to lash out or react in anger, he cried more easily, clenched his fist and hit his dad. By Thanksgiving break even extended family members noticed a difference.

The final straw came when Caleb told his parents about how before the break he was hiding in the tires from a boy who was chasing kids around and hitting them with a stick. Eventually the boy found Caleb and hit him on the back a few times before Caleb was able to run away. He lifted his shirt and showed them the faint marks on his back. Rebecca and her husband felt like the school had brushed them off and let them down. Shortly after Thanksgiving they pulled Caleb out of the school.

Vermont Law states that all schools are required to have a bullying and harassment plan in place that is equal to, or more stringent than, the one developed by the state. There is even an advisory committee through the Agency of Education that helps with the setting up of these policies. We cannot just send our children off to school and think that we don’t need to engage them when they get home. We need to be asking questions, look for the subtle clues and listen to what our children have to say.

I fully believe that to some extent situations like this can make a child much stronger and more fully prepared for the toxicity of our current culture. However, we need to know when to step in and pull them back from the ledge before they become part of the problem or, worse yet, decide it is just not worth facing another day.

Written for the Charlotte News