September 24

This week I spoke with the SLP who works with Sarah at school. She asked me if there were certain words or sounds that Sarah had trouble with. I put the question to the SR team and G wrote back with the following response. It is so wonderful I just want to eat it. 

"I don't consider my work with Sarah's speech from a sound/phonological perspective.  When I approach Sarah, it's from a whole-phrase intelligibility perspective.  I don't really care if she's a bit slushy on certain sounds...and truth be told, her phonemic repertoire is complete, though she can have trouble with 4+ syllable words.  Ultimately, the question is, "Did I just understand what she said?"  If I did, I just answer her and continue forward with the interaction.  (Very Son-Rise, but also very functional whole-language whole-child based.)

If and when Sarah's speech is notably unintelligible, I generally notice that she's either sick and/or tired and/or contending with some in-body imbalance.  The key then, to some extent, is to NOT stress her out with additional pressure.  Rather, I try to build fun and laughter, which generally gets her system a bit more in balance and allows her to be more precise and deliberate in her motor speech patterns.

Now, if you pressed me, "No really, what words would you work on?"  I'd say this...nerdy words.  She's fine with the basic vocabulary and speech of her peers.  But she often becomes enamored with very specific, fringe-like vocabulary that she learns across the diversity of her days.  And she loves vocabulary...both as a wordy (I think she is that) but also a person who loves interacting with others and kind-of amazing them or getting them to laugh or react.  So, I might organize all of those 4+ syllable words and perhaps just have fun saying them more repeatedly and deliberately."

Have I mentioned how much I love that Sarah is a word nerd? I love that Carl and I (and our whole team) have never dumbed down our speaking to Sarah. We smart-up. We assume she can learn big words. And she can. She does. She loves them. How wonderous! 

This week Sarah read a note all by herself except for the word “items.” The note said, “Please bring one of these items to school tomorrow for show and tell: mirror mittens.” Her verbal clarity was very limited and fuzzy when reading this out loud but I didn’t push that part at all because I figured she was pushing her limit pretty hard already. Still. She can read! I know she has been able to for a while, but sometimes the reality of it startles me.

Sarah also got herself a cup of orange juice completely independently. This involved using a step stool to get a cup and reach the OJ.

Amy has been making incredible strides as well. She had been learning to write and knew how to do many letters but it seems that overnight she really learned to write. She has learned how to write many more letters at school and now she finds books she knows and starts copying the words. The world of writing is cracked wide open for her.

When I take Amy to school I usually go back to the cubby room with her while she puts away her things.  This week she has started dismissing me early. I am to give her a kiss goodbye just after we enter the room and she takes care of all the rest. This new independence is paired with still wanting me to carry her backpack to school and to put her shoes on for her. I figure it makes sense that she still wants me to take care of her some of the time, especially as she is stretching her wings in new ways.

I had a really great week at work. I taught twice at the massage school and felt helpful and learned things for myself, as I always do. I have been likening bodies to cars, with ankles/knees/hips as rear wheels and hands/arms as front wheels and the head as the steering wheel. My instructions are to not grip the wheel and to wait for the rear wheels to engage before the front wheels can move. I have also been speaking with students about lengthening in their alignment of joints instead of stacking them, which can sometimes lead people to crunching themselves. I was then wondering if I could do this on a spiritual level. Could I lengthen into my connection with the energy of the universe (or God)? Could I stop gripping the wheel so tightly and wait for my God-rear-wheel-drive to engage before I move forward, keeping myself easy just as I want my students to keep their hands easy? Maybe.

I also feel like my massage work is more effective than ever, in part thanks to all of the work I have been receiving and in part due to reading the new book about fascia that is changing how I think about what is going on in bodies. I love what I do so very much. I love giving massages and I love teaching massage students how to use themselves more effectively. I am so so so blessed to love my jobs so much.

Then there was my Jenny-Rise session. Some trigger points are so intense that my eyes tear. Sometimes though there is also a big deep cry attached. When I got off the table on Thursday I had big deep crying rather immediately. When the tears were starting when I was still on the table I was trying to not have them because I was judging myself as crying too often with these sessions, whether in big or small ways. Who said there was a limit? I did apparently. I do that all the time, especially with crying. I somehow think that some amount and frequency is ok but I shouldn’t go beyond it. What the #%*(%Y^?? Thursday I realized more fully that the emotions stuck in the trigger points are perhaps all the sad or scared or angry emotions that I had at some point and then judged and told myself not to have or not to have as largely or as long. Now that I notice my judging pattern, holy heck it is everywhere and all the time! Omnipresent. Egad! It is just as frequent as my jaw tightening pattern. They are both so integral to my being that they are like breathing. Living in a moment without judging myself and/or without tightening my face feels so strange and wobbly. I don’t know what to do with myself. I feel like a naked turtle. This is uncharted territory. I’m excited to explore this new land, however raw and wobbly I am. I am thinking of Son-Rising my efforts a bit, remembering to celebrate hugely the fact that I can take off my shell for even a tiny moment.

On Friday Sarah’s school ended early. We had several lovely moments hanging out together that afternoon, laughing heartily while making sparkly eye contact. One of the funniest parts was when she got a tissue to clean some of her saliva off of my face. She just continued to pretend spitting on me and cleaning me. Luckily there was no actual purposeful spitting.  

The other unforeseen excitement on Friday was that Sarah’s palate expander came out. It is not supposed to do that. The orthodontist will have to make a new one because the part that goes around one of Sarah’s teeth is smushed and broken, perhaps from her chewing it when it came down from it’s mooring and before her teachers realized what had happened. 

Lots of love to all of you.

September 17

How are these weeks only a week long? Since when has a week always been so densely packed with experiences?

When Amy and I were playing a game of Bingo, Sarah came in and as she sat down she said, “where’s my board?” and then proceeded to play a game with us. I love that she asked about her board. I feel like that indicates another level of being engaged and wanting to be engaged. WOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I love how these tiny moments keep happening.

When Sarah and I walked to get Amy from school on Tuesday Sarah wanted me to carry her (not abnormal) and I started giving her lots of kisses. She kept presenting her arm and then her cheek for kisses and seemed to be loving it. I was too. She also said hi to three strangers. They didn’t hear her or didn’t know she was talking to them, but it was still awesome, especially given that one of them was a kid.

I was marveling recently at how different my children are in ways that serve us and them very well. Amy has always learned most things, such as talking and writing, easily. She has also hated to be corrected and hates to mess up. Sarah has always needed a lot of practice with such skills, to put it mildly. Fortunately, Sarah doesn’t mind being corrected or helped or asked to try again about a million times. Is this just a fortunate character trait? Is it because of how we Son-Rised it up so much around her language learning at the beginning? Whatever it is, I’ll take it.

Tuesday was Roald Dahl’s 100th birthday (if he was still alive) and Amy’s school allowed kids to dress up as favorite characters. I was not going to miss this opportunity! Amy went as Sophie and I went as the BFG. It was a long walk in my heels. I think for Halloween I need a different shoe solution. My thighs are still sore.

I devoured Glennon Doyle Melton’s Love Warrior. I highly recommend it, along with Carry On, Warrior. She is a beautiful, raw-honest truth-teller. I LOVE HER. I love her writing and her wisdom. I love her realness. She talks about the different ways in which people tell the truth about their experience of life and how hard life is for them. Some people tell the truth through eating disorders or addictions. They may not find words to express their truth, but they express it through their bodies and actions and struggles. I feel like I tell the truth in my muscles and with my headaches. The truth that along with all the amazing gorgeousness of the blessings of my life, that sometimes things feel HARD. That sometimes I can feel like the challenge of getting the children to do what I want them to do at a given moment can feel so impossible that I just want to lie down and not even try. The goal may be as simple as a bath, but it can sometimes feel insurmountable. Maybe some of the truth is how hard I’ve tried to be perfect and have people like me. Some of the truth is how hard things sometimes felt throughout school when faced with a dining hall and where to sit. That was way too impossibly scary. There are so many hard moments, whether large or small, when I have muscled on. Because that is really what most of us to do accomplish life. That is the beautiful bravery of it all. Sometimes it is crazy big brave actions and sometimes it may seem small and trivial on the outside but it is momentously huge on the inside. As I look back on so many of my muscling-on moments I am finding more compassion for my younger self (younger by years or by a day) and being able to think, “oh, wow, that felt really hard and I didn’t let myself fully acknowledge my feelings at the time."

During my Jenny-Rise sessions I am able to listen to what my body is telling me more clearly than I can the rest of the time. I also feel like I’m not alone in needing to fix it. I so often want to do things myself and think I should be able to fix all my tight spots myself. It is a relief to have someone find the tiniest trigger points in the deepest spots that feel like they have been mouldering for years. It hurts to have them worked on but it is such a good hurt where I feel like, “oh, thank God someone is finally pressing there!” It’s not just the trigger points. I feel like I have someone shining a flashlight for me as I look through the emotional trash. He is just there holding a safe space for my journey. I am blessed to have multiple people, especially my mom and Carl, who accompany me frequently with a safe space and a flashlight. Now J helps me find the answers (and questions) that have been hiding in plain sight in my body for all these years. What a wonderful Jenny-Rise team. 

It is easy to always put off some self-care things, thinking there will be time as soon as all the laundry, dishes, mail, pick-up, emails, etc are done. But why not reverse the order of priority when there is flexibility to do so? Yes, my kitchen is a royal mess and something may be starting to smell funky so I can’t put it off forever. Yes, it would be a gift to myself to have a clean kitchen for a few hours. Yes, sometimes that is the answer. But. Sometimes it is important to rest first, cry first, breathe first, get a Jenny-Rise session first. I have been squeezing those things out of my schedule for so many years. I know I do make time for them sometimes. But not as regularly and fully as the other mundane items. It is time to stop squeezing myself and start squeezing the time spent doing dishes. When I get to the end, will I remember that I always had a tidy kitchen and house (well, no, because I rarely do) or will I remember all the moments of finding deep, peaceful truth when I took the time to just be? 

In wanting to just be and rest, sometimes I feel annoyed at the presence and neediness of my dearly beloved small people. Sometimes the answer is actually to pull them in closer. If I am trying to not be with them but we are all co-existing in the same space, then sometimes the answer is to be more fully with them. Sometimes the answer is tv so I can go hide. But sometimes the answer is to hold them close and really be 100% with them. This morning I was feeling royally annoyed and just wanting to be alone to rest and rest and rest. They asked to go to the basement. Instead of just saying yes and opening the door, I pulled Amy onto my lap and asked her how I would survive without her? I hammed it up. Amy loved it. Sarah climbed on me too. They both loved me pining for them using the same words they do when I am going out. After much snuggling and playing I did let them into the basement. It felt so good to reconnect with them and fill all of our snuggle tanks. I even then had energy to clean a room (the easiest, least messy room). 

I send you all love, safe spaces, and flashlights.

September 11

Once again, this past week has contained a lifetime of fullness.

On Monday Carl cleared a space next to our house that was full of a falling-down shed roof and various small trees. Sarah helped move the small trees to the Bagster, dragging each tree several feet all by herself. She truly was an amazing helper.

I had a great SR session on Thursday. For part of it we were drawing on the white board. I drew a house. She said, “home.” I wrote “home.” She erased the “ho.” I said, “that spells ‘me.’” She had the biggest grin of delight and we played with that scenario for many more minutes. She started writing “home” herself and then erasing the “ho” and saying “that spells me!”

Sarah did the snap and zipper on her pants all by herself!!!!! Another time when she had trouble, she came to find me to ask for help! Another time she brought me a book and asked me to read it to her!!

Sarah’s school did a speech/language evaluation (that I sanctioned) and they want her to receive services (I agree that this makes sense). The reason they give somehow feels glass-half-empty instead of noticing how far she has come (which they don’t know). I know that when they did the evaluation they might not have experienced her full, connected, sparkly, clear self. I know we still have things to help her with. But I hate the word deficit. Even though I yell sometimes at my sweet, perfect Sarah, no-one else is allowed to judge or use words like “deficit.” I know they probably have to write things in certain ways to get funding and coverage for sessions with her. But still. This is the wording for the reason for enrollment: “Sarah experiences difficulty with understanding and using vocabulary, concepts, sentence forms, and social language. Deficits in these areas can affect Sarah’s ability to answer questions, follow directions, and use language in class and social situations.” I would like to change this to, “Sarah is a sparkly, exuberant, delightful child who needs help and support as she continues to grow in her use of language in various situations. We would like to provide her with the support and encouragement she needs to help her flourish to her utmost ability.”

I was able to make suggestions towards the IEP that her main teacher will write. Here is an example of one of my suggestions, "Sarah will enjoy spending time reading books, including those with words she doesn’t know, seeking out help when needed. She will sound out new words with independent motivation or with easy participation when encouraged. The majority of the time, she will independently begin reading when it is the time to read and/or when she has free time.” Because here is the thing: I do not care if she can read perfectly or at age level or when she progresses. I care about her enjoying reading and the process of learning and being with others in a learning environment. Period. All of my suggestions for all of the categories are about her enjoying her experience. I am humbled by how often I do not help her enjoy her experience at home, but I do know that my intentions and heart are pointed in a good direction, even if I sometimes hit pot holes.

My Jenny-Rise bodywork session on Friday had some gentle deep work on my neck. When I got off the table I had tons of tears. I hadn’t expected them. I hadn’t felt them filling up at the dam. J suggested that I take time to breath for a few minutes before leaving the room because the work had been so deep. I still didn’t know I was so full of tears. And then I got off the table and felt like I needed to cry deeply for a few hours. I took a few minutes then and found more time later.  With these sessions, I feel like I am able to take down walls that I don’t know I have built but then it is such a naked, vulnerable, wall-less place after, at least for as long as I can keep it that way. I love not having the walls, even if it feels new and a bit scary. My mom shared that sometimes when she feels so worn-out with tears that it is sometimes an indication that there are more tears. She was so right. After really deep crying about things that I thought I had finished being sad about (such as the incredibly loving and amazing Son-Rise teacher William dying) I did feel more like myself and not so worn-out or vulnerable. Are these feelings really sitting in my muscles and fascia? It feels that way. I so want to move through all of this, unearthing everything until my headache beast dissolves into nothingness.

My present aim is to be ok with all of me in my me-ness. I sometimes assure other people in my life that the reason I seek them out is for them to be themselves, not anyone else. If I wanted someone else I would go to someone else. I strive so much to grow and learn and change that sometimes I don’t give myself room to be where I am, as if I can’t even be imperfect correctly. So, my first step is to notice whenever I am judging myself and then to be ok with the fact that I am judging myself and with whatever it is that I am judging. That’s all. That is plenty.

May we all notice our sparkly amazing selves, whether or not we need support in any given area. There are no deficits; there are just places where we might benefit from help.

September 5

I have moved through so many different emotions and thoughts this week it is hard to contain them in my head. I don’t feel particularly Son-Risey or enlightened, but in the spirit of sharing my weeks in all honesty, here are some of my experiences.

This week doing the pick-up at Sarah’s school seemed so easy it is hard to believe I was so stressed about it a week ago. It probably helps that I fully understand it now and that it isn’t quite so unbearably hot.

Sarah had a great week. The combined thinking and creativity on the part of her teachers and me helped us implement small but helpful changes to assist her when she gets stressed. I suggested that they give her drinks of water more often and they also started offering her small snacks more frequently. One teacher suggested that when she was struggling she could wear her headphones and listen to music for a few minutes. I bought copies of some of her favorite books and sent them in so she can read them when she needs a break. 

On the drive home one day I gave Sarah a carrot. She started tapping it against the window. I asked what she was doing. “Mom, I’m making thunder on the window with a carrot!” Obviously. I loved it!

After a month long hiatus from my Jenny-Rise bodywork plan due to scheduling complications, I am back in action and it has been beyond wonderful! Sometimes I can think I am imagining how helpful it is and that I must be making it up. No. I’m not. It really is that helpful. I sometimes feel as if some of my cells are running around with crazy haywire energy and when I see J. for a bodywork session then they all settle into peaceful alignment. I had a session on Tuesday and when I woke up Wednesday morning I was able to remember how enjoyable it can be to do things like groceries and chores because it is through these actions that I can express my love for my dear family. I can pack lunches with love. I loved the drive to Sarah’s school because I knew I was taking her to a welcoming and wonderful place. I can fold laundry and wash dishes with love, peace, and enjoyment. What a relief to remember these perspectives again. They had gotten lost in my worry about doing everything right and being all caught up on everything (as if that is actually a thing that one can achieve!) My sense of burden shifted to a sense of opportunity.

After my session with J. on Thursday I felt like I was just so full of love and light and joy that my skin could just burst away and I would shine light everywhere and heal the world. In the evening I then followed J.’s suggestion to put hot stones (specially designed for massage treatments) along my right psoas muscle. Since I didn’t have a client that night but I had a sitter, I was my own client and borrowed a friend’s stones. Lying on my table with the stones along my psoas path and thinking about what emotions and fears were sitting in there, I realized how scared I am on a deep muscular level that if I am really me then people will leave. Saying it makes is so clear that this isn’t true because I know I have deep and continuing love and support from people who know me incredibly well, foibles and all. I feel like I am picking up logs and shedding light where there hasn’t been any, noticing feelings and beliefs that I didn’t know were there so I can let them go, because once they hit the light of consciousness they can lose their power. I had a good deep cry. I also realized how much of a pattern of fear I have had in new situations, starting at least in first grade, being refreshed with a new school in seventh grade, and getting a mammoth surge with college, which is the year I started getting cluster headaches. I love love love noticing these things. I feel such hope that I can clear these musty closets of old fear and thus shrink my cluster beast until it is just a dust bunny to blow away in the wind.

On Friday I had a great talk with M., my Sarah-Rise consultant. This was possibly the last official consultation because even though I still run a part-time program (Sarah gets 6 hours of SR room time a week), I feel like we are in a very different place. It is as if we have collectively graduated. M. has been so immensely helpful over the years and it was wonderful just to share how amazing everything was feeling.

Then I seemed to lose all my good thoughts and new realizations while I slept Friday night.

Saturday morning I felt overwhelmed and grumpy and tight and controlling as I thought about all that had to happen to prepare for camping. I then judged myself royally for these feelings because they were so drastically different from when I felt like a being of light and then somehow because of the difference I felt like the wonderfulness meant less or was less true. Talking with Carl helped me be gentler with myself and perhaps allow it to all be there and all be ok. Overall camping actually went really well and I can even contemplate doing a two-night trip in the future, where so far we have limited our camping-with-kids to just one night. Looking at the fire Saturday night as it smoldered and light escaped through a crack, I felt like I was seeing me and how it has felt with the light just wanting to get out. This noticing led to tears as I found compassion for my frustrations and tight spots. I also noticed how often I frame things around worrying that I am not enough or too much. If I am super busy then I am concerned that I am doing too much and also am not doing a good enough job at relaxing. If I have a super relaxing and restorative self-care day then I worry that that was waaaaay too indulgent and I really need to pull my load. There is not much room to just be me with variability and humanness. Time to give all of that some more thought and notice that I am the one making the rules and metrics. Yes, there is plenty of societal influence but I am the one judging me.

Today has felt rough, rough, rough with a side of rough. My self judgement has been huge, my frustration with the whining of the kids has been immense, I accidentally in my anger put a plate down a bit too hard and it shattered all over everything everywhere in the kitchen, I felt terribly humbled, I felt like a terrible mom and a needy wife. I felt like I had nothing to write because I have nothing figured out and I have never grown or changed or learned anything. With all of this, thank goodness for Carl being an amazing, steadfast, loving, thoughtful, and kind everything. Honestly. I have so many times over the years when I marvel that he is still here by my terribly imperfect and tumultuous side. I did at least glimpse the thought that perhaps I could stop marveling and wondering at it and just accept it and feel safe in it (as I truly do on so many levels already) because if he has been here through it all for the past 19 1/2 years, chances are he does actually love being with me. Perhaps my goal can be to start noticing more of the things I do well rather than picking at all the things I see as flawed. My goal for the rest of the day is to soften. Soften into tears and breath. Soften into it being ok if not everything gets done or if I don’t get my way. Soften around the hard edges of my kids not listening, of them fighting with each other, of them wanting things from me all the all the all the all the all the time! See how well I’m softening just with that last sentence? 

I will also remember that inside we are all incredibly gorgeous, if you were to turn the light on. I recently saw a picture of living fascia. Fascia is the connective tissue that is inside each of us around absolutely all parts of us. I had only ever seen dead fascia. Living fascia is the most beautiful fairy clothing of light and gorgeousness ever. At our core this means we are really all beautiful.

Anyway, I wish you all gentleness and ease and time to breathe. May we all remember that even in the tough moments there is still beauty and the easy, wonderful, light-filled moments are still there and true even when we struggle to feel them.