CHANGE

Dan and I are usually on the same page about things. Or, maybe not the same page, but at least on the same chapter. I think that’s how we’ve managed to hold things together for the last 25 years. We want the same things out of life. We treasure our family and friends and value experiences over things (although we like some of our things too). We’ve agreed on how and where we wanted to raise our kids and, when Jack got sick, we never fought about how we wanted to face those challenges. If you’ve ever made life and death decisions when it comes to your children, you know this is huge.

 

One thing where we differ completely is how we face CHANGE. Dan waits until the CHANGE is upon us and then calmly adapts and sometimes even politely welcomes it to the family. I frantically tear apart every side of of any pending CHANGE for months — thinking that if I fully understand every inch of it, I will somehow not give it any power. I know this sounds crazy, but I even consider the worst case scenario and visualize what it would feel like. I guess I’ve learned the hard way that sometimes the worst case scenario can happen.

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Crazy vs Calm

So that’s what I’ve been doing for the last six months. I’ve been spending a huge amount of time and energy focusing on all the CHANGES our family is facing – the biggest being Anna heading off to college. I’ve been picturing a painfully quiet house and the three of us non-college-bound Torreys spending all of our time just counting days between Anna visits.

My gephyrophobia (fear of bridges) was an unwelcome result of my growing anxiety. The good news is that it did encourage me to seek some outside help – books, meditation and a wonderful therapist who’s helped me more calmly face the CHANGES that are approaching and stop referring to myself using words like pathetic, weak, broken and nuts. A few weeks ago, I realized I was no longer waking up in the middle of the night or crying out of nowhere or not being able to cross a bridge without having a nervous breakdown.

Huge relief.

We’re now six weeks away from Anna heading off to college. We’ve gotten through prom and graduation and even Beach Week (Anna and her pals at the beach with nothing but their phones linking them to their parents — THAT was not an easy thing for this parent). Anna and I have been busy choosing first semester classes and important things like duvet covers and under-bed storage. Every time we start a new project I take a deep breath and remind myself that this is a big step, but Anna is ready. We are all ready.

I’ve got to say – there hasn’t been nearly the amount of tears that I had expected. I think Anna was even a little surprised that I managed an entire trip to Bed and Bath without so much as a quiet, “Please don’t goooooooooo!”

I know It’s going to be hard. Getting back into the car next month after dropping off Anna, with just our beautiful boy in the backseat, is going to feel strange. I’m sure I will go through my share of tissues for a while, but when I think about drop off now, mostly I’m so darn excited for our girl as she marches towards her dreams.

Now that I feel better, my focus is on Dan. I’m grateful that he doesn’t share my approach to facing CHANGE. I can’t imagine what it would be like if the two of us were freaking out for the last six months, but I hope he’s ready for all this. Is he prepared for his Jeopardy partner to be 200 miles away? Is he okay with watching sports with Jack and I barley pretending to be interested? What’s he going to do without live-in tech support?

Here I go. NOW I have something else to worry about. Dan. And then there is Jack . . .
My therapist will be happy to know she still has a loyal client.

Love, Jess

maybe it’s not really a problem.

Eleven years ago today we heard the word Adrenoleukodystrophy for the first time. Part of me feels like it was yesterday and part of me has trouble remembering life before that day.

Our family has certainly been through our share of challenges during the last eleven years. It’s one of the reasons that I’ve been surprised that I’m finding it so difficult to deal with the relatively small challenges we are facing these days – Anna preparing to head off to college, friends moving, an oil tank reeking havoc in our front lawn, deciding when/where to move, our rat-dog’s new haircut. My body didn’t betray me eleven years ago when our challenges were grave, why now? I have my theories that I won’t bore you with, but for now I’m trying to tackle what I can before I get swallowed whole.

My first test was last Friday. I spent a week preparing for a two mile drive – The Delaware Memorial Bridge. Trying to explain my new fear of bridges is impossible. There’s nothing rational about my explanations and it’s often made worse because I walk away from an explanation feeling like I sound not just fearful, but kinda crazy. Then, I worry about being crazy and what people must think . . .

I was dreading the drive to Baltimore and the huge bridge I would be facing, so when Jack and I got in the car on Friday I had a post-it note with a magic number firmly stuck to the dashboard. I was planning to call a “bridge escort”. I was not going to judge myself for it. It was the right decision. Safe and responsible.

The drive was going smoothly and I was relaxed thanks to my “safe and responsible” decision. Jack and I listened to good music and I caught up on some phone calls. I was on the phone with Mymom when suddenly I was faced with the bridge directly in front of me. It came out of nowhere. I was in the middle lane and frantically trying to figure out how I could pull over, “Mom, I’m here. I don’t know what to do. Oh my GOD – I’m ooooooonnnnnn the BRIDGE!!!”

Mymom was in the delivery room when I delivered both Jack and Anna and I swear she used the same words with me on Friday, “You can do this Tates. Keep your eyes on the prize. Just keep going. You’re almost there.”

By the time I reached the other side of the bridge I was soaked with perspiration, but I had done it. I felt overwhelmingly exhilarated. Adrenaline and pride is a great combination (and knowing at almost 50, Mymom can still be my cheerleader is pretty awesome too).

After a lovely weekend at Hopkins, I insisted on driving home so that I could face the two miles again. This time I managed to keep a decent speed and didn’t even sweat through my shirt. I can’t say that I’ve conquered my fear of bridges, but I’m not going to let a bridge stop me from moving forward – and certainly not stop me from visiting my girl next year.

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Sounds silly, but I do feel like I’ve taken a huge step forward. Last Thursday a father of one of Jack’s classmates said something to me that’s been helping, “If you can fix it, it’s not really a problem.”

So simple and just what I needed to hear. There’s plenty in our lives that we can’t fix and I no longer want to give strength to the crap we can. A weekend at Hopkins confirmed that it’s going to be a great place for Anna and it’s not too far – and the bridge won’t kill me. The oil tank is gone and our yard is getting fixed soon (money and time won’t destroy us). We are planning fun trips with our friends who are moving. We are prepping our house so that we can move when we are ready (months, years, who knows, but we are in control). Even Finn is working on growing his hair. If we can fix it, it’s not really a problem.

Eleven years ago I never imagined that we’d be living this life, but here we are. We can’t fix everything, but we will do what we can and take one bridge at a time.

Love, Jess