Embracing Chaos

                 

May 3rd, 2025 – story starts chosen from his stash by the author, to share with you:

The rain pounding took their breath away, as they rowed on the lake for the big cabin.  Our mom is going to kill us.
The little dog whined under the seat. Thunder howled. The older boy was careful not to look down at the lake weeds. He kept his eyes in the sky. The little boy moved closer to his brother.

Then hail pounded down on them. The bigger boy cried out We’ve got to get home!
The thunder roared under the clouds. Lightning flashed on the water.

When the stars align, when I get time and energy and I remember to, I offer to support Owen for a stint of creative writing. I feel virtuous for doing so. Then I struggle with resentfulness if it doesn’t work. But only if Owen is able to overcome his artist blocks & anxiety within and his body dysregulation without will he be able to get into the creative process. It is definitely worth the effort. I am usually surprised at what hits the computer screen.

The support of another artist is at the least complex, at worst traumatic. I think of Mozart’s father.  I think of Ethel Merman in the role of the overpowering stage mom, belting out “I had a dream, a dream about you baby. It’s gonna come true…”  My own mother’s efforts at support were mostly perceived by me as uncomfortable and invasive. I often think of my resistance to her suggestions as I bumble along trying to encourage and support Owen’s artistic communication, while always respecting and following Owen’s lead.

April 17, 2025

The sunny day that he hoped for was outside and he was inside and even opened the window and excited said, “It is gorgeous out.”. But he couldn’t get out of going to school. He was not so wild, not enough to really run away. But given his really terrible home, kind of couldn’t help thinking about how.

The other reason he hadn’t gone out was his quiet fear that the sun touching his skin would damage the burn scars on his head.