Knock in the Engine and Off the Grid

Tomorrow, Jack and I leave for Colorado to see the Boy. Friday, Jack and I talked to our guide for the weekend, Hector. When the call started, I asked Hector how is was doing, he went through the Four Feelings check -- how are you feeling emotionally, physically, intellectually and spiritually. I had to laugh (more of a nervous laugh), "You mean I can't say 'Fine'?"

Hector led the family wellness weekend for our group. He is a tall, lean, powerful and charismatic guy. This guy is able to connect with people. I wrote to the Boy the Hector reminds me of Obama if Obama taught yoga. I kind of wonder if this is the reason we were assigned to Hector, because I wrote in my letter that he reminds me of Obama. Jack initially thought it might be because Hector and I are both originally from Chicago. Hector said on the call Friday that he is assigned the hard cases and then he laughed. Yeah--who wants to spend the weekend with a separated couple and their messed up kid?

I am supposed to bring a list of the "4 Rs"

• Resentments
• Regrets
• Respect
• Requests

I need to work on this today. Hector said this exercise is done in hospice before people die so they can clear the slate before they pass on. Oy. I get tired thinking about this. Maybe I'll take a bath and ponder. A bath might be a good idea today as I will be off the grid starting Monday morning. No phone, no watch, no running water.

I was talking to one of my colleagues at work about the Boy, wilderness and some of the challenges the Boy has been facing. He's been having meltdowns at camp after about four weeks, which has been hard to hear about. 

"It is like when you have a knock in the engine of your car, and you take it to the mechanic," my friend said. "You don't want them to start the car twenty times and not hear the knock. You want them to hear it so they can fix it."

Part of this weekend will mean hearing the knock, except in a safe and supported environment where everyone--including me--will be coached.

This is going to suck.

I should be optimistic, and say this will be all good. Instead, this is like going into surgery. Sure, in the long run we all will be better for it, but the middle steps are scary as shit. Yes, I am terrified. I know the engine knocks and I want it to get better, but taking it all apart and putting it back together will be hard.

There. I've named my fear. As Hector says, you've got to "Name it to tame it."