Purple Mountain Majesty & Strike That

Yesterday, I drove home from Montana. The drive from Kalispell to St. Regis is the most beautiful drive I have ever taken in my life, and I have been to New Zealand which is amazing. The scenery was breathtaking. I now know where "purple mountain majesty" comes from. I didn't take any pictures because I was driving, but here is a map of my route, in case you want to know. The drive goes along Flathead Lake, through plains and then along a river in the valley between mountains.

My manager had been teasing me that these trips to see the Boy are vacation.

"No, this was not a vacation," I'd say, thinking of the hours of therapy I'd been through.

"You just said you took the most beautiful ride ever! How is that not vacation?"

He has a point.

How do I reconcile the beauty and the pain of this trip, hold both in my hands and heart at the same time? That the Boy is doing better even though he has a long way to go before he is functional? That I love him even though Saturday he ignored me which pissed me off and made me feel like I was an inadequate parent? Today, I sent a message to my friends I met at the parents weeks for the Boy's Wilderness Camp. One of the women calls us "Sister Mamas" which I love. I wrote a note to them saying "I am glad he is getting help." I was going to add "but I wish he didn't need it." I struck that from the note to these women. I've decided to not add this caveat to every conversation.

I am trying to incorporate the Boy's mental health struggle into my day-to-day and still maintain my sanity. When I was in St. Regis, there is a gift shop. I found a journal that looked like something I would have bought in seventh grade, but it spoke to me. I bought four: one for me and three for the other Sister Mamas.

Three weeks ago, I would have thought this cheerful little bird was full of shit. Now after starting to read Viktor Frankl's Man's Search for Meaning and learning at Wilderness that negative emotions only last thirty seconds to three minutes if you just sit with them, I might learn to find happiness while the Boy is away.

Gratitude helps, too. I am grateful for Jason, one of the Boy's supervisors. I am grateful for the entire state of Montana, for hosting a place like this boarding school, and people who dedicate their lives to helping kids like the Boy find their way.