PROM NIGHT II—LONELINESS IN A PANDEMIC

Years of meditation practice have allowed me to sometimes approximate a sane person.

The other day, I awoke inundated by cortisol and genuine worries, both pandemic-related and other. I didn’t know how I would get out of bed, much less make it through a very full day. 

Sitting up halfway, trying to muster my gumption to get a move on, a question popped into the tiny bit of spaciousness my meditation practice has created in my head: 

Is there some way I can see this differently?

I didn’t have an answer, actually. But it made a little room in my heart to not feel quite so despondent. Times like these, that's a precious gift. 

Subsequently, I’ve been finding plenty of applications for a “see-this-differently” approach! 

One area that's ripe for a bigger vision? My son's senior year. 

For the class of 2020, there’s no senior prom. No big, festive graduation. I hear that some kids (well, young adults, at this point) are defying social-distancing rules and hanging out without protections. But mine aren’t. Most others aren’t, either. 

And these kids are lonely. All of them. Not just the marginalized kids. Not just the students who don’t “fit in,” or are “different.”

In a way, it’s kind of an amazing moment for the latter groups, I suspect. 

Popular people just can’t be popular in the same ways while sheltering in place. And perhaps people who are often lonely can’t judge themselves (and others) in the usual ways. This is simply how it is—for everybody.

Is it possible that pandemic-induced social isolation actually mitigates the social isolation that so many feel in their usual day-to-day lives? 

I think of my mother-in-law, who—despite having seven living children—rarely sees anyone besides a caregiver who comes for a few hours every day and the one daughter who lives in the same city. 

Now, she must feel less disappointed—because nobody’s seeing anybody. I hope so, anyway. 

I think of my son, who as a junior so assiduously tried to get a date for the prom—with no success. At that time, I began to pre-worry about this year's prom. 

These days, I’ve been asking myself if the lack of prom is actually a great way for those who might not have found a date to avoid a lifetime of that bad memory? 

That said, is social-distancing in some ways a blessing in disguise for students who struggle socially? Especially those who connect better digitally? 

Has this terrible pandemic created online social spaces that are more accepting? 

If everybody is lonely, are some lonelier than others? Or are our children (and elders, and selves) being equally lonely, together but apart? Maybe even experiencing loneliness in ways that might make them (us) more compassionate and inclusive for the long term? 

In other words, is this challenging period in some ways a powerful equalizer? Aside from all the myriad challenges and tragedies, are we finally learning to create a world in which there’s more acceptance and our real gifts shine and we can be free to be ourselves? (I know a lot of wild animals certainly feel that way right now.) 

Also, I'm wondering what will continue to resonate most after we’ve moved through the pandemic—the terrible loneliness and fear, or the unprecedented shared experience of an extraordinary time?

I certainly see how this global crisis exacerbates inequalities around access and economics, and I genuinely fear many of us, and many of our towns and cities, may not be able to recover—for a very long time.I mourn for the hundreds of thousands dead, and for their living loved ones who couldn't be with them at the end.I'm deeply grateful for the many brave essential workers who have risked their lives to keep civilization functioning worldwide. 

Here in my own small, relatively safe universe, I nevertheless experience waves of such sadness, fear, plain-old grumpiness...So I’m trying to see things slightly differently, in the interest of family and community morale, in general, and personal sanity, in particular.

May we in our mutual loneliness find ways to uplift ourselves and each other. Some days, that’s going to be really hard. On those days, may we remember that it's possible to see our lives from another perspective.  

Stay well, dear persons.

You are not alone in your fears or your loneliness or your joys, and you are loved,

Full Spectrum Mama

THE COMPLAINT DEPARTMENT

It's that time of year when some of us lucky chums begin to feel more complainous.

What's that you say? Any time of year is a good time to feel complainous? Why, that's why Partial/incomplete Monochrome Persona (PiMP) and Full Spectrum Mama (FSM) have teamed up to create that handy dandy button over there on the right so that any time can be a complaint time.  

However, the “holiday season” can be quite grim. Knowing that your COMPLAINTS will be complained in a timely fashion for our annual COMPLAINT DEPARTMENT anniversary guest post -- with all the flair of PiMP! -- might be Just The Thing to ease your holiday woes.

This year, we at TCD continue to accept Junior Complaints, Short Complaints and Long Complaints, all to be suitably complained. Acceptable COMPLAINTS may be funny, whiny and/or dire. Please send all COMPLAINTS to jineffable@gmail.com.  

All this is not to say, as per usual, that TCD is open.  Yet somewhere…far, far away…lies the always-accepting, ever-enduring, firmly-shut COMPLAINT DEPARTMENT. You may be assured of that, alrighty.

Sincerely,

Partial/incomplete Monochrome Persona

Factotum, THE COMPLAINT DEPARTMENT

Guest writer/Troubleshooter @ Full Spectrum Mama

TEAM FRIENDLY FACE

This is my plan: Over the next few months, I am going to somehow find those other kids (and their families) who are entering 7^th grade/middle school together who will NOT care if someone is “different” or “off” or “weird” and I am going to introduce them to each other. I want to have them know and remember each other’s faces so that when middle school starts they will have friendly faces in the halls and classrooms. (Also…I hope G and I will be able to recognize those friendly parents’ and kids’ faces!)

I both got this idea and started my search at the Middle School Orientation for parents with children in the “Special Education” program* (more on this, soon). Every single one of the parents there had direct, specific and personal concerns about their child getting bullied (among other things).

The woman to my right was crying as she spoke about her daughter being bullied “because she’s just…’off.’” Her fear about middle school was both reasonable and powerful. As she spoke, it occurred to me that my G could be a “friendly face” for her daughter – a peer who would never think she was “off”  -- and who wouldn’t care if she was, anyway! So I slipped her our digits with a little note to this effect.

I turned to look at another woman a few (empty) rows behind us, who’d been talking about her son’s difficulties in tying his shoes, how anxious and unhappy he will feel about this if other kids are judging him (and we’d almost all been nodding), thinking to give her our number too and her face was just – STRICKEN. She looked terrified and devastated and devoid of hope. Almost blank. I – with my sloooow thought process – processed that and then vowed to reach out to her as soon as we stood up. But she rushed out.

I am still thinking about “the lady who left,” because I feel like we need each other, and our kids need each other more…If I see her again – and recognize her, please – I will be quicker.

I will have neither dignity nor restraint when it comes to this mission. Nor will team members be limited to incoming 7th graders! Even online and long-distance friendships can be part of this new, classy, influential team, TEAM FRIENDLY FACE.

So, hey! Lady! And anybody else who might participate! If you are reading this, email me, okay? At the very least, take a moment to consider joining this team – or forming your own -- in whatever way feels right for you and yours. Let’s get our kids (or ourselves, or whatever!) together and build TEAM FRIENDLY FACE!

Love,

Full Spectrum Mama

P.S. A TEAM-worthy post, courtesy of an honorary TEAM member: http://seriouslynotboring.com/2014/04/10/a-smile-instead-of-judgement/

* I wrote to the middle school special education people at the meeting:

Dear all,

I hope this finds you well. Thank you for last Tuesday's meeting.

I was wondering if there is any way to reach out to other parents, families and kids in this group. I think it could be enormously helpful to some of these kids to have as many friendly faces as possible in the halls and classrooms as they transition to middle school. I would be more than happy to be in charge of trying to make something happen, and to pay for materials (mailings?), host any event, etc. But I know because of privacy laws you cannot divulge any information to me. Perhaps I could write an email that you could then send to the other parents? I know that would be an effort for someone to input the email addresses but I think it would mean a lot to some of the families, especially the kids...Thoughts?
Thanks so much,

[Full Spectrum Mama]

The Least Popular Kid in the Class – Part Two

At the time of the Least Popular Kid in Class Incident (http://fullspectrummama.blogspot.com/2013/02/the-least-popular-kid-in-class-part-one.html), I tried to get the scuttlebutt on what – besides crying -  happened after G answered the day’s question, but continued to get “stuff” in response.

Chances are, he was genuinely unable to put his feelings into words.  We are neurologically quite similar, and it took me until, oh, last year to realize that where I stand on the spectrum, I tend to get upset before I understand exactly why I am upset (never mind putting those feelings into words!). The overwhelming quality of intense feelings precludes clarity around those feelings until the strong feelings subside. This can be true of overpowering sensory feelings (such as those experienced by sensorially-sensitive people in the average classroom), as well as emotional ones.

Still, knowing that he needed time to process was not going to directly aid G with his lack of popularity, or make him feel better about crying in front of his classmates.

Outside of suspecting it would not be really, really helpful to tell G, “But you’re my very best friend, buddy!” I was at a loss of how to help my child.

So I wrote G’s teacher along these lines:

Dear [teacher],

I love that you start morning meeting with a question. I do the same in all my philosophy classes [read: I am not about to bust your chops for asking big questions]. And I think yesterday's question was a great one. I’m just unclear on exactly what happened after [G] answered the question and then, “for some reason” (according to him), began crying.

When you get a chance could you let me know a bit about what happened yesterday so that I can best support [G] at this time? Or if you have any suggestions...

I know you have your hands full, so at your convenience.

Thanks so much,

[Full Spectrum Mama]

Responding via email, G’s teacher explained that a number of students had been being inattentive or having side conversations while G spoke. Other students had interrupted him, saying that he was wrong about being unpopular. These latter, while acting with good motives, “were not speaking in turn or being respectful to the process.” These factors contributed to G’s frustration.

He assured me that he had never seen anyone be intentionally or directly unkind to G, but admitted that G is often left out or “not paid attention to”…

He concluded with some positive thoughts: “As stressful and unpleasant as it was, I believe that the log jam's been broken and we are going in a positive direction with this very social class.  While I apologized to [G] for him having to go through this situation I also thanked him for giving us all the opportunity to examine our careless and thoughtless behavior and make positive changes.”

Whew!

It was a great gift to have a broader picture of events, and to be able to engage G in a slightly more nuanced processing of what had happened. Not that any of this is going to turn G into someone who doesn’t sometimes get flappy, or extra-loud, or reveal new heights of dorkitude. It might help him accept himself, though, and that’s more than good enough for those of us who love him.

“Free to be You and Me,” with its messages of inclusion, celebrations of difference and our family favorite song “It’s alright to cry,” has been on pretty heavy rotation in G’s room the last month or so. He seems to be feeling less lonely at school, but he’s still asking to spend recess reading in the library because, for him, navigating the playground scene is tremendously daunting.

Now, over a month out, I think everybody was right: lots of kids grew and stretched to be more inclusive and thoughtful following this incident – but G may still have good reasons to cry in school.

Sometimes, too, he may not even know why he is crying.

What he will know is that crying is healthy and totally, utterly, absolutely super alright: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y52bs0aX6v8 *

Love,

Full Spectrum Mama

* Best. Video. Ever.