Finding Peace, Finding Beauty

Peace. We’re all in need of it. In constant search for it. Seeking for the harmony within ourselves which allows us the freedom to be, the freedom to exist…as is. To be who we are, without fear, without torment, without shame. To be at peace, make peace, keep the peace. To have the cessation of or freedom from any strife or dissension.

This is the battle Noah is fighting on a constant basis. Looking for a calmness to settle over his mind, allowing him to feel content, accepted, and loved. To be able to show up as who he is, no apologies. To feel others love him and accept him…not despite his differences, but because of them.

The adults that know him, see his gifts. But his peers do not. His peers tell him he is weird, that something is wrong with him. Some call him retarded. A bitch.

Words hurt. Words harm. Words can be weapons.

But words can also heal, help and lift you up. They can gently hold you and protect you.

And they can inspire you. Just as Noah’s words have done for me.

A couple of Saturdays ago we were sitting in our dining room doing art together. We were doodling and writing. I looked over and he had written a beautiful phrase…

I was overwhelmed instantly with the depth and heart of these words. The complete truth in them, truth that we all strive for. To be recognized, but even more so, to recognize in ourselves, our own beauty.

And then there’s the irony surrounding this quote. That this little man, with a beautiful soul, doesn’t see it in himself. As instantly as it lifted me up, it crushed me. How could I get him to see that his very words apply to himself?

I try. Every day, every. single. day. I try. Yet, I can’t help sometimes but feel I’ve failed him. Failed helping him see the very beauty and light he brings to this world. Just because his peers may not yet see it, doesn’t mean it isn’t there. Those that spew such harmful, hurtful words are certainly not the judge of another’s character or value.

The road Noah has traveled has been long, arduous, and painful. Anyone who consistently shows up and feels different, unappreciated, feels like they stand out and are not accepted…but continues to show up anyway…well that person has guts, has courage. But that doesn’t mean they aren’t also vulnerable.

That night Noah and I were doing art, he also drew a picture. When I looked at it, I asked him if the boy caught a heart. 

He was the boy in the boat. HE is the boy with the broken heart. He is the boy that just wants to feel loved. By others. By himself.

His struggles with his mood disorder, his depression, his anxiety have left him lacking that peace I mentioned earlier. This child, he just doesn’t feel peace for any sustained period of time. And that weighs on him, weighs on me. Isn’t it our ultimate wish as parents that our children will live their life feeling loved, feeling happy? And my son struggles to feel either one of those for any extended period of time.

His struggle to find peace, to find calm, to find happiness has led him to harm himself several times. Some I’ve written about. Some I haven’t. But it’s happened enough that it is time to ask for more help.

Tomorrow, when most parents are dropping their children off at school or sending them on the bus, I will be walking through the doors of place that offers healing and hope for children that suffer like Noah. Tomorrow, Noah will be starting a partial hospitalization program to help him learn to love himself. To help him learn to cope, to process, to practice safe choices. 

It is an emotional time. It is hard as his Mom to wrap my head around my son’s needs. It is hard not to ask the questions, ‘Why can’t he be happy like most kids? Why does he have to feel pain so deeply, so intently, unlike most kids?’

I try not to spend too much time in the ‘why’. It really doesn’t serve any purpose, other than to make me more sad. And I don’t need any help there, as you can imagine. Most of my time is spent surviving and supporting. And the moment I start to feel even a little sorry for myself, I think of Noah and his courage.

See, when it was decided between his doctors, and us, that it was time for more intensive treatment – the treatment start date conflicted with our already scheduled and booked spring break vacation. I suggested to Noah that we could start the treatment right after vacation a week later, if he’d like.

He said no. Noah, my eleven year old, said no. He told me that he needed this place. That he needed to feel safe. And that he wanted to start treatment, and cancel vacation.

And so we did.

Let me ask you this…how many adults do you think know themselves enough to not only realize and admit they need to seek psychiatric help, but would make the choice to do so immediately, and cancel their vacation plans to start?

Not many.

So you can see now, right? You can see how when I start to get slightly muddled in self pity, I realize and I remember the courage of my son. The courage he has to step forward and claim his space, claim his needs, and move forward, step by step, to get support for himself. And when you have a child that can do that? There is NO self pity that needs to be had. Because I am blessed.

I am blessed with the most amazing, beautiful, emotionally connected boy. My son astounds me with his wisdom and bravery.

As we drove away from the treatment center after the appointment discussing his admission, he grabbed my hand and said, “Mom…I think this will be a really safe place for me.”

Yes, baby boy. Yes it will be. And that’s really all I can ever ask for isn’t it? That you are safe.

So tomorrow, we will walk together into a place of healing and hope. Together, we will take steps forward seeking peace, seeking beauty.

And we will be brave.

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