I don't feel foggy, fuzzy or dull this morning. I feel alive. Ready to fight back. Ready to push the darkness off the cliff, Lochlan beside me, Ben behind me for leverage, as I can lean against him and he won't move so I won't slide backwards.
Is that a euphemism? I doubt it. He physically does this and he mentally does this and somehow it's always been slightly easier to lose my shit on Ben's watch because there was never as much at stake, and only half the same amount of history to fight through.
Henry will be nineteen years old this week and I figured out that's why Jake is suddenly breathing down my neck, unable to hide himself or step back into the night, or hang out around the edge of the hole. He can't disappear away to heaven or mire himself in purgatory right now. It seems I'm not the only one who fights curiosity so hard I get myself in all sorts of messes when I ultimately give in.
And maybe that's what Jake wants to see. He wants to see this tall (six-two and still going, by the measure of his work pants which no longer come to the tops of his shoes) blonde handsome man, who has a steady job and is starting university in the fall after taking a year to do a few extra courses to prepare for the program he wants. He has close friends, easy humour and is ridiculously kind, sensitive and logical.
He sounds like Lochlan when he talks. The pragmatism shines. Nurture over nature, every time. And he really doesn't look like Jake except in colouring and stature. I'm grateful for that. He looks more like me and a lot like himself. He is an amazing man and I thank my lucky stars every day that my children are both well-adjusted, empathetic, smart people. Good humans, as I always say. Raising them I put values over rewards and honesty over laziness. I never took the easy way out. I demanded consistency and kindness because there were some major upheavals in their lives and I didn't want to ruin them.
And it's not over. My job isn't done. I'm still teaching Henry things like how to distract himself when he feels down or overwhelmed, even as I battle for a way to accomplish that myself. I'm still teaching him how expensive life is and how he has to save far more than he spends and how a plan and a trajectory is a good thing because there will be detours and fallbacks and huge strides forward along the way. I'm teaching him that he is a gift and that every time something bad happens, that's when you learn the most and a good day is there to keep you looking forward. That life is also a gift. That mental health is a precious thing and that we will all be okay, even when days seem dark or when things get really hard.
And that he will always and forever have the entire Collective to back him up and help him out. No matter what. For the rest of his life.
He's one of them now. One of the boys. He's been moving toward this and now they just include him when they're working on projects or going out. He has made it to this time and I am a proud mom. He only has one more work shift this week and we're celebrating after that. For days.