I’d like to share a little secret – the reason that #lifewithepilepsy isn’t hard hard. Just a little hard.
I’m sharing this because all of a sudden family and friends are offering to buy airline tickets and come help, and that’s not at all what I intended. You guys are sweet, but remember? I only ask for help when I’m wearing Hammer pants.
Now. It took me years to find this secret, so don’t think I’m going to give it away just like that. Let me first tell you how I discovered it.
Awhile back, I took a course to become a certified hypnotherapist. I thought I wanted to help other people, but in hindsight I realize that I needed to help myself first. There’s a lot of complicated baggage to sort through when you transition from not being a special needs parent to suddenly being one. And there’s no training program to prepare you for this stuff. Life just happens. You make it work.
When it was my turn, my instructor deftly steered me into hypnosis, then stepped aside and let my subconscious mind take the reigns. At some point, she snapped her fingers and I found myself standing beneath the eaves of a majestic cathedral, inhaling crisp mountain air and looking out over treetops as I waited for my companion to arrive.
I felt calm, settled, still. He would come. When didn’t matter.
(Who was this companion, my ego wondered?)
Soon I saw the top of his head bobbing along the stone path toward the cathedral. A young boy, blond. Wearing a red wool sweater, hand-knit and unevenly hewn.
He ran with perfect ease. Not because he was late or I was waiting. But because he was so excited to meet me. He couldn’t wait to embark on the adventure we had planned. And he knew exactly how it would turn out.
No hesitation. No apprehension. Just joy.
The next image I saw was a baby in utero, sucking his thumb.
My baby. My Bunz.
That’s when it dawned on me: He came here willingly. And not just willingly. Eagerly.
THAT was powerful.
Now, depending on your belief system you’re probably sitting there thinking, hmm. Nice metaphor. Or wow! Past-life recall! Or in the words of Aunt Esther – you ol’ heathen!
I don’t know about any of that.
What I do know is that it was a major turning point for me. It opened my eyes to a new level of awareness that Bunz is so much more than what we see. The image of him running to meet me – and his excitement to come into this life, despite all its challenges – was so powerful. Because in real life, he doesn’t run. And it’s hard to imagine that he would choose these challenges. You know, if he had a choice.
So the secret is that he is Glorious. Whole. Complete. Even in his incompleteness.
Perhaps Bunz and I knew what we were getting into before we entered this life. Perhaps his spirit is even older and wiser than mine. Perhaps we’re here to learn.
Or perhaps it was just a metaphor.
Sometimes I get carried away. 😉