One of the features of temperament is the ease with which one negotiates transitions.
I suppose progress can be defined as a sort of transition, or series of them.
I often find it interesting, and satisfying, to look back over the course of a week or month or more and see events that had appeared to be isolated at the time reveal a progression.
I've often noticed a beautiful symbiosis between my own inner growth and my quest to observe, define, and meet Scott's needs. It is no accident that when I returned to therapy with Sharon nearly 3 years ago after a 14 years' long absence, that it was with a dream about Scott. Periodically I've had to defend therapy to Gary, and the most compelling evidence in its favor has always been in front of me. I only saw it after we had the IEP meeting.
Years ago I had a dream. In it I'd planted seeds, and kept digging them up to see if they were sprouting roots yet.
Everything I have done in therapy, every insight I've received, has been what has enabled me to get Scott to where he most needs to be. Traditional education gauges progress by periodically pulling up the seeds and measuring the length of the root. Many seeds are hardy enough to tolerate this. My Scott is not. He requires lots of undisturbed time, and secret places for his learning to form. As do I.
I've been struck before by the correlation between meeting Scott's needs, and my own. It occurred to me to wonder if that was not true for Connor as well. Almost in answer academic issues begin to arise for him.
There is a transition he is being 'asked' to make; in fact, he's expected to have made it already. Rather than have assignments given to him, he is expected to take responsibility for them, reach out for them, pull them toward him. If he has performed poorly on a test, he is expected to seek out the instructor to find out what he did wrong, and to initiate its correction. He's expected to take responsibility for coordinating, planning, pacing himself in performing multiple tasks, over a stretch of time, and he is expected to keep track of this. The basis for all of this is writing in his planner, which he is very reluctant to do.
I notice there is a peculiar barrier that maybe other people aren't cognizant of. I sense a resistance between the world of idea, and transforming it into the world of action. It's a birth of sorts, making concepts manifest. It's like a wall for me, and I wonder if it's something similar he's up against but unable to articulate.
Tuesday night Gary and I went to see Margaret, the new practitioner we're going to have follow Scott's adhd. She has been focusing on our marriage, as it is the ground in which she'll be treating Scott. The first two times we saw her and the subject of divorce came up Gary shut down completely. I could feel his spirit withdraw. Tuesday night for the first time he engaged. She wants to see us again, just the two of us, one more time before she sees Scott again. She wants us each to bring a "bucket list" of things to do before we die, a sketch of what our lives will look like after divorce, and for me, a plan for employment.
It's big that Gary has transitioned from keeping his head in the sand and avoiding the subject, to signaling his willingness to be a cooperative partner in making this as gentle for the boys as possible.
I felt overwhelmed. I have a hard time with bucket lists, and trying to imagine various scenarios and what life will be like within each of them. I understand now that this is a similar reluctance that Connor is experiencing within new expectations at school. Divorce has been in the world of idea for me for years now, and in the world of intention for less than a year. I am experiencing the resistance I usually experience in taking something to the next level.