Oh hai 2014, you suck already

Well, so much for hoping 2014 being a better year for me.

On Friday, my son -for the first time in his life, had a seizure. His girlfriend found him convulsing and called my son’s father (who is a pediatrician). His father came and while on their way to the hospital, my son had three more seizures.

He was admitted and taken to the Intensive Care Unit.

There, my son was found to have Rabdomyolysis and acute kidney failure.

Fun. Continue reading

My son’s reply

Yesterday, I wrote about my son’s birthday.

I posted the link on his FB wall.

This is his reply:

So long ago in the middle of the forest and yet so little has changed…

This forest is disappearing, the mines are now in its stead.

And yet the boy, I, keeps dreaming,

we’ll see how far he will get.

I’m sure he’ll get very far

Following his dreams

Happy birthday, my son

Yesterday was my son’s birthday.

My amazing, talented, beautiful son is now 24.

But to me, he'll always be the little dreamer, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders

But to me, he’ll always be the little dreamer, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders

But work (because we’re in the middle of a big weekend event) and life (because we’re one continent away) got in the way of celebrating.

How can I even begin to enumerate all the things I wish and hope for him? I don’t think there is enough space in WP for that.

Happy birthday my son! Be all the things you want to be and dream all the dreams you dare to dream.

Facebook conversation with my son

I posted the link for one of my Canvas’ posts on Facebook today.

My son saw it and the following conversation issued:

Son: I’m just like that too.
Me: I know. I’m sorry you got the bad genes :(
Son: I don’t have bad genes, I live in a fucked up world. My work involves unleashing the potential for change hidden in tortured subjects. I would even say that the structural conditions that favour depression are a form of oppression.
Son: And if it sort of rhymes, it must be true.
Me: This is true! ♥♥♥

I’m glad to hear my son doesn’t blame me for it.  But I still know it’s my bad genes.

Also, I’m very proud of my son!


I suppose I should write an update.

24 hours later and one attemp by WordPress to sabotage this post, here I am.

Funny, I finished it, hit published and WP deleted the whole thing.  Didn’t even save it as a draft.

Oh well.

My son is gone to Toronto.

He showed up at my door yesterday afternoon after no hearing a word from him since he left in anger on Sunday.  We knew he was OK cause he was posting on Facebook but he never called us or wrote to us.

Anyway, he came with the suitcase and backpack and for a little moment, I was happy cause I thought he was coming to stay for the remainder of the trip.  But that was not the case.

He came in and he asked me to use my laptop so he could find a ride to Toronto.  We made a couple of phone calls and we secured his ride.

After that, we talked for a while.  He said he has talked to a psychologist on Monday and that it had helped.  He told me that the only person that understands him and cares about him is his girlfriend.

He said some not so nice things about his sister.  I refuted this and I think I was able to get my point across.  Or maybe not.  Don’t think I’ll ever know.

It is very unlikely I’ll see him again any time soon. I even mentioned this to him.

He said that he’s never coming back to Canada unless he comes with his girlfriend.  He then proceeded to suggest I should go visit him in Colombia.  I told him that is very unlikely to happen.  I told him that the same things that give him nightmares give me nightmares as well.  That I will never go back.  It took me 8 years to muster the courage to go there for a visit and it almost killed me. It led me to a nervous breakdown and I spent the next 5 months in severe depression.

No, I will never go back there.

There’s no place in the world where my son and I can be together.

We dropped the conversation because he was getting to upset.  Nonetheless, I am grateful I got to see him one last time before he left.

Then it was time for him to go.  He gave me an awkward hug, a little peck on the cheek and asked me to tell his sister he’ll call her when he’s in a better mental state.

Off to Toronto he went.  He flies back to Colombia on July 20th.

And then, who knows what will happen to him.  At least he has his girlfriend, I guess.

I have failed my son.

What a day (and what a weekend)

My mind – and feelings, are all over the place today.

I’ve been subjected to a roller-coaster of emotions by those around me.

In the last 24 hours I’ve been accused of being a liar, a sell-out and many other ugly things by people who supposedly love me.

In the last 24 hours, I’ve gone from “I can’t do this anymore” to “I’ve no choice by to keep going” a few times.

I decided to accept the invitation of one of my son’s high school friends to go to her cottage.  I thought taking him away for some quiet time would do him good.  What a disaster that turned out to be.

Thank goodness my daughter and I had to work on Saturday night so it was supposed to be only roughly 24 hours.

I actually came back physically sick and couldn’t even work last night.

My daughter woke me up early today cause we had a photo shoot at the studio at 11 am.  She left just before 10 cause she had to open the studio for the photographer and I was supposed to get there at 10:30 so she could do my hair.

I took my shower, got dressed and went to get my things together.  Couldn’t find my dress so I thought my daughter had taken it with her so I left.  Got to the studio, to find out my dress was not there.  You know how -when you are already having a bad day, the littlest thing can make you feel really miserable? Yeah, that.

I went back home, found that my dress was still in the dress bag in my daughter’s closet after our last trip to Montreal.  Good.  Headed back to the studio.  While waiting at the light, the only thing on my mind was: “wouldn’t it be nice if I got run over by a bus and it all ended here?”.

Unfortunately, I didn’t get run over so I continued walking and got to the studio.  Everybody was there as it was already 11.  My hair was still not done and I was not dressed.

I managed to get photo shoot presentable and did my takes.  Not without getting my eyes all watery a couple of times.

My daughter went home after the shoot and I stayed to help with a Collegiate Shag workshop.  I wasn’t teaching it but there were short of women so I stayed and helped.

Go figure.  By the time my foot was hurting to much to keep dancing, I was smiling again.  Dancing has that effect on me.

After a quick stop at Loblaws, I got home feeling almost happy again.

Ha! How naive of me.

I open the door and my daughter is crying.  My son is gone.

Take a deep breath….

So yeah.  That’s my day.

My son packed his things and left with his suitcase.  His return ticket is for July 20th so I suppose he intends to stay at a friend’s in the mean time.  Maybe try and change his flight.  I don’t know.

When a mother’s heart weeps

Well, my friends, I’m out of sorts today.

My son’s depression is quickly spiralling down.   He’s been having horrible nightmares since he came to Canada.  Today, when I woke up, went to say hello to him.  He was up already (he’s sleeping on our sofa-bed in the living room).  He looked bad.  He was shaken.  He said today’s nightmare was particularly vicious.

We talked for a bit but his thoughts are dark.  Thoughts of death.

I can’t take this.

I can deal with any pain I may have.  I am strong enough.

But I can’t stand seeing my son be in so much pain.

I don’t know what to do.

Bitter-sweet times

Quick update.

My son is here with me.  Finally.

He arrived in Canada on Tuesday but stayed in Toronto for a few days (which he forgot to mention before he got there) for a couple of interviews at the University of Toronto.

A few weeks back he mentioned in passing -very casually, that he might try and transfer his credits to a Canadian university.  He’s currently doing the equivalent of an honours degree in History and Political Science in our hometown.

I didn’t know what to make of that cause he had repeatedly said he would never leave Colombia again.  I didn’t want to get my hopes up and since he was so casual about it, I decided not to get excited.

Now that he’s finally in Ottawa with me, we went for a little walk and had a little chat.

Things are bad.  He’s in the middle of a depressive episode.  It hurts so much to see him like that.  Damn my stupid, effing genes.

But that’s not all.  He said he can’t wait to get out of Colombia.  No, his actual words were “I NEED to get out of Colombia”.  That’s where my heart skipped a beat.

He’s been threatened.  Again.  His life is in danger.  Probably the only thing is his favour is his Canadian passport.  They think it twice before acting on a North American citizen.  But in the end, it won’t stop them.  In Colombia, if you speak up your mind and they don’t like it, they kill you.  End of the story.  It doesn’t matter if you are comedian, a soccer player, a presidential candidate, or a university student.  They kill you just the same.

So my son is with me for a week and a half.  Then he goes back to that god-forsaken country.

And then what?