I left off in the story of Zack at his seventh birthday party; a foreshadowing of the mental and spiritual battles we were yet to face. The space this incident rented in my brain was minuscule, but its presence would resonate perpetually like the hum of a fluorescent bulb; a sound I usually can push back in my consciousness, but the tension of its effect is always with me.
The nagging of this continuous hum drove me with a maddening fervor toward a one woman mission; if the track that was laid out in front of us appeared to be headed in a direction that I didn’t want it to go then I was going to start ripping out railroad ties, and prying up steel rails with my bare hands. I believed that if I could just help Zack to embrace his strengths, they would eventually outweigh his weaknesses.
Music was the most obvious strength. He had perfect pitch, and adored music. He memorized all the composers, the era in which they composed, the pieces they composed, and could easily hum the main theme of these pieces. One of his favorite games was "guess the composer." In the car he would set the radio to the local classical station and attempt to guess the composer before the end of the song. Often it might be a piece we had never heard before, but he could often guess correctly simply by recognizing the style. I played clarinet in the Marine band so it was an easy choice when it came to choosing an instrument. He excelled quickly.
Geography was his next most obvious strength. At five, from the place-mat he ate dinner on, he memorized all the states and capitals with an effortlessness and joy that was mind boggling. Soon after, we bought him an atlas that he hauled around with him 24/7. It didn’t take long for him to memorize the entire globe, the capitals of every country, their currency, and their anthem. He entertained and stunned adults with his knowledge. He seemed to gain a great deal of pleasure from this skill.
There was a deep seeded flaw to this approach however. First of all, weaknesses rarely disappear, even in the face of great strengths. Only with hindsight am I able to see the kind of therapy that would have benefited Zack greatly. I now preach to parents with struggling grade-schoolers, even pre-schoolers, to get help sooner than later.
The second flaw to this approach is that it put a lot of pressure on Zack to perform. As much as I may have tried to shield him from my own anxiety about his condition he understood that being successful in his strengths was very important to his mom. By the time he was in 8th grade he was the 1st chair clarinet in concert band, 1st chair sax in jazz band, performing with the Colorado Spring Youth symphony, and participating in all-state concert band. He had also won his school’s Geography Bee and was headed to D.U. for the state competition.
And that’s when it happened, he maxed out, red lined, the pressure was just too great, and he broke.
The first time it happened we thought it might be the result of too much caffeine. He said he felt excited, couldn’t calm down, couldn’t sleep. We were at his grandparent’s house where Mountain Dew was a great treat, so we brushed it off and told him to stop drinking so much soda. The second time it was more alarming, followed quickly by the third, fourth and fifth. He was having panic attacks. It progressed from alarming to terrifying in 72 hrs. He was having 15 to 20 panic attacks a day. When he was seized by one he would grab my hands with icy fingers, his face would go flush, and I could literally watch his pupils dilate as he gasped for breath. It was enough to give me a panic attack.
Regrets? I didn’t get him help. My worst nightmare; I would take him to a doctor, they would pronounce him mentally ill, cursing him to a life of pills and hospitals. I foolishly thought if I could avoid hearing the doctor make such a declaration, pray through it, hold his hand, I could somehow stop this train from running us over. I was in full blown denial. No one could have told me the truth at that point.
In the last two months I’ve had to face the reality that this will probably never end. I didn’t realize that this is what I was pinning my hope on until this came to light. I sense that mysterious unknown things are taking place in my heart, mind and spirit, that I have no more control over than my own heartbeat. It's as if my foundation has been morphed from solid bedrock to not quite set Jell-O. Who I will be when all is said and done? This is yet to be seen.
