Odysseus & Athena
I shared a profound moment with my 15 year old nephew.
I was laying on the couch with my sister when my nephew asked if she could read and edit the essay he had just written for his 10th grade English class. Without knowing what the essay was about, she asked him, "Can Auntie read it for you instead?" He responded, "Sure, that's fine."
I lazily took his laptop as he left to the other room, looked at the bright screen, and started to read what I thought would be a basic commentary about The Odyssey. In my head, I rolled my eyes thinking, oh gosh, not another generic high school essay about Odysseus and his epic journey. I had no idea that this 2-page essay would become the biggest window I had yet to see into my nephew's vulnerability and suffering.
In this essay, my nephew describes his Odyssey like journey in struggling with his diagnosis and treatment of Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD). The increased academic demands and expectations of him in 9th grade were quite difficult on his self-esteem and confidence, in light of his recently discovered condition. He writes about feeling deep self hatred from not being able to keep pace with his peers and embarrassment about not recalling information like the others. When I read this line in his essay, tears slowly welled in my eyes. I paused and closed my eyes, allowing my heart to reach deep into the suffering of his voice. I kept reading. He likened his care team of supportive parents, teachers, and tutors to Athena (in her help of Odysseus), and shared how their support of his ADD and neural diversity made such a difference in his ability to cope and work through the challenges. Towards the end, he described how the unconditional love of his parents has helped him accept ADD as simply part of him. He wrote about making peace with his ADD, and how doing so allows him to live with it without self judgment. At this point, I was crying hard. I thought, he's so wise and resilient. Because I have come to understand what the power of being loved and accepted fully enables, I could feel my nephew's triumph over his painful struggle.
I found my nephew in bed, diligently doing his homework. In tears, I hugged him tightly and kissed his head. I said, "Nephew, I'm so sorry for the pain you've experienced." I thanked him for being brave and giving voice to his suffering. I told him I was proud of his courage to be open about his experiences and encouraged him to continue doing so. I told him it was important that he continue learning how to accept all parts of himself, no matter what. He was sweet and stroked my head as I was shedding tears all over his bare shoulders. He kept saying mmm hmmm as I said my things, providing reassurance to me, as if he could feel my suffering too.
My nephew had no idea that his reflective work would contribute not only to his own healing, but to the healing of his mom and his aunt. I am deeply grateful for my nephew and what I was able to learn from him and his not so generic high school essay about Odysseus and his epic journey.
I was laying on the couch with my sister when my nephew asked if she could read and edit the essay he had just written for his 10th grade English class. Without knowing what the essay was about, she asked him, "Can Auntie read it for you instead?" He responded, "Sure, that's fine."
I lazily took his laptop as he left to the other room, looked at the bright screen, and started to read what I thought would be a basic commentary about The Odyssey. In my head, I rolled my eyes thinking, oh gosh, not another generic high school essay about Odysseus and his epic journey. I had no idea that this 2-page essay would become the biggest window I had yet to see into my nephew's vulnerability and suffering.
In this essay, my nephew describes his Odyssey like journey in struggling with his diagnosis and treatment of Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD). The increased academic demands and expectations of him in 9th grade were quite difficult on his self-esteem and confidence, in light of his recently discovered condition. He writes about feeling deep self hatred from not being able to keep pace with his peers and embarrassment about not recalling information like the others. When I read this line in his essay, tears slowly welled in my eyes. I paused and closed my eyes, allowing my heart to reach deep into the suffering of his voice. I kept reading. He likened his care team of supportive parents, teachers, and tutors to Athena (in her help of Odysseus), and shared how their support of his ADD and neural diversity made such a difference in his ability to cope and work through the challenges. Towards the end, he described how the unconditional love of his parents has helped him accept ADD as simply part of him. He wrote about making peace with his ADD, and how doing so allows him to live with it without self judgment. At this point, I was crying hard. I thought, he's so wise and resilient. Because I have come to understand what the power of being loved and accepted fully enables, I could feel my nephew's triumph over his painful struggle.
I found my nephew in bed, diligently doing his homework. In tears, I hugged him tightly and kissed his head. I said, "Nephew, I'm so sorry for the pain you've experienced." I thanked him for being brave and giving voice to his suffering. I told him I was proud of his courage to be open about his experiences and encouraged him to continue doing so. I told him it was important that he continue learning how to accept all parts of himself, no matter what. He was sweet and stroked my head as I was shedding tears all over his bare shoulders. He kept saying mmm hmmm as I said my things, providing reassurance to me, as if he could feel my suffering too.
My nephew had no idea that his reflective work would contribute not only to his own healing, but to the healing of his mom and his aunt. I am deeply grateful for my nephew and what I was able to learn from him and his not so generic high school essay about Odysseus and his epic journey.
Comments
Post a Comment