What’s Cooking?

In which a Big Project gets underway.

Hellebore in my garden, February 2024. Photographed by Ash.

I Want to Write Something So Simply

I want to write something
so simply
about love
or about pain
that even
as you are reading
you feel it
and as you read
you keep feeling it
and though it be my story
it will be common,
though it be singular
it will be known to you
so that by the end
you will think—
no, you will realize—
that it was all the while
yourself arranging the words,
that it was all the time
words that you yourself,
out of your heart
had been saying.

—Mary Oliver

When I published my essay about Ash in Slate last summer, the most I dared hope was that it might help other families in similar circumstances feel less alone. I did not expect to be invited to the White House, or to receive powerful letters and messages from people around the world, or to be able to finally get the attention of our school district’s leaders. That was all icing on the cake.

But now, in a pinch-me-is-this-real development, I suddenly have the opportunity to write a book about child/adolescent/young adult mental health. As I am not an expert, I will be pairing with a true expert, our special education advocate for Ash, Dr. Kristen Eccleston. We are envisioning a series of case studies, punctuated with advice and resources for families and caregivers of kids struggling with mental health disabilities.*

This is very exciting! Unbelievably, wonderfully, exciting! And also time consuming. And so I am going to be taking a break from this labor of love, because my cup already runneth very much over, and I can only focus on one significant writing project at a time (plus, you know, parenting and working and spending time with Ben and caring for my dad and housekeeping and pet wrangling). I will try to be back from time to time, because I love having this space to share my ramblings with you, you wonderful (patient!) people. But I cannot write regularly for a while. I hope you understand.

Before I sign off, I am thrilled to share - finally!!! - a positive update about Ash. Completely by accident, while we waited for the district to place her in a permanent and appropriate school, we agreed to a temporary placement in a public school program housed at a middle school not far from our house. Designed for kids on the autism spectrum, the program did not seem at first like anything more than a way-station on this arduous journey.

But - to our surprise and amazement - the combination of dedicated and loving teachers, tiny class sizes, great counselors, and Ash’s exceptional ability to make friends with just about anyone, turned out to be exactly what she needed. She had a few rough months in the fall, primarily, I believe, because it was possible that any day she might be pulled out and sent to a brand new school - but once she started trusting that she might be able to stay, she settled in happily.

And so, last month, when we finally were able to have a meeting with all of the relevant district personnel (we spent a couple of months being tossed back and forth between offices like a pickleball, to my complete aggravation), the district happily agreed to keep her in her current placement. It probably helped that - unbelievably - there is not a single school in the region that is designed for kids like Ash. But whatever the reason, after a year and a half of struggle, we not only had a real placement for Ash, but also a tentative commitment from the district to offer the remedies we requested to compensate for the many months that they denied Ash an education.

At the same time, we finally found a therapist and intensive therapy program that seem to be working for Ash. She’s learning important skills and has both a private therapist and a school counselor who support her and understand her. There are too many dark moments still, but we can see the light coming through the cracks, and that is enough.

So that is where we are right now. I will not attempt to predict anything about the future, but for the first time in many years, the present feels pretty solid. I am not complaining.

That is all, for now. Please do not hesitate to reach out, and I hope to be back here reasonably soon, with something interesting to tell you. Be well.

*Please send me a message if you would be willing to share your story, anonymously of course. We are looking for families with a broad range of experiences supporting and raising kids with mental health disabilities.

Hellebore blooming and budding in my garden, February, 2024. Photographed by Ash.