Looking For Calm

The mood in the car shifted. Was it a change in the morning plan or had his brain just latched onto something to worry about? The anticipation of junior high is looming large- I wouldn’t go back there for all the money in the world- but I can’t tell my almost thirteen year old son that. He is three weeks away from school commencing, and even on vacation in a remote, beautiful part of Vermont, he cannot escape his ever constant anticipatory anxiety. I looked into the back as my husband was parking the van and my son had that look, the one that shows visible signs of angst, furrowed brow, pale, peaked and slightly pained look on his face. The one that reveals that his anxiety is all consuming. He typically reaches this point and is close to throwing up, which makes him feel better, almost in an instant. A long nap follows, and then he is back ready to take on the day, or the next one, depending on how long he needed to sleep off this round of worry. ” Do you want me to take you back to the condo, ” I asked. He mumbled no and dragged himself from the back seat. I think the fresh air will make you feel better.” Selfishly I wanted to hike, we had found and completed this hike two years before and the view from the summit was breathtaking. I knew that my son would feel better once we started moving and perhaps he could escape his worrying, if only temporarily , enough to help the nausea subside and find solace in the beauty and wonder of this place.
So we began to walk. Having his sister near him always makes him feel better and after about a half a mile, a slight trace of a smile was visible. But not on the inside, I know my boy well enough to know that he was working really hard at putting the worry aside and focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. Was he doing this to try and please me? Was I pushing too hard? He has always been a good hiker, deliberate and cautious but with a confidence that does not exude in some of the other facets of his life. Is it the freedom of the outdoors that allows this almost swagger in the woods? Or is it that he does not have to interact with other kids his age, and he can be alone in his thoughts? We reached the summit a little over an hour later. He had walked well ahead of the three of us, and I found him at the top with his head between his knees. I wondered for a moment if he would make it down the rather steep incline and large rocks we had just scaled. I don’t recall his having thrown up on a mountain side before. There have been other places of course, in the car, outside the car, in the hallway and bathrooms at school, the toilet at home next to his bedroom? Probably the most comforting place, only steps from his bed, where he can lay his head to rest after he has vomited what little remains in his stomach.
We did make it down, the pace was a little slower, and we stopped every five or six minutes to rest. Looking back during these stops, I saw my son bending over slightly, hands on his knees, taking small drinks of water from his Camelback. How does he muster the will to keep moving? But move he did and he asked me several times about some of the remaining landmarks along the path. The large constructed tee-pee, pile of rocks and small stream each served as a marker to pass before this hike was finally over.
He had not been in the car more than four minutes, when I peeked over my shoulder to see him asleep, with his head resting gently side of the door window open blowing air onto his sweaty head. I marvel at his resilience sometimes. His ability to stick with something- this climb no different-yet the question remains how to hold onto these moments of strength when overcome by the next round of crippling anxiety. I ask myself this each day, and I pray that he will find tools to help and that he will continue to climb even when it hurts.