Everything is Fine, So Why Can't I Breathe?

Everything is fine.  It is.  I should be able to breathe.  There shouldn't be a knot in my throat, or my stomach.  I shouldn't be bursting into tears with little or no warning.  Nothing happened. 

But yesterday, I didn't know.  Yesterday, for a long, endless hour, I just didn't know.

My son texted me, asking me to pick him up from school.  His exam was over, and it was too late for him to get the bus to his afternoon program.  Okay, I could do that, and I texted him back, that I was on my way.  I heard a text come in while I was driving, but I don't check texts while I'm driving.  I pulled into the school parking lot, and entered the school office, as I checked my phone.  "Hello?" was his message.  I guessed he thought I was taking too long.  Oh well, it takes as long as it takes.

He wasn't there waiting.  That was strange.  "I'm here," I texted.  I sat down to wait.  No answer.  No boy.  I waited.  I started to get fidgety.  I tried to call.  My call went straight to voicemail.  This wasn't good, and I was starting to get nervous.  It has been years since the boy has taken off, but that sort of thing doesn't disappear from a mother's memory - it's almost a physical memory, and physical memories are, apparently, among the most intense memories we have.  I'm trying to stay calm.  He is, after all, not really a child anymore.  I ask the receptionist something about whether they've seen him.  She offers to make an "all school" announcement. "Sure," I say, trying not to sound too desperate.  She makes the announcement.  I wait.  No boy.  I try calling again.  Voicemail.  She tries calling the last teacher he was with: nothing.  She tries the announcement again; still nothing.  I text again.  Nothing. She tries his guidance counselor; she's not in.

Finally, feeling myself starting to panic, while no one at school seems to think there's anything that they are supposed to do anything about, I decide I should leave.  Maybe he left school, unnoticed (he does have a history, after all), and headed home.  I tell the receptionist I'm going to go home in case that's where he went.  I ask that if he shows up, she have him call me.  She says she will (I'm not so sure).  I wonder, silently, why school doesn't seem concerned about a student going missing.

I drive home, eyes mostly on the sides of the road, trying to see my boy, who isn't there.  He's not home, either.  And there's still no message.  I try calling him again and again.  By now, he should have gotten home, even walking the three miles.  My mind goes to very dark places.  He's been very stressed.  There have been a lot of assignments that he's had trouble dealing with.  It's exam week.  Maybe he tried walking to his afternoon program, 15 miles away?  That would be too foolish, wouldn't it? Not only is it too far, but the route involves a highway, which prohibits pedestrians.  By this point, I was feeling nauseous.

I kept calling, Occasionally, I got a few rings before the phone went to voicemail.  I found this oddly reassuring - at least he hadn't turned off his phone; he'd merely been in a dead zone.  

Finally, I got a text!  "I just got your texts. I'll be right down."  Aaarrrggghhh!  I was SO relieved! And had so many questions. And was just a bit (!) p'ed off.  I texted back that I was coming back to get him, and would be there soon.

I hugged him many times yesterday.  I made it clear (again) that if he doesn't hear back when he texts something important, he needs to do some follow up (call, check his phone reception, etc.).  I also explained how much he scared me!  He had trouble understanding at first, when I was telling him how this tapped into the stuff from when he was younger, and when his sister was younger, and how it triggered a lot of "stuff."  Then he said, "like PTSD?"

Like PTSD.

So, I guess I'm flashing back, and it totally sucks. And I know he's fine.  And she's fine.  And I guess I will be fine, but right now, I'm not feeling quite so fine ... there's this old stress, combining with this new stress that triggered some "stuff," and sometimes, we "special needs moms," just get caught by surprise, and it's HARD.