“5, 4, 3, 2, 1….. Happy New Year!”, was the enormous roar that blared from my television. It was another Dick Clark, New Year’s Rockin Eve special, ushering me into a brand-spanking new year, as it had done every single year since I was a child. Now it was doing the same in my adulthood with my child.
I must admit that I didn’t like the new year. It actually depressed me. It made me feel bad that life was moving on…at the speed of lightening. I wanted life to slow down or stand still so that I could breathe and work on things at my own lackadaisical pace. Also, I was getting older, but sadly Nate was getting older. And with my son growing up, there were serious and pertinent decisions to be made.
One decision that bothered me was Nate’s future plans after school. The thought of my baby graduating and becoming an adult scared me. I didn’t like the adult mental health system. I feared it. In my mind it was mean, uncaring, and far from friendly. If only Nate could stay young, sweet, and innocent and live at home with me, I would cry to myself.
So with every new year and it’s celebratory countdown, I became sad as I thought about my son, getting closer to jumping out of the child disability system to the adult disability system.
Yet as the years moved on, and it became apparent that life was moving forward with or without me, I had to adjust my attitude and my heart. I began to recognize that my dislike of the new year, was much more deeper. It was fear. I was deathly scared of change and I was lacking faith, that the years of Nate’s life was going to be beautiful and wonderful. I didn’t need to worry.
When I began to understand this, I realized that I needed to celebrate each year. I needed to look forward to it with happiness and great expectation.