Ben's current favorite book is a collection of word searches. He hunts for the string of letters that spell a word, and although he is not inclined to circle them as proof like some folks do, he is satisfied to have solved it. 

 

A few days ago, Benjamin was hollering downstairs. This is a rare occurrence of late, and I was surprised, but not concerned. John was willing to leave our marriage group zoom to go check on him, and in a few minutes things were quiet. 

 

"He did not get his morning pills, and he didn't get them last night either," John whispered. He remedied the oversight, as well as put breakfast within reach. 

 

I marveled not only that our lives have arrived at such balance, but that even a small slip up has consequences. The medications in Ben's boxes are smaller than my thumbnail, and yet they impact his 180 pound body with remarkable sway. 

 

People are such complex organisms, with their fluctuating hormones, and blood sugar spikes. How is it possible that much of the time we function at all? Most people are not evaluated by a psychiatrist with their arsenal of meds, which is a relief. And yet, having seen Ben struggle, I want to offer a wide berth of compassion for anyone whose body waffles from invisible forces. I do not know what hormones look like under a microscope, but I am familiar with the fury that erupts, or used to erupt, under our roof. 

 

Bless you, if you have no idea why you are feeling askew. I have a hug for you, no questions asked. Some things can be solved that way.