Raising Bipolar

Rye started at the new school today.

The new school is very different from the old school.  The old school enrolls primarily upper-middle class students who come from families where both parents went to college, have corporate or professional jobs and live in very large, shiny new houses in planned subdivisions.  The kids are very competitive and can be very cruel.  They are exclusive by nature and are intolerant of differences.  These are the kids I grew up with.

The old school population looks like this (No, not really. But this picture is so creepy I just had to use it):

The new school population, on the other hand, looks like this:

The new school enrolls primarily average, middle class, rural kids.  Kids who don’t all come from perfect families.  Kids who have seen their families struggle and have seen adversity of circumstance.  Kids who know what it is like to do without.  Kids whose families generally value land, animals, agriculture, God and wide open spaces (and yes, this is a romantic generalization but you get the picture).

The two schools are only miles apart, yet they are very different in nature.

And the new school is exactly where Rye wants to be.  This is where he feels comfortable.  This is where his long time friends are.  As he said to me this morning, “This is where I was raised.”  And as we walked in the school and got the tour we heard Rye’s name shouted throughout the hallways as his friends saw him walk through and were elated to see him there.  They were excited to have him home with them. It was great.

Now why, you might ask, was he not already at this school if this is where all of his friends are, where he feels comfortable etc.?  Well, because I am an idiot.  When I was growing up I went to very expensive, private college-prep schools – all the way through school (K-12).  So, naturally I thought when given the opportunity in middle school for Rye to go to a school that is new and fancy and shiny and with more upper-middle class kids, I thought it must be better.  I thought, he needs to go there!  And so he did.

What a mistake.

You see, Rye and I are very different.  He has grown up in a rural community.  I did not.  He has significant learning disabilites.   I did not.  He has processing disorders that greatly effect how he interpretes the world.  I did not.  He has issues with emotion regulation.  I did not. We have different needs.  And what worked for me does not work for him.   I know this now with certainty.

Anyway, as we waved goodbye to the old school today Rye looked at me and said,

There’s a party in my brain!  I can feel the good sensations pumping through my brain and it feels great!  I am so happy!

So, there it is.  A party in the brain.

It’s a good start.