Gail, my mental health professional, told me on Saturday that sometimes spending time with some people with "issues" is like visiting a war zone.
She explained that children who live in war-torn countries don't know any other way of life. They are seen playing outside their ramshackle huts as bombs are going off overhead and houses are exploding all around them. Still, they run and laugh and often don't seem fazed at all.
The term for this is accommodation. The children have accommodated to this way of life because it’s all they’ve ever known. This is normal to them.
For ten years, I feel as though I’ve been looking around at some people wondering why no one is noticing the jets flying overhead or the bullets flying. Feeling like the bad guy for pointing it out to an otherwise content clan. Wondering why no one says it out loud. Wondering why some people are so damn angry all the time.
And yesterday, finally, Drew had the courage to say it out loud to some people and to say he will take no more of it. He has made a decision to care for himself and our family in a way I didn't anticipate, but have been hoping for for years.
I hope it helps. All of us.