In the air

Into the Wilderness: Story 14

Up in the air, Catina’s hand clenched in mine, we wondered about the future. Catina was eager to get to her RTC, though we had yet to sign an agreement with the new RTC. FAPE state law requires a 10-day notification to public school of unilateral placement. Our lawyer had submitted the letter and we would not commit until Catina had seen it and walked the grounds. They had accepted her application, so the final decision was ours to make.

La Europa is an arts-focused residential treatment center. It provides regular schooling as well as various kinds of individual and group therapy. It also incorporates the arts into healing, providing dance, music and the visual arts as an outlet. The school was filled with talented girls- ballerinas, musicians, artists. One of my favorite parts of LEA was the talent show the girls performed for their parents at the end of every parents’ workshop. The girls worked months on their routines, building confidence in themselves and their capabilities.

On the plane, Catina and I colored together. I had planned for any kind of breakdown or anxiety attack, bringing with me cards, coloring books and pencils, a journal, magazines, and snacks. I didn’t know how she would react to being in an enclosed space after months of open sky.

Thankfully, she was just fine- delightful, self-assured, focused on self-care. Teens come out of wilderness at a high level of functioning. The intensity is truly an emotional and psychological reset. Catina napped, watched movies, colored, snacked. She was happy.

She was so calm and centered that she ended up comforting me. The most disturbing moment of our trip was not from an emotional breakdown but from a rude fellow passenger.

We landed in Houston, and storms delayed the next leg of our trip to Denver, where we would change for a short hop to Salt Lake. If we missed our connection, the last flight out, we’d have to stay overnight in Denver, an unexpected glitch in our tightly scheduled journey. Thankfully, the storms cleared, but we had left Houston over an hour late.

On the trip to Denver, Catina sat by the window and I sat on the aisle. We were unable to get Chuck a seat across from me, and instead, he sat a few rows down. We would have to run to our next gate, and we had carry-on luggage. Chuck would need to grab the overhead luggage for us- Catina and I are both short.

When we landed and taxied to the gate, I popped out of my seat the moment the ding gave us permission. Catina was still putting on her shoes. Behind me, a man pushed forward, complaining he had a connection. Of course, so did we. As soon as Catina had her shoes on, she tried to enter the aisle next to me. The man wouldn’t let her. She squeezed behind him. This man was big and tall- well over six feet and beefy. I asked him if he’d let my daughter around him to stand with me. His answer: no. Catina reached around him to grab my hand. So I tried to explain: she has anxiety and needs to be next to me. Again: no. And more. He told me I was one of those women who thinks she has a right to everything. This time I wasn’t getting what I wanted.

And this is when Catina made me proud. She pushed him aside and said, “I need to be by my mother.” She squeezed past and grabbed hold of me. We held tight. That’s when I knew we would be alright. We would make it to Salt Lake. We would make it through this journey.

And sure enough, we deplaned. Our next gate- Denver is a large airport- turned out to be right next to where we landed. We ran. The plane had waited for us. We boarded, the doors closed and we were up in the air again.

Arriving in Utah well after midnight, we went straight to the hotel and fell in bed. The whole journey had felt like a triumph. We had left Georgia, and the wilderness, behind. We were starting the next phase, another phase of healing and hope.

I have written those words a lot- healing and hope. Numerous challenges and sorrows aside, this entire experience always was attached to those words, like a lantern casting its glow into the dark night. We stumbled, retreated, walked forward, stumbled again. But always, we kept walking toward the light.