Our Ideas for Highly-Sensitive Transitioning

Zeb

Moving, traveling or any other major changes and transitions are hard enough for kids, but for a highly-sensitive child, they really start to feel impossible. In my last post I explained our biggest part of helping him transition – the emotional aspect. But there are others things we’re trying to do to help him, as well. If you’ve read either The Highly Sensitive Person or The Highly Sensitive Child and my thoughts on it, you’ll have a better understanding of where we’re coming from.

Our main concerns are unfamiliarity, overstimulation and nearly constant transitioning during travel, all of which are skills he’s still learning.

Packing and Sorting

We have pretty limited space in a 22 ft RV. But since Zeb forms deep attachments to things that he loves, there are serious accommodations we’re making for him.

He’s surprisingly willing to let go of a lot of things. But there are some things he really wants to take: Yu-Gi-Oh cards, a few Ren Fair items, his bike and most importantly (and space-consuming) his LEGO collection. If you’ve seen what was once called his bedroom you’d understand the challenge; it’s so full of Lego creations and layouts that it’s referred to as The Lego Studio. (No joke. He will correct you if you call it a bedroom. He takes his passions seriously.)

First, and most obviously, while packing up the house we’re saving his room for last. No cleaning, no sorting, no packing, no moving of his things until the last possible moment. While the rest of the house is in various states of disarray, he continues to have a steady, quiet place to center himself and escape the stimulation. (More on this in a minute.) Several days before it’s time to tackle his room, we’ll give him a heads up so he can have plenty of time to prepare himself for it.

We’ve allotted the two bench seats in the dining area of the RV as his own to be used as “toy boxes”. They will undoubtedly be filled with as many Legos as possible. There will also be a few totes above the cab for anything else he’d like to take. Justin and I are condensing our own things as much as possible and finding creative places to store things, so that Zeb can take as many of his familiar things as possible.

Familiarity is the key here. We want him to have resources that give him time to center himself on the road, especially as he can’t do that very well in unfamiliar and overstimulating surroundings. We’re hoping being surrounded by his favorite things will smooth the transition. (If necessary, we’ll find space in the trailer we’ll be towing for anything we can’t fit in the RV.)

His comfort during all of this is just as, if not more, important as ours.

Keeping It Together

Saying he doesn’t handle overstimulation well would be an understatement. It’s a challenge for me with a lifetime of highly-sensitive practice. What I don’t want him to become reliant on is shutting down. It’s coping, not avoiding, that are lasting skills.

But there is only so much a 10 year old can handle, so it’s still our job to maintain some semblance of a routine. Um, yeah. Not easy right now. But crucial to his well-being. So we still gather for dinner. We carve out time for movie nights. We read together before bed. We force ourselves to meet with friends, have dinner with family, play games.

We listen to music during the hectic days. We clean the kitchen daily. We clean the house weekly. We keep plenty of snacks and simple lunches around so that he can help himself whenever he wants something.

Part of his coping mechanism needs a bit of avoidance and I have to remind myself that during these extenuating circumstances avoidance isn’t just normal, it’s necessary. He spends a large amount of his day in his room, playing computer games and Legos and talking on the phone with friends. He even locks his door as a way to ensure fewer abrupt intrusions into his “safe zone”. When he’s not in his room, he’s playing video games or watching Netflix in the living room. It’s constant. It’s sometimes annoying. But I’m reminding myself that it is not only temporary, it’s necessary to his ability to handle everything right now. (He’s also trying to enjoy the things we won’t have in the RV – like rentals or Wii games…or privacy. Just another way he’s transitioning from one place to another.)

Transitioning On The Road

This is something I’ve thought a lot about. It will take a lot of experimenting to find ways to avoid overstimulation, maintain some amount of privacy and respect boundaries in such a small space. And considering how many places we want to visit and things we want to experience on the road, the constant transitioning will certainly be trying.

One serious plus to traveling in the RV is that no matter how our outside environment changes, we’ll always have the same comfortable place to retreat to. Not long ago, I spoke to a self-proclaimed “mild agoraphobic”  who traveled in an RV full-time; she said she had no problem traveling because she was essentially always home! We’re hoping Zeb will find similar comfort during the constant change of scenery.

Here are some ideas I’ve had and that we’ll try implementing:

  • Fewer timelines: I already know it’s going to be a challenge for Justin and I to remember to slow down. But having Zeb be our main guiding force as to how long we stay or how quickly we move on will help. If he’s overwhelmed or overstimulated, we’ll settle in for a bit. If he’s uncomfortable where we are, we’ll head out.
  • Finding peaceful places: We hope to avoid the energy of busy campsites and RV parks as much as possible. We want to find quiet, beautiful places to stay or boondock. Places with views or trails will likely be important so that anytime one of us needs privacy, we have options for hiking or just sitting outside.
  • Headphones: With three laptops, numerous computer games, a passion for YouTube and a small space, I’m going to be encouraging headphones quite a lot to help keep things less stimulating (quiet) for everyone. :)
  • Staying connected: Keeping him in touch with family and friends is a must. We plan to shift to one cell phone with unlimited minutes (or a “family circle”), and we’ll have mobile internet, as well as Skype. We’ll also be visiting many, many family and friends around the country.
  • Familiar places: Not only will our RV be filled with familiar and comforting things, we’re also attempting to create familiarity wherever we go. We’ll have a membership to nationwide children’s museums, on the rare occasion we eat out it will likely be a national chain with an environment and menu he is familiar with, and we plan to stop to visit family we’ve stayed with, as well as places we’ve seen before. Apart from farmer’s markets, we’re also hoping to find Trader Joe’s and Whole Foods as often as possible so that we can find familiar foods.
  • Giving him the reigns: We all feel best when things don’t feel completely out of our control. As much as possible, and as much as he desires, we’ll have him decide things like which road to take, which city to explore, what to have for dinner, where to stay, etc. I want him to feel like an active, important part of this adventure, not a bystander being dragged behind our crazy ideas. As we look for a new community, his input will likewise be essential.

For those wondering about my own sensitivities and the moving/traveling, the easy explanation is that I enjoy change more than most people and I’m also much more adept at knowing what I need and taking plenty of “time outs” away from everything to regroup when necessary. Also a few of the suggestions above are just as much for my benefit as Zeb’s (headphones, peaceful environments…not to mention helping him will really help us all). How I’ll actually do on the road, however, is anyone’s guess.

Note: All of this was written before we left for Death Valley on Sunday. We just got back this afternoon from a two day trip and as soon as I’ve cleaned up, I’ll blog about how our ideals stacked up to actuality, what we need to work on and a whole lot of other thoughts on our first *successful* Maiden Voyage.

Read more: Highly Sensitive Transitioning: Before The Move

Transitioning (Phase One)

If New Year’s was the commencement of our transitioning out of the house and into the RV, we’re about one-third of the way in.

There is still a lot to do and I fluctuate between doing well and feeling claustrophobic under a suffocating pile of Tasks. But if I’ve planned it well, I’m still on track. And that amazes me.

At the beginning, I made a list of every room that needed sorting, every task that needed attention, every To Do that needed To Doing. Then I looked at my calender and counted the weeks between now and Then (“Then” being “The Big Day”, the day we move). And I divied up the list, a little bit for each week. Six weeks to sort, 2 weeks to sell, one weekend to say goodbye. March 1st: We leave.

And it’s been surprising how well it’s worked. It doesn’t matter what next week holds, I only look at this week. When I’m done, I’m done for the week and I can goof off. If I think of something that needs to be handled, it gets scribbled in this or another week.

Another secret of my “success” comes from FlyLady and was brought back to my attention by Hillary. Putting on shoes in the morning makes all the difference. (So does showering and getting dressed actually. Who knew?)

But that’s all the detail-oriented transitioning. The mental transitioning has been a different sorta beast.

Somewhere along the line – I’m not exactly sure where – I let go of my attachment to our stuff.

I took a great, deep breath and asked myself if every time I see these things, do they make me smile? Does it hold some special meaning, have a real and practical use, or would it be difficult to replace (or even need replacing)? The answer is almost always “No”.

I looked at the boxes sitting in my garage from my decluttering last summer and I can’t for the life of me remember what is in them. I try to recall what is in a particular room and only the truly important things come to mind.

My home has become filled with the inconsequential.

And when I look forward to the possibilities that await us, nothing inconsequential has a place in our journey.

And there it was; that magical place of unattachment to what doesn’t truly matter.

We are starting over. We’re discarding the things that don’t properly represent us – and you’d be surprised how much that is. I’m not sure how I got to this place of feeling so underrepresented in my own home but it hardly matters. I can recognize it for what it is and I’m not going to find myself here again. Those questions will remain my guiding force.

So, we sort. We pack what will be stored and move what will be taken and leave in place all that we will sell (about 95%). And it’s liberating and peaceful. In fact, the further I get the more at peace I feel.

What we're storing so far
3 weeks and 3 rooms down and this is all that is being stored so far:
some books, photo albums, ornaments and some keepsakes.

What we're taking so far
Part of the 1% we’re taking on the road:
games, art stuff, movies (in the CD case), sewing and knitting.

Through all this, we’re trying to enjoy what we will truly miss: time spent at the park with our unschooling community, playdates and sleepovers with friends, dinners and afternoons and time with family. We’re also getting through library lists and our book series and the Netflix movie queue and video game goals. And we’re finishing up projects – a childhood dollhouse for my nieces, Zeb’s Lego creations and a business venture of mine.

Some days I’m motivated and accomplishing. Other days (like today) I stay in my pajamas and putter around. Some days it’s surreal; others it’s as if this is normal, everyday life. Everyday has at least a little piece of joy.

Yesterday, while Zeb went to the movies with his Gramma, Justin and I went on a lunch date. We talked about social expectations, the hidden messages we received as children and what we are imparting to our own. We talked about what success really means – both now and on the road – and how we will be below the poverty line. And we talked about what we hope to find on the road. Both of us have the same answer: Ourselves.

And so we created a focus. To question our motives, to remain in the moment, to allow self-discovery to occur. And whether we’re broken down in the middle of nowhere or having a Grand Adventure in the middle of somewhere, we’re going to Allow the moment to impart its wisdom. If we begin to lose our focus, we’ll shift  – shift our actions or shift our perspective – until it meets our intentions again.

We’ve stumbled across the opportunity of a lifetime. It would be heart-breaking to waste it.

Reflections of a Time in Flux

Every New Year’s I can look back and sum up the entire year in one word or phrase.

2007 was about Letting Go and Trusting. It was the year I sold my business, the year we embraced unschooling, the year my perspective as a parent changed for the better. It was also the year I lost my dad. And really started to find myself. I think it will always feel like the year my life – my authentic life – started.

2008 was all about Judgment. It was a tough year but I can honestly look back on it with appreciation. It was the year my dreads went in and I learned so much about the judgment of others. There were others choices I made that year – choices I thought I’d never make – that taught me no person nor their decisions can ever be known or understood fully and therefore judgment (in the meanest form of the word) has little place in my heart. It was a hard year. But I feel I’m a better person for experiencing all of 2008.

path at Red Springs
One of my favorite photos/places of the year.

Looking back at 2009, all I can see is Change. Obviously the last four months have been an unprecedented upheaval. But it started long before that with our plans and Justin’s prediction. It makes for a strange year in retrospect – as if we lived the entire thing in limbo, looking forward while being stuck in (what felt like) our past: the place we’ve always been and don’t want to be anymore.

We changed our entire home, changed dust to real soil, changed our minds a dozen times.

And finally we made the choices that will ultimately change our lives and bring about so much unknown change, it’s overwhelming.

Another word that could describe this year for me is Acceptance. Accepting that which I cannot change and have no control over. Specifically in one area. Although it’s still a work in progress, I’m accepting that pregnancy is not going to happen for us. Seven years and enough losses to still hurt, and I’m ready to let go. Hindsight’s perfect vision is the most difficult here, seeing choices I would have made differently “if I’d only known then...” But I can only spend so much time in painful retrospect while life goes on without me. It’s time to accept what is and move on.

I don’t know what next year will bring, although definitely more change and likely some adventures are in store. There are things I’ll be looking and hoping for – community, connection, direction. But I’m not going to attempt to nail down next year’s purpose. The possibilities are too vast. Instead, I’m trying to remain open to what the road will bring and allow it unfold how it will.

To all of you I’ve “met” through this blog and hope to soon meet in person, I wish you all a phenomenal and memorable 2010.

And may our lives continue to intersect in extraordinary and meaningful ways.

Urban Homesteading

I’ve been working hard at stepping towards sustainability. I think I’m just too fed up with feeling disconnected from the Earth, from my food, from Life. It’s hard to remain connected in this city but I figure even if I have to go at it alone, I’m going.

  • I created the blog to share tips with newbies to the green movement.
  • I started catching sink run-off to water outdoor plants.
  • I capture shower water to use in the toilet now (I hate the idea of flushing clean water!).
  • I’ve started home baking our breads.
  • I’ve ditched the dryer and hung up our clothesline (one outdoors and one indoors on a retractable line for things I don’t want the business complex behind me to see).
  • I already keep our A/C at 82 during the summer (Yes, even when it’s 118 outside!).
  • I’m looking into purchasing a solar cooker. Excited for this one!!
  • I’ve planted most of the veggies and herbs we eat so that we can stop purchasing from a grocery store which imports food from out of state.
  • I’ve stopped buying new and opted for used through Freecycle or thrift stores.
  • I’ve learned how to sew and I already crochet.
  • I crochet the stash of old plastic bags into new bags.
  • I only shop with canvas bags and refuse plastic, even if that means carrying what I buy.
  • I’ve started cutting my own bangs and am allowing the rest of my hair to grow.
  • We’re downsizing to one vehicle! (In the market for an SUV?)
  • We’ve stopped using chemical pesticides and cleaners.
  • We power down as often as possible and use rechargeable
  • We combine shopping trips and errands to save gas and walk when possible. I’m even considering learning how to ride a bike. Eek!
  • I’m hoping to emulate Path to Freedom in whatever way I can.
  • I will be switching to a corded phone once these cordless phone batteries finally die.
  • I’ve got my compost pile (finally!) working.
  • I’m looking into rain barrels (for all of four inches of rain a year) and reusing our washer water.
  • We’ve switched to a vegetarian diet (lacto-ovo).
  • I’ve switched from face products to baking soda, apple cider vinegar and olive oil (with great results!!).
  • I’m sewing my own curtains using only natural materials and reclaimed wood and small fallen tree branches for curtain rods!
  • I’ve started a Sustainability group for people in my city.
  • I’ve joined several homesteading/sustainability groups for ideas from other like-minded individuals.
  • I’ve joined the Urban Homesteaders web ring (lower left side) started by Path to Freedom.

What else can I do? I’m open to suggestions!


Our makeshift clothesline and compost in the corner.
Our contained garden (does not include our fruit trees or our soon-to-be planted cherry tomatoes, watermelon, cantaloupe, pumpkin or potatoes).


Our grape vine…with a nice shot of the biz complex behind us so you can see just how urban our homestead is.

What a year!

Feeling a bit relaxed today, I found myself clicking through through my some of my old poems and stumbled across this one written last New Year’s. Talk about a self-fulfilling prophecy. 2007 has certainly unfolded itself in ways unimaginable but joyfully spectacular.
The last couple of months have been an odd blur. Not the usual face-paced movement of the sun that we all complain about as New Years rolls around. This feels different. Unexplainable. But then again I feel different. I am different. I’m no longer the overly-structured clean freak I once was. I have hobbies and aspirations that don’t hold a promise of making money. My house is even slightly unorganized (I think I just heard my mom gasp). I don’t care about arriving early for the event or making first impressions. And I find it fantastic that my child doesn’t follow orders!

Oh reading all that – especially the last one – just made me laugh. That’s another change. I laugh more. I also watch TV and spend less time in front of my computer (did you know I use to spend no less than 12 hours a day on the computer?!). And I have a new haircut that makes me look more like I feel – my client put it best when she said “It doesn’t make you look young; you are young. It makes you look…spunky.” Lookie here! I’m spunky!
I think 2007 is my favorite year. Only to be topped by 2008. I use to hate resolutions. They seemed arbitrary and unfulfilling if done simply because the calendar changes. But now I see it not as something I “should do”, but more of a way to move my life forward.
Last year I “gave up” soda. This year I’m focusing on gaining, not giving up. Knowledge (learning to play harmonica, sew, knit), experience (trying new things, going new places) and forgetting all the rules (but one). Yes, even the rules I’ve set for myself.
I have lived within my chosen parameters for so long, constantly reminding myself what I want to do and not do. Say/eat/do this, don’t say/eat/do that. I realized that I often worry so much about doing things “right” that I fail to do much at all. I try to be the perfect parent, instead of just being there and having fun. I try to eat the perfect food, instead of just listening to my body and :gasp: occasionally indulging in total trash (or pork). Almost every decision I’ve made recently has been earmarked with too much damn forethought.
So as odd as it sounds, I’m going to stop thinking so much. Oh, I’m sure I’ll still gonna live up to my “Organic Sister” name, and I’m sure I’ll still always be improving myself. But it just won’t be my primary focus. My primary focus is just to live and have fun and throw convention out the window and knock societal obligations on its butt. Like Miranda said, I’m going to widen my box a bit. I don’t want to live inside an unschooling label, a health nut label, a neurotic label. I just wanna live.
Oh and that “one rule” that I mentioned up there: Love. That’s it. That is the only parameter I’m holding myself within. If it’s not loving or I don’t love it, I’m not doing it. It feels like another step into “letting go”. Sheesh, what more is there to let go of?