What's Going on in Utah?
I have been to Utah 6 maybe 7 times within a year. Coming from the Bay Area and driving to my destination some three hours northeast of Salt Lake City through what I refer to as an emotional landscape, Utah for many of us has become a confrontation especially when you are summoned.
Once I land in Salt Lake, I have my routine down. The airport is my last chance for a chai latte at Starbucks, I order up a tall for the road then grab some Krispy Kremes, (the olive branch I offer each time for whom I visit), and wrestle with Alamo to make certain the rental car has a satellite radio, then I am off. Leaving the airport, snow-covered jagged mountains only add to the drama seemingly preparing me for what lurks ahead, the wide-mouthed lakes and reservoirs help to calm my sense of urgency, and by the time I reach the high desert in NE Utah I am lost in wonder. Captivated by the light hitting ancient rock formations and the air (the air is spectacular here- it’s so – so – so je n’est quoi – I don’t know –so caressing and mystical in the same moment). It is the wonder that this land exudes that helps sustain me over the next few days.
For those of you who have yet to be apprised Utah is a veritable hot bed for therapeutic wilderness programs and therapeutic schools for our children- mostly young adult teen-agers who in some capacity decided to check out from their families, from school, from life. Disengaged and discouraged many parents as a desperate effort resolve to send their children to Utah, entrusting them to complete strangers with an unfettered sense of hope, a willingness to listen, to comprehend, and to maybe, just maybe, heal.
And as it was/is with me, over a year ago unbeknownst to my son, he was escorted to Second Nature Wilderness Program in the dead of winter shortly after Christmas 2010. Although Second Nature’s main offices are in Salt Lake City, our educational consultant matched my son with their program in Oregon. After spending nearly three months on the eastern side of the Cascades in the dead of winter, he was escorted to his current school in Roosevelt, Utah. (Escorted is an interesting choice of words I know, but when my son recalls this experience he will tell you, his escorts “were cool” and that “wilderness was an awesome experience”)
This is why I now have a slightly endearing relationship with Utah, my son is there.
I find it remarkable that Utah continues to bring many of us so-called progressive thinkers, PC parents, and well, tree-hugging yahoos to their state. Yes, to our disbelief Halliburton is welcomed there and yes they are drilling all over NE Utah’s pristine basin. Holiday Inn Express and Springhill Suites are popping up like McDonalds to accommodate ‘the oil people.’ Utah doesn’t mind, they are reaping the benefits of newly built schools and corporate America, just like Utah doesn’t mind being a safe place for our California kids.
Even more remarkable are the number of youthful therapists with their young families that choose to live in Utah and commit to helping our estranged children. Each therapist I have met is healthy and seems to be actively involved in one of Utah’s outdoor activities – cycling, kayaking, skiing, hiking, mountain climbing, and on it goes.
The Kripsy Kremes are devoured in seconds. My now 15-year-old son looks amazingly fit and healthy. Detoxed from IPhones, texting, World of Warcraft, angry rap music, and “medicinal marijuana” (30% THC- not addicting for our youth – my ass), we acknowledge that we both have changed. He is engaging, safe, and after the parent workshop has earned a 2-day pass with mom.
As far as I can tell most of the workshops center around what triggers us emotionally in ways that cause us to react negatively so that we can become aware of this behavior and obsentibly change unhealthy choices and reactions. They also center on fears –each of our fears, all of them. There is even a fear chart that is required homework for the students. Five maybe as many as seven fears need to be identified, from there looking how one either approaches a fear or avoids their fear ensues. Not your average high school, but these are not your average high school kids either. Any therapeutic boarding school will tell you their students have one quality in common—they are much more sensitive than the average kid and most are more intelligent. The coping skills and tools these kids are getting in Utah are life- changing and I now believe world-changing. Their emotional IQ’s are startlingly high. One can only imagine if a small percentage of the world’s population were taught how to approach their fears and cope with life’s emotional pains what a very different world we would all be experiencing.
There is not much to do in the basin, many therapeutic boarding schools are far removed and a reasonable distance from city life. They are designed that way. Most are out in nature and the idea when visiting is to spend most of your time communicating with your child, no matter how painful, joyful, or challenging. My heart strings are played upon, my buttons pushed, and my authority questioned. This is not easy and when the time comes to drop my son back at his boarding school I fight tears hard. It is always easy to hold them back when he has relapsed into blaming me for where he is, but when a mom sees the progress and catches a glimpse of the son she used to have, there is no stopping them. I try to wait until I get into the car, but in those moments my son sees my pain. It takes more than courage to leave your kid in Utah’s hands; it is an unexpected leap of faith. As I drive away I want so badly to bring him home, make roasted chicken and play dominos. I question my mothering and ruminate on parental decisions of days gone by . . . . . there is no one I want to call, no iTunes I want to listen to, I drive through my emotional landscape and let the magnificence and beauty of Utah surround me. It is not until I reach the outskirts of Salt Lake City that I turn on the radio where Tom Petty is Free Fallin’ and realize I am, too.
Stay true,
M