A series of weird museums and the misery of mental illness

Today was a weird, hard day. I cried three times. Alex didn't cry but was pretty miserable most of the day. He's fatigued from his leg pain and his daily struggle to be present and free from anxiety and depression. Granted, Alex feels that way at home too, but here he is forced into the world and into new environments where he must interact with people and be social. I think, in retrospect, this trip has been one long therapy session for him and he's ready to be done. His thoughts are about movies he wants to see at home, video games he wants to play and his room, where he can hole up from the world. In contrast, I'm mourning the end of the trip, trying to savor every last minute. So our motivations conflict, causing friction and frustration.

This morning, we breakfasted at home, eating pastries from the corner bakery. I love having a corner bakery. And a corner grocer. Corners. For every step of the getting ready process, Alex stalled, trying to squeeze out as much at home time as possible. We got into an agrument about it after the 4th request for just 5 more minutes, a clash we've had since he's been old enough to talk. But now, his delaying is about the reluctance to go outside as opposed to the reluctance to stay outside playing. 

We did head out around 11:00, off to the first of three weird museums of the day. The Musee Miniature et Cinema is a combination of old film special effects models and miniature room scenes, unrelated to film. It's an interesting place where you can find a Batman constume, old mock ups of the Washington D.C., story boards and more. It's housed in a tall building in old town, close to where we're staying. The top two floors had miniature rooms, beautiful and strange, made in 1 to 1/12 scale. Train depots, crumbling movie theaters, a 70s apartment, Renaissance streets and prisons all came to life in miniature. Both Alex and I thought this section was the best part of the museum. 

After our mini film experience, we had lunch that included both sweet and savory crepes. The mood was a bit tense, as I tried to convince Alex to come with me to the next destination. He wanted to head back to the apartment, and I felt it was too early to call it a day for him. He eventually agreed to go find the funicular to go up Fourviere hill and see the Roman ruins. There was a baby screaming on the tram ride, which created more tension and both Alex and I were feeling pretty lousy when we arrived at our destination. The ruins were really interesting. Alex chose to stay at the entrance to sit and ease the pain in his leg. And I explored for about 15 minutes. When I got back to Alex, he wasn't ready to head back, wanting to sit for another 10 minutes or so. It was frustrating for me, waiting for Alex to summon the will to move. On the way back down the funicular, it was clear we needed to talk out our emotions, so we went back to our apartment.

Here's where most of the crying happened. Alex expressed a lot of his emotions that have been keeping him trapped in his mind and not present in these beautiful places we've been visiting. He felt worried that maybe he didn't like to travel after all, even though he wished he did. He was preoccupied with negative thoughts about himself and struggled to ignore them. He was tired and beating himself up about not doing more to fix his back/leg problem before the trip. I felt completely exhausted from carrying both my responsibilities and Alex's for a large chunk of the trip. When we first started our journey, Alex was confident and taking care of his business. And now we've descended into the challenges that we regularly face at home. Without my encouragement and reminding, small things like showering, taking meds and cleaning up are not done. We talked about why this happens, what dynamic goes on between the two of us that lands us in this place all the time. And we agreed that it is the result of years of care taking that I did, probably often not helpful, as he was growing up. He had so many struggles as a kid, so many fears and instead of letting him fail more often, I helped. Too much help is the kind of help that we could have done without. Tears about this were shed. The day he was born, Alex almost died. He struggled from his first day in this world in so many ways. I took care of him, and now it's time for him to do it himself. That means that he and I must figure out how to transfer that responsibility. Sometimes he snatches it from me and other times he pushes it on me, and I do the same. It sounds a lot like the typical teenage rebellion period, and it kind of is, but it's much more complicated and nuanced, I think. And today, here in beautiful Lyon, we put 19 years of family baggage on the table and resumed the sorting process. I'm pretty sure there's someone's lost luggage in this huge pile somewhere. Message me if you're missing a bag.

After our mental health pit stop, Alex elected to stay in the apartment and I went to explore a couple more museums. I was mentally fragile and tired, but also determined to be in the city. My first stop was the Automation Museum, a small place that has several vignettes showcasing mechanical people. Schemes included a circus, Peter Pan and a 1600s village. The automated puppets were pretty creepy, especially their hair and faces. I enjoyed the museum but had to get out after feeling surrounded by the automotons. The second museum was a combo of Lyon's history and the history of puppets. That experience, too, gave me a bit of the willies. Puppets, when not puppeting, are creepy, especially marionettes. I spent another hour or so hanging with the puppets (see what I did there?) and then hastily toured the Lyon history portion of the museum before heading back to the flat with dinner provisions.

Upon my return, Alex was still struggling. We talked more, did breathing exercises and played Scrabble for a bit to help with his symptoms. It was just one of those days that he struggled with, beginning to end. And, as his brain wants to do, he feared that the rest of his days on the trip will be this way. I'm not worried that will happen, however, because I've heard this fear many times before and he will likely feel better tomorrow. Bet you didn't realize this blog would be almost more about illness, mental and otherwise, than touring Europe. Neither did I.