I am sorry you are here in this difficult part of the ebb and flow. You are an example of grace to me.
Thank you Sam. It is what it is. That simple saying reverberates through my head. It is Gods grace that helps me through the darkest times. Everyone here is fighting the toughest battle, how to live well when we know our kids are in a dark battle of their own. You all
must know that I am completely indebted to you for the grace in which you handle your own situations. I am constantly reminded and in awe of the kindness and love here.
As scary as it was, I found it helpful to let myself immersively contemplate all the possibilities, at least once, rather than constantly bat them away as they intruded into my consciousness.
I have done this many a time. Contemplate the possibilities, also I have thought about what my two's potentials are, the ultimate Jiminy Cricket standoff, those old cartoons where an angel is by one ear, the devil, the other. Where there is life, there is hope. I do so hope that my two will find the good they have, and listen to that. Turn away from the devilish insidious whisperings of addiction and drug use.
She has observed that loving detachment always preceded positive change -- but did not guarantee it.
There are no guarantees in life. Period. The whole precept behind loving detachment is to no longer allow the chaos and drama infiltrate our homes, our daily lives,
our hearts. There is always that nagging voice, sometimes I can quiet it, sometimes it is a bit louder, okay
way louder.
I think what is happening to me is a
triggered response.
Conditioning.
We are creatures of habit.
The propensity to want to jump into action, to do
something,
anything, is so maternally, instinctively strong. Even more so after years and years of going from one catastrophic event, to another.
Put that oxygen mask on my child, before mine,
and I pass out from lack of air.
It is the swirly whirly.
Though not caught up smack dab in the center of it, the winds and torrents of emotion on the outskirts took me for a ride.
And to answer the question: "How do I remain loving for that guy?" before a new wave of disbelief, anger and shame could infect my empathy. The risks they take, make it so I am keenly aware of the clock ticking on my own behavior. I have to stay in a loving place even though I am afraid.
Staying in a loving place,
I am there Sam.
Today, I can say,
even if I do not seek out Tornado,
I am there.
Always will be. I have to make sure that any attempt at contact by me has to come from a place of strength,
not the five alarm fire bell ringing in my head.
In panic, and the sinking Titanic sized emotion conditioned response, I have
no clarity.
The FOG envelops decision making, and giant icebergs will take me down.
And even if there's hope behind the gesture, I know you can manage it. I just don't think it should be driven by the need to assuage dark thoughts.
Today, I am resigned to sit with my thoughts a bit more and figure out what I will do.
That's okay.
I am looking at my response to those words spoken by my son in law.
I broke down.
Literally was immovable for that moment and the day after.
Imagery of Tornado dancing through my head, all the dread and sadness reaching the core of me,
to going back to that center of grief in losing hubs.
I couldn't cry. Which, I think, is worse than crying.
Frozen.
It's weird, I dreamt last night that I was hiking in the mountains somewhere and came across a partially frozen ice pond, decided that I needed to go down and hike around the edge of it to move forward, only to be stuck below that rocky crag where I descended, stuck in the mud, sinking and legs freezing.
I think it is that tug in my heart that whispers in my ear every so often, "Lest I grow cold."
Lest I grow cold.
How many times have worried warrior parents written here
"How can I sleep in my warm bed, knowing that my child is out there, somewhere?"
It is the battle of "Lest I grow cold" over choices an adult child makes, the havoc it causes in our homes when we are pulling out all of the stops to try to “help”, verses realizing that’s not working for them or for us. I am reminded of the movie “Frozen”. Where everything the “ice queen” touches becomes iced over. That’s what happened in my home when my two were in and out. No respite, no epiphany for need to change, just an endless series of mayhem.
It became a matter of
us or them. Either I was going to stand up for peace and sanctity of my home, or they were going to continue to drag us down with them.
That’s not cold, that’s
reality.
I have to remind myself of this every time I stand at the edge of the swirly whirly, every time I read of a parents success at getting their adult child to rehab, counseling,
something. I have to remind myself that each and everyone’s circumstance is different and that I live in the land of “Been there, done that”.
Yes, I do feel at times that
I have grown cold to my two, in that place between enabling, detaching and loving.
In the FOG.
Fear, obligation and guilt.
What a trio.
Dark thoughts and that incredibly uncomfortable feeling that
something must be done, measured with whether that something,
or nothing equals love.
I have tried.
Tried until I was dazed and confused.
Thinking of those times when life was frenzied by my two, all of the resulting consequences pouring over my home, to the point where I just couldn’t
think anymore. I was in limbo, going through the motions, a ship with no compass, riding through storm after storm after storm.
It was no way to live.
Lest I grow cold.
I was dying inside, rigor mortis setting in, trying to figure out what to do about my two, while all along it was really their choice.
They would have their way, no matter what I did, or didn’t do.
They would drag all of us into the fracas.
That’s not cold heartedness, to see that and do something about it,
it’s reality.
I know I cannot have my two at home.
How can I sleep in my warm bed?
Why would I make myself suffer their consequences?
A sacrificial self flagellation?
My adult children suffer, therefore shall I?
Yet,
we do suffer.
My suffering does not change a bloody thing for them, and it is a ruination of what time I have left on this earth.
This song is going round my head.
Brother's got a problem.
My daughters have a problem, and that is addiction, drug use and the consequences.
It is heart and gut wrenching.
The talented musician who this song was written for, died of a drug overdose.
immersively contemplate all the possibilities,
This is a possibility for my two. That they OD. I can't save them from themselves. “No one else can help them but themselves.”
It doesn’t mean I will never try to see them.
At this time, I defer to a higher power. It is because I am not strong enough.
PThey will see this and pounce on it.
I understand slipping into the "dark" place.
Thank you RE. I don't think I would be human, if I didn't slip.
It is an enormous task to keep my head above water.
Some days not as difficult as others.
Sending prayers up for you and your family.
Mahalo nui, RE. Prayers are powerful.
It is a continual experience of letting go, of accepting, of learning to live in the remarkable uncertainty of our kids lives...isn't it?
Yes, it certainly is. I have to think not only of the "places they'll go", but also, the places I will.
In my heart, my gut, my head.
When our kids don't recover, don't "get it," don't get back on the straight and narrow, it seems to be a continual experience of letting go, continuing to accept what we can't change.....learning to exist in that uncertainty, in that chaos, in that powerlessness is so hard
It is a continual battle to deal with the ramifications, the desolate feelings over the choices my kids are making.
Zecariah 2:8-
The LORD of heavenly forces proclaims (after his glory sent me) concerning the nations plundering you: Those who strike you strike the pupil of my eye.
If God felt this way at the plundering of his people, how can we not feel devastated at times, over our own kids plundering themselves?
We are only human.
I am acknowledging my weakness and understand how news of my daughters situation is like a
strike to my eyeball.
Ouch, excruciatingly painful and debilitating.
I also acknowledge the unfinished proclamation my son in law was making.....paraphrased here “Your daughter is in a bad way.........(unspoken words———-“what are you going to do about it?)
Those unspoken words hang in the air constantly, as he has taken up the mission to connect with Rain somehow.
I have weekly news of her.
Thats good.
To know she is alive.
My son in law doesn’t understand why I don’t do
something. But that is for him to ponder.
all any of us can do is to learn to go with the shaking until it stops and then nourish and fortify ourselves for the next shakeup. In my experience, each shakeup gets a tad easier...
I can't do anything until my eyeball stops sending shockwaves of pain throughout my body.
No decision or action can be helpful, coming from this place.
I will wait until I can see clearly again. Pray on it and ask for guidance and fortification.
If anything can be learned from all of these years of turmoil, is that when the dust settles, it still is what it is.
It is still out of my control.
If I do decide to go down to that park, it has to come from a place of calm.
Hang in there Leafy.....our wagons are circled around you......we're all here for you.....you are definitely not alone....
Thank you RE. From the bottom of my heart.
Sometimes we overthink everything. Yes, there are good days and bad days.
Overthinking is my middle name, RN.
Hugs and prayers cuz that's all we got!
Yes, it is all we have got, but it is monumental. Thank you RN.
I do know that if I were with you I would hug you and say....this too shall pass it feels like it will kill us but it won’t. It will linger to torture us for more days to come.
Thank you LBL, yes, this too, shall pass. Hugs right back at you. Time heals. I need to heal and get back on my feet,
before I do anything.
I am circling the wagons for you Leafy.
Mahalo nui LBL.
But yes sit with your thoughts, use your tools. Calm your mind ask what would it benefit. She knows you love her, she knows how to seek help.
This is true. She does know. I have to throw away any fantasy that I am going to go down there on a white horse and rescue her. Or, that she will even receive me with open arms. Or, that she will even be there.
Sigh.
Another day in the battle.
It really is a battle within myself, to stand strong in the face of it all.
I honestly don't know how it would be for me if I didn't have my son to look after.
He is the reason that I have, to get up and move forward.
That is a crutch, really.
I know that I have a lot to work on, when he comes of age and is self sufficient, where is my strength?
Where will I stand?
Thank you all for your help in guiding me through this tunnel.
I write here and respond to others as a way to feel my way through the darkness. I see so much of myself, in your own struggles and situations. It is not that I am so strong, I am questioning myself constantly.
I am deeply grateful for your prayers and help.
I am deciding to strengthen my self, before I decide to do anything.
It is okay to sit and pray and let some time pass.
I do love her so.
Even if I don't go into rescue mode.
If I do nothing,
I love her still.
Whatever I do,
it cannot be driven by the chaos of addiction.
Love and Hugs to all.
Leafy
