EnChroma Glasses
I saw an advert for these glasses the other day on the internet and my interest was peaked enough to click in and watch the commercial. These glasses have been developed by an off shoot of a paint company and are for people with color blindness. I don't understand the technology behind them but the lenses in the glasses do what the eye does not in a person with color blindness and enables them to see colors as others do.
I thought these were pretty cool until I saw the response of people with color blindness when they tried them on and then I thought they were really cool. I know it was a commercial, but the reactions were priceless. These people were stunned and excited and awed by the prism of colors they had heard tell of but never experienced before and it made me think...
I feel as though I have constructed something like these glasses for myself by going through the steps and by working on myself. I don't ever think I have ever had a clear vision of myself until now. I have always put too much stock in what other people have said, in what other people think, in what I think they will say, on what I think they think and it has all been so distorting.
I have tried over the years to mold myself into what I thought I was supposed to be, how I thought I was supposed to act, how I was supposed to look. It is no surprise that I was unsuccessful and unhappy. It felt like trying to put pantyhose on when you are wet. It is a futile attempt, you will struggle and the hose will snag and you aren't going to look pretty when it's over.
I have found that being true to myself is the trick. I have started to do what I feel is right and not what I don't. Sometimes doing what I think is right for me does not always fall in line with what others think I should do and I am strong enough now to see that that is alright. In order to be my true self means that sometimes others will be frustrated and disappointed, but I am living without regrets. I move forward not intending any harm, taking responsibility and being honest. Sometimes my level of honesty doesn't always serve me well in all circumstances either, but I know that if I don't tell my truth, I will start to get a distorted view of myself again and that is something. I can't afford.
I have built my own set of EnChroma glasses over time and I know how brave I am, how strong I am, how wise I am, how well-intentioned and kind I am. I also know how damaged I was, how wrong I was, how badly I handled things in the past. These new glasses of mine balance all these things and allow me to see who I am now much more clearly.
Growing up I saw myself through my parents eyes and didn't like what they saw so I tried to change, to fix the image. In school I did the same when I saw myself through the eyes of my peers. When Frank and I married, I saw myself through his eyes and knew his vision of me had me on a pedestal so high I could not achieve it's elevation. Addiction brought me down in his eyes and I now have to be careful not to look at myself through his eyes because he is still angry and afraid and his vision of me right now is not always nice, nor is it balanced.
What I take away from this is that I have to concentrate on simply looking at myself through my own eyes and if that means I need to wear a pair of spiritual glasses, then so be it. When I wear those glasses I see sides to myself I knew were always there but I could never before bring into focus. The range of hues I see in myself is staggering and the pictures I can paint are now limitless.
Tuesday, April 28, 2015
Thursday, April 9, 2015
Keep Talking
Keep Talking
Our marriage counselor has been pushing us lately to make decisions. He is wanting more results and wants us to make clear to each other what our intentions are and what we are willing to do. I won't go into all the details, but we have a few sticking points that are stymying our diving into my moving home. None of them are small and none of them are easy and all of them are exhausting.
The facts are that there is a history there that contains both good and bad. We can trigger each other like nobody's business. There is an understandable lack of trust as a direct result of my actions during addiction. There is a lot of fear surrounding my not being able to promise there will be no relapse.
This is one of the major sticking points for sure. I want to be able to promise that with all my heart but would be lying if I did. I can no more promise that I won't relapse than I can that I won't get some other disease in the future, and I know for those not exposed to addiction, that is hard to understand. I CAN promise that I will do everything in my power, and I am, not to relapse, to live a more righteous life, to be spiritually sound and connected and to strive to be the best I can be, all of which slakes the thirst I have for falling back on my old ways of escape. I CAN say that I have no desire to escape today, that I love myself today and that I have no need nor want for mind altering substances and I was never able to say that before. I CAN say that I do desire to come home a stronger and more equal partner to a man I both love and admire. I CAN say that I desire to do so only when we can take a leap of faith and that I don't want to lose myself in the process.
I do lose hope sometimes. I do find it hard to keep going over and over what has happened and examine all the feelings that crop up for us both. It is exhausting to go to marriage counseling week after week. There are days I want to throw in the towel and give up.
The other night when I was tucking Dermot into bed he asked me when I was coming home. I told him that I couldn't answer that question yet but that Daddy and I were talking all that through. Dermot looked up at me and said, "I guess driving us needs to come first and then moving in. Well keep talking Mom. Talk for six hours at a time if you have to, but just keep talking."
So when the marriage counselor gave us an assignment on discernment that he uses to make major life decisions which is a faith based praying model, I looked at it. It took me a few weeks but I looked at it. I wrote about it for myself. I meditated on it last night. I asked Joe for what he thought I should do and he basically told me as he wiped down the diner counter that "The kid has more sense than the both of you put together."
So for all our sakes and perhaps Dermot in particular, I plan to just keep talking no matter how hard, how tiring. There is history of bad and good in our story, but it is the good I plan to highlight going forward and that good contains Dermot and Wren and we owe them this fight.
Our marriage counselor has been pushing us lately to make decisions. He is wanting more results and wants us to make clear to each other what our intentions are and what we are willing to do. I won't go into all the details, but we have a few sticking points that are stymying our diving into my moving home. None of them are small and none of them are easy and all of them are exhausting.
The facts are that there is a history there that contains both good and bad. We can trigger each other like nobody's business. There is an understandable lack of trust as a direct result of my actions during addiction. There is a lot of fear surrounding my not being able to promise there will be no relapse.
This is one of the major sticking points for sure. I want to be able to promise that with all my heart but would be lying if I did. I can no more promise that I won't relapse than I can that I won't get some other disease in the future, and I know for those not exposed to addiction, that is hard to understand. I CAN promise that I will do everything in my power, and I am, not to relapse, to live a more righteous life, to be spiritually sound and connected and to strive to be the best I can be, all of which slakes the thirst I have for falling back on my old ways of escape. I CAN say that I have no desire to escape today, that I love myself today and that I have no need nor want for mind altering substances and I was never able to say that before. I CAN say that I do desire to come home a stronger and more equal partner to a man I both love and admire. I CAN say that I desire to do so only when we can take a leap of faith and that I don't want to lose myself in the process.
I do lose hope sometimes. I do find it hard to keep going over and over what has happened and examine all the feelings that crop up for us both. It is exhausting to go to marriage counseling week after week. There are days I want to throw in the towel and give up.
The other night when I was tucking Dermot into bed he asked me when I was coming home. I told him that I couldn't answer that question yet but that Daddy and I were talking all that through. Dermot looked up at me and said, "I guess driving us needs to come first and then moving in. Well keep talking Mom. Talk for six hours at a time if you have to, but just keep talking."
So when the marriage counselor gave us an assignment on discernment that he uses to make major life decisions which is a faith based praying model, I looked at it. It took me a few weeks but I looked at it. I wrote about it for myself. I meditated on it last night. I asked Joe for what he thought I should do and he basically told me as he wiped down the diner counter that "The kid has more sense than the both of you put together."
So for all our sakes and perhaps Dermot in particular, I plan to just keep talking no matter how hard, how tiring. There is history of bad and good in our story, but it is the good I plan to highlight going forward and that good contains Dermot and Wren and we owe them this fight.
Tuesday, April 7, 2015
A Most Noble Pyramid Scheme
A Most Noble Pyramid Scheme
Lest anyone think that I am spiritually sound every single moment of the day, let me assure you that I struggle to do the right thing often. I have that voice in my head that tells me to just be lazy and not do the chore ahead that needs to be done. I have that voice in my head that says I deserve to take time off from the things that keep me moving forward in a more healthy way. I have that voice in my head that whispers lies and promises titillating oases of ego-stroking self-indulgences. I used to listen to that voice and that voice alone.
That voice is still there and I have to make a conscious effort to tune it out. I have to change the channel and find one which promises redemption rather than indulgence. The music is sweeter and softer, but the song is beautiful and longer-lasting.
There are days when I am tired and I don't want to go to a meeting or meet a person from the program for coffee or drive to a rehab and speak. I used to cave and not go, sitting instead in glorious self-indulgence and trying to enjoy the stolen time but all the while wallowing in guilt.
Now, when, in those moments of pause, I consider not doing what it right, I see the links in the chain. I see the person whom I have agreed to meet for coffee, I see the people in the chairs in the rehab sitting and waiting, I see my sponsor's face and the faces of those who have offered their hands down and back to pull me up and forward and I get it and I go and I never regret it. I never regret making the meeting or the coffee or the session or the reading or the speaking. I do regret those times that I bail out of my responsibilities.
It strikes me that it is all a pyramid scheme of the most noble kind. I am a link in a chain of goodness and I have to keep my link strong. My sponsee needs my time and energy and patience. My fellow meeting makers need me as much as I need them. There are days I listen and gain from the wisdom imparted and there are days I impart that wisdom and there are people there who may need to hear what I have to say just as I need to hear their pearls.
Even my sponsor needs my participation. In giving she is receiving. The more she is able to give, the stronger her recovery. Her husband said to me once as we wrestling over paying a diner bill that he would let me this time because he had learned early on that you need to "share in the blessings". In that comment he wasn't really talking about the food bill, he was speaking on a grander level. You can't always be the giver nor can you always be the receiver. You have to allow others the gift of giving as well, it is as valuable a stance as receiving.
So I will give and receive, strengthen my link and participate in this wonderful spiritual ponzi scheme!
Lest anyone think that I am spiritually sound every single moment of the day, let me assure you that I struggle to do the right thing often. I have that voice in my head that tells me to just be lazy and not do the chore ahead that needs to be done. I have that voice in my head that says I deserve to take time off from the things that keep me moving forward in a more healthy way. I have that voice in my head that whispers lies and promises titillating oases of ego-stroking self-indulgences. I used to listen to that voice and that voice alone.
That voice is still there and I have to make a conscious effort to tune it out. I have to change the channel and find one which promises redemption rather than indulgence. The music is sweeter and softer, but the song is beautiful and longer-lasting.
There are days when I am tired and I don't want to go to a meeting or meet a person from the program for coffee or drive to a rehab and speak. I used to cave and not go, sitting instead in glorious self-indulgence and trying to enjoy the stolen time but all the while wallowing in guilt.
Now, when, in those moments of pause, I consider not doing what it right, I see the links in the chain. I see the person whom I have agreed to meet for coffee, I see the people in the chairs in the rehab sitting and waiting, I see my sponsor's face and the faces of those who have offered their hands down and back to pull me up and forward and I get it and I go and I never regret it. I never regret making the meeting or the coffee or the session or the reading or the speaking. I do regret those times that I bail out of my responsibilities.
It strikes me that it is all a pyramid scheme of the most noble kind. I am a link in a chain of goodness and I have to keep my link strong. My sponsee needs my time and energy and patience. My fellow meeting makers need me as much as I need them. There are days I listen and gain from the wisdom imparted and there are days I impart that wisdom and there are people there who may need to hear what I have to say just as I need to hear their pearls.
Even my sponsor needs my participation. In giving she is receiving. The more she is able to give, the stronger her recovery. Her husband said to me once as we wrestling over paying a diner bill that he would let me this time because he had learned early on that you need to "share in the blessings". In that comment he wasn't really talking about the food bill, he was speaking on a grander level. You can't always be the giver nor can you always be the receiver. You have to allow others the gift of giving as well, it is as valuable a stance as receiving.
So I will give and receive, strengthen my link and participate in this wonderful spiritual ponzi scheme!
Wednesday, March 25, 2015
The Dawning
The Dawning...
I read stories in the book "Alcoholics Anonymous" (referred to as the Big Book) and there are many stories about spiritual awakenings. Many talk about a flash, or a sudden realization, a quick and overwhelming sense of the spirit and an understanding that there is something higher and greater than the sick, selfish alcoholic self. These stories are amazing and attractive and provide hope to many sufferers. They can also cause frustration for the multitudes of people for whom this does not happen in the same way.
I have always been attracted to these flash-bang stories. I wanted a spiritual awakening and I wanted one quickly. I am such a text book alcoholic. I, like many addicts, want things right now. I want what I want when I want it as they say. I had gastric bypass surgery because I wanted to lose weight and fast without the effort of exercise and diet. That didn't work out well did it? I became an alcoholic shortly thereafter AND began to regain some of the weight I lost.
It is easy now for me to see my flawed thinking and easy now for me to see that flawed thinking in others who may seek my counsel. I worry that my clarity will not last so I look myself fully in the eye every day now by practicing the tenth step. The tenth step is all about reviewing your actions and looking for flaws and when finding them rectifying them immediately. I worry about how I will hold a mirror up to another for them to see themselves clearly. Looking in the mirror is critical and until someone is willing to pick up the mirror and look, then I must hold it up for them but do so firmly with love and understanding. It is a precarious balancing act.
In my home group we say that people who have gone through the steps have reached the other side. To some that may sound arrogant, but it isn't meant to be elitist at all. It is an acknowledgment of the self examining work that has been done. It is almost like that saying, "The grass is always greener on the other side"... Well, it occurs to me that it is greener but not because the grass is different on the other side, but because I have better vision. I would argue that most of the people who enter the rooms of AA want the greener grass, but unless they actually do the steps, they will never see it.
It took me some months of working and writing and following the directions of my sponsor before I started to recognize a few things. I was starting to feel better. I was starting to like myself. I was starting to stand taller, care more about my appearance, look people in the eye, emerge from my hole of self-pity. I was starting to smile and laugh and become sure-footed. My problems were not gone and my life was chaotic, but I was not. I was steadily plodding along doing the next right thing with a growing awareness that I was not alone. I was seeing the benefits of my new clarity all around me and I was having epiphanies right, left and center. I was becoming the person that I have always wanted to be and what an amazing realization that was.
So I did not have a flash-bang spiritual awakening, I would describe it differently. It was as though I got up early in the morning while it was still dark. I began my day and went about doing the things I needed to do and began slowly to feel warmth, so I lifted my head and saw the slow beautiful dawning of the sun.
I read stories in the book "Alcoholics Anonymous" (referred to as the Big Book) and there are many stories about spiritual awakenings. Many talk about a flash, or a sudden realization, a quick and overwhelming sense of the spirit and an understanding that there is something higher and greater than the sick, selfish alcoholic self. These stories are amazing and attractive and provide hope to many sufferers. They can also cause frustration for the multitudes of people for whom this does not happen in the same way.
I have always been attracted to these flash-bang stories. I wanted a spiritual awakening and I wanted one quickly. I am such a text book alcoholic. I, like many addicts, want things right now. I want what I want when I want it as they say. I had gastric bypass surgery because I wanted to lose weight and fast without the effort of exercise and diet. That didn't work out well did it? I became an alcoholic shortly thereafter AND began to regain some of the weight I lost.
It is easy now for me to see my flawed thinking and easy now for me to see that flawed thinking in others who may seek my counsel. I worry that my clarity will not last so I look myself fully in the eye every day now by practicing the tenth step. The tenth step is all about reviewing your actions and looking for flaws and when finding them rectifying them immediately. I worry about how I will hold a mirror up to another for them to see themselves clearly. Looking in the mirror is critical and until someone is willing to pick up the mirror and look, then I must hold it up for them but do so firmly with love and understanding. It is a precarious balancing act.
In my home group we say that people who have gone through the steps have reached the other side. To some that may sound arrogant, but it isn't meant to be elitist at all. It is an acknowledgment of the self examining work that has been done. It is almost like that saying, "The grass is always greener on the other side"... Well, it occurs to me that it is greener but not because the grass is different on the other side, but because I have better vision. I would argue that most of the people who enter the rooms of AA want the greener grass, but unless they actually do the steps, they will never see it.
It took me some months of working and writing and following the directions of my sponsor before I started to recognize a few things. I was starting to feel better. I was starting to like myself. I was starting to stand taller, care more about my appearance, look people in the eye, emerge from my hole of self-pity. I was starting to smile and laugh and become sure-footed. My problems were not gone and my life was chaotic, but I was not. I was steadily plodding along doing the next right thing with a growing awareness that I was not alone. I was seeing the benefits of my new clarity all around me and I was having epiphanies right, left and center. I was becoming the person that I have always wanted to be and what an amazing realization that was.
So I did not have a flash-bang spiritual awakening, I would describe it differently. It was as though I got up early in the morning while it was still dark. I began my day and went about doing the things I needed to do and began slowly to feel warmth, so I lifted my head and saw the slow beautiful dawning of the sun.
Wednesday, March 18, 2015
Though She Be But Little...
Though She Be But Little...
"Though she be but little, she is fierce." A Midsummer Night's Dream - William Shakespeare
I think of this line when I look at Wren. She is a tiny package of confidence and tenacity. She sees things in a way I do not, she knows herself, she knows what she wants and she does not see obstacles, she sees challenges. When she gets an answer wrong while doing her homework, she does not give up, she gets determined and really wants to figure it out. You can see the wheels turning as she pushes herself to work it out because she will not be defeated. I have seen her go toe-to-toe with her father and grandfather on something she thinks is unfair, standing dwarfed by them with her hands on her hips, not backing down.
I love all these things about her and so many more, but I am perplexed by my own reaction to her at times. With this confidence and tenacity comes sassiness and bossiness that rubs me the wrong way and I am not entirely sure why. I have found myself over the past few months admonishing her to stop being bossy, and telling her to "be sweet."
It wasn't until Frank pointed out that he struggles with how to deal with that as well when approaching Wren that I started to question my discomfort and my reactions. I used never to question things and grew tired of Frank's constant questioning of things, but now I see it as essential to my growth and happiness, no matter how tiring it might be.
So why does it bother me when she is sassy and bossy? Certainly it is not always comfortable to deal with and you can argue that it is not terribly attractive, but is it different coming from a boy? I would argue that it is. I would argue that we would see such action from a boy as being assertive and would see these traits as leadership skills. I think of the working world and know that women who are in charge and assertive are often labeled as "bitch". Do I want Wren to grow up and be afraid of letting the world know who she is and what she thinks? I do not.
If I think back to my own childhood I think I had that spark as well. I don't think it was as strong as Wren's but I remember it was there. I grew up in a different time, a different family and a different culture and I listened when I was told to "be sweet". I took it to heart and stopped sharing my observations, voicing my opinions and being fierce. I thought that being demure on weighty matters was what I was supposed to do when inside I actually had a lot to say. "Being sweet" did not serve me well, it snuffed out my confidence and made me question my own worth.
So now I am trying to saying, "be respectful" to Wren. I don't want her spark to fade, her fierceness to diminish, her sweetness to snuff out who she really is. I will say this to Dermot as well. He has far less confidence in himself than his sister and I worry equally about him as I do about her just for many different reasons.
"From a tiny spark may burst a mighty flame." Dante Alighieri
"Though she be but little, she is fierce." A Midsummer Night's Dream - William Shakespeare
I think of this line when I look at Wren. She is a tiny package of confidence and tenacity. She sees things in a way I do not, she knows herself, she knows what she wants and she does not see obstacles, she sees challenges. When she gets an answer wrong while doing her homework, she does not give up, she gets determined and really wants to figure it out. You can see the wheels turning as she pushes herself to work it out because she will not be defeated. I have seen her go toe-to-toe with her father and grandfather on something she thinks is unfair, standing dwarfed by them with her hands on her hips, not backing down.
I love all these things about her and so many more, but I am perplexed by my own reaction to her at times. With this confidence and tenacity comes sassiness and bossiness that rubs me the wrong way and I am not entirely sure why. I have found myself over the past few months admonishing her to stop being bossy, and telling her to "be sweet."
It wasn't until Frank pointed out that he struggles with how to deal with that as well when approaching Wren that I started to question my discomfort and my reactions. I used never to question things and grew tired of Frank's constant questioning of things, but now I see it as essential to my growth and happiness, no matter how tiring it might be.
So why does it bother me when she is sassy and bossy? Certainly it is not always comfortable to deal with and you can argue that it is not terribly attractive, but is it different coming from a boy? I would argue that it is. I would argue that we would see such action from a boy as being assertive and would see these traits as leadership skills. I think of the working world and know that women who are in charge and assertive are often labeled as "bitch". Do I want Wren to grow up and be afraid of letting the world know who she is and what she thinks? I do not.
If I think back to my own childhood I think I had that spark as well. I don't think it was as strong as Wren's but I remember it was there. I grew up in a different time, a different family and a different culture and I listened when I was told to "be sweet". I took it to heart and stopped sharing my observations, voicing my opinions and being fierce. I thought that being demure on weighty matters was what I was supposed to do when inside I actually had a lot to say. "Being sweet" did not serve me well, it snuffed out my confidence and made me question my own worth.
So now I am trying to saying, "be respectful" to Wren. I don't want her spark to fade, her fierceness to diminish, her sweetness to snuff out who she really is. I will say this to Dermot as well. He has far less confidence in himself than his sister and I worry equally about him as I do about her just for many different reasons.
"From a tiny spark may burst a mighty flame." Dante Alighieri
Wednesday, March 11, 2015
So I Chew...
So I Chew...
Marriage is hard. It just is. It is impossible to live with another person who has their own thoughts, memories, feelings, hopes and ways of doing things and get along all the time. The notion that you fall in love at first site, join in matrimony and live your life sighing dreamily at one another while slowly slurping the same piece of spaghetti till you kiss over a romantic moonlit dinner every day for eternity is, well, simply not true. Loving someone you would like to spend your life with does not come easy. These notions are the stuff of Sweet Valley High novels and Disney movies and I was brought up on a steady diet of these and believed them hook, line and sinker.
Marriage can also be wonderful, full of adventure, passion, care and mutual respect. The problem remains that those things rarely can be retained without work and lots of it. I think I always felt deep down that if you had to work at it then it wasn't meant to be or something else as utterly naive. Well now Frank and I are working and working hard. There is damage to repair and a future to map and disagreements to negotiate. There are hopes and dreams to protect and children to raise and budgets to discuss and date nights to plan and it. is. exhausting.
Back when we were first married, Frank's grandfather, Wally, was still alive and in a nursing home nearby. My mother-in-law, a dogged protector and nurturer of her family, had had him living at home for a long time until our wedding when he went to the nursing home just for the weekend while she was away. While there he got very ill and ended up remaining as his medical needs were greater. Joan went every day to feed him dinner and when that became inhibitive to her sanity, we all started taking turns visiting him an feeding him dinner. We would often set up up at the nurses station where there were other people and more activity; where the action was.
I remember a little old lady who used to hang out at the nurses station every day named Molly. She was chatty and clearly lonely and I came to love talking to her. One day she patted me on the knee and asked me how long Frank and I had been married. I told her we had been married less than a year and she smiled knowingly and said, "That's ok honey, the first five years are hell, but then it gets better." I remember laughing, but you know what? Truer words... Except we are on year 14 now!
Granted, we have had some extraordinary obstacles with the death of Liam, Frank's cancer and my alcoholism, but everyone has something don't they? All I know is that on the days when I feel like giving up I don't. Everytime Frank looks like he has had enough, he doesn't give up either. I have to believe that this tenacity that we share will carry us farther.
I have recently had some bumps that all seemed to coincide at the same time. I got tired and I stopped trying as hard. I didn't get up early like I normally do, I didn't journal, I didn't write on the blog, I didn't read the daily literature I need to, I didn't make as many meetings and I began to rest on my laurels. I told myself it was no big deal, I told myself that I deserved a break from it all and guess what? I felt it. I don't mean that I started wanting to drink, but I didn't feel as good about myself, I didn't treat others as well as I would like to, I started thinking negative thoughts, I wasn't able to see Frank's point of view in some of our discussions and it all suffered because of it. In reality, though there were some negative things happening, there were some wonderful things as well, in fact multitude of them. What happened to my own advice that there is freedom in discipline? What happened to gratitude?
I have put myself back in the saddle and another gem from Molly comes to mind. I noticed that every night after dinner she went to her room to get a chocolate covered marshmallow from a box and ate one. She always had a box of these and always ate just one. I asked her what they were and she said they were available only at Passover and she bought enough to eat one every day for the whole year because she loved them so much. I said to her, "but Molly, don't they get stale?" Her very simple answer was to shrug and say, "So I chew!"
Some times life is that simple. Sometimes in order to have something that you love you have to protect what you've got, discipline yourself and deal with the staleness. So as I said, I am back in the saddle of the things that make me the better me I want to be and when things get tough, I plan to simply chew.
Marriage is hard. It just is. It is impossible to live with another person who has their own thoughts, memories, feelings, hopes and ways of doing things and get along all the time. The notion that you fall in love at first site, join in matrimony and live your life sighing dreamily at one another while slowly slurping the same piece of spaghetti till you kiss over a romantic moonlit dinner every day for eternity is, well, simply not true. Loving someone you would like to spend your life with does not come easy. These notions are the stuff of Sweet Valley High novels and Disney movies and I was brought up on a steady diet of these and believed them hook, line and sinker.
Marriage can also be wonderful, full of adventure, passion, care and mutual respect. The problem remains that those things rarely can be retained without work and lots of it. I think I always felt deep down that if you had to work at it then it wasn't meant to be or something else as utterly naive. Well now Frank and I are working and working hard. There is damage to repair and a future to map and disagreements to negotiate. There are hopes and dreams to protect and children to raise and budgets to discuss and date nights to plan and it. is. exhausting.
Back when we were first married, Frank's grandfather, Wally, was still alive and in a nursing home nearby. My mother-in-law, a dogged protector and nurturer of her family, had had him living at home for a long time until our wedding when he went to the nursing home just for the weekend while she was away. While there he got very ill and ended up remaining as his medical needs were greater. Joan went every day to feed him dinner and when that became inhibitive to her sanity, we all started taking turns visiting him an feeding him dinner. We would often set up up at the nurses station where there were other people and more activity; where the action was.
I remember a little old lady who used to hang out at the nurses station every day named Molly. She was chatty and clearly lonely and I came to love talking to her. One day she patted me on the knee and asked me how long Frank and I had been married. I told her we had been married less than a year and she smiled knowingly and said, "That's ok honey, the first five years are hell, but then it gets better." I remember laughing, but you know what? Truer words... Except we are on year 14 now!
Granted, we have had some extraordinary obstacles with the death of Liam, Frank's cancer and my alcoholism, but everyone has something don't they? All I know is that on the days when I feel like giving up I don't. Everytime Frank looks like he has had enough, he doesn't give up either. I have to believe that this tenacity that we share will carry us farther.
I have recently had some bumps that all seemed to coincide at the same time. I got tired and I stopped trying as hard. I didn't get up early like I normally do, I didn't journal, I didn't write on the blog, I didn't read the daily literature I need to, I didn't make as many meetings and I began to rest on my laurels. I told myself it was no big deal, I told myself that I deserved a break from it all and guess what? I felt it. I don't mean that I started wanting to drink, but I didn't feel as good about myself, I didn't treat others as well as I would like to, I started thinking negative thoughts, I wasn't able to see Frank's point of view in some of our discussions and it all suffered because of it. In reality, though there were some negative things happening, there were some wonderful things as well, in fact multitude of them. What happened to my own advice that there is freedom in discipline? What happened to gratitude?
I have put myself back in the saddle and another gem from Molly comes to mind. I noticed that every night after dinner she went to her room to get a chocolate covered marshmallow from a box and ate one. She always had a box of these and always ate just one. I asked her what they were and she said they were available only at Passover and she bought enough to eat one every day for the whole year because she loved them so much. I said to her, "but Molly, don't they get stale?" Her very simple answer was to shrug and say, "So I chew!"
Some times life is that simple. Sometimes in order to have something that you love you have to protect what you've got, discipline yourself and deal with the staleness. So as I said, I am back in the saddle of the things that make me the better me I want to be and when things get tough, I plan to simply chew.
Tuesday, February 24, 2015
Fledglings
Fledglings
This past weekend, I went back to Caron Treatment Center where I had gone for treatment this time last year. Every Sunday they have a chapel service led by Father Bill. There is a sermon about addiction every week and music performed by patients. They offer the Eucharist and they give out anniversary coins. I went to celebrate my year there and get my coin because it was a place of great healing for me and it seemed so much more symbolic to return there.
Father Bill is a Catholic Priest like no other. He talks about addiction in a really down-to-earth fashion pulling no punches. The language is not soft as the subject is life and death for those who suffer and for the family members of the afflicted, themselves sickened by the condition. The purpose behind the service is to educate and to be as inclusive and welcoming as possible. There are readings from the Torah and there is a Native American prayer offered. When the Eucharist is offered it is offered to all that believe in a higher powers who choose to take it. Father Bill makes a point of citing his opinions on those in the congregation who are gay, that persecution of them is wrong and that they are to be loved and embraced and validated. It is a truly powerful event.
I invited people from my life who have been through this past year with me to attend and the turnout was almost overwhelming. In addition to myself, Dermot, Wren and Frank, there were fifteen people who made the icy journey to Wernersville, Pa. One of my college roommates drove ten hours from Indiana with the man in her life to be there for me. My other college roommate drove through the snow with her husband from the DC area taking a journey that normally take 2-3 hours which ended up taking them seven! My in-laws were there as were some of my other friends, my sponsor and her husband and friends of the family. I felt surrounded by love and support and it was a testament to the people who truly matter in my life for all they have been through with me and all they have offered along the way.
I asked my children to present me with my coin and they readily agreed. They then decided that they wanted to give speeches, which I was so impressed by. They worked on them for a few days and I warned them that there would be 200 plus people there and that if they decided that was too overwhelming that it was ok to not stand up, it would not mean any less to me. To my surprise, my out-going son was the one who started to be nervous and my quiet little girl was the one who pushed to do it despite the crowd. In the end they read it together with Wren leading the charge as Frank held her up to the microphone, and their doing so nearly brought me to my knees. I was so proud of them and I have had many reasons to be proud of them over the years, but this one took the cake.
Though they were a hard act to follow, I read "The Queen Who Saved Herself", the story I had written for them in an attempt to explain my addiction to them in terms they might find easier to deal with. I had asked that the people who came for me stand beside me in an attempt to illustrate that you cannot do this alone. I was able to thank Caron and those who helped me along the way and it was simply a powerful and inspiring experience.
I know there are people who would question including our children in such a heavy event, what with the topic and the strong language. I understand the hesitation but Frank and I felt very strongly about it. After all they have first-hand experience with the affects of addiction. It has caused them pain and they understand more about it than the average person. I don't think it would be respectful of them to leave them out of the celebration when they had been to the depths with me already.
I think that we don't often give children credit for what they understand. They get it far more often than not and I think it is much healthier to be open about these things so that if they do get confused and have questions, they know it is safe to ask. I would rather they ask than have misinformation fester and malform in their minds. That happens all too often.
We made a decision to include their brother Liam in our dialogue from the beginnings of their lives. We could not imagine not doing so because to pretend that Liam did not exist would be to do his soul such dishonor. Similarly we did not want for Dermot and Wren to think that should something ever happen to them that they would be forgotten. It means that they are much more familiar with death than most children and they, I hope, see it as a natural part of life rather than something mysterious and strange.
I made a decision this year, with Frank's blessing, to talk to Dermot about my childhood trauma. He is the same age I was when it began. I did so in the vaguest of terms so as a not to frighten him but I wanted for him to know that abuse of that kind exists in this world and help him understand what he needs to be safe. I wanted to explain that often people who do these things will tell you to keep it a secret and will sometimes threaten to hurt your family if you tell. I wanted him to know that wasn't true, you should always say something, always tell. It was a difficult conversation for sure, but one he heard fully. He was sad I had been through something like that, but he knows now we can talk about anything, he knows now he can tell, he knows now you can rise above it. I plan to have the same conversation with Wren too when she is a bit older.
I think the more we talk to our kids about these things, and the more we show we are vulnerable too, the better informed they become, the better equipped and the more open the communication. Hopefully it will help these two fledglings rise.
This past weekend, I went back to Caron Treatment Center where I had gone for treatment this time last year. Every Sunday they have a chapel service led by Father Bill. There is a sermon about addiction every week and music performed by patients. They offer the Eucharist and they give out anniversary coins. I went to celebrate my year there and get my coin because it was a place of great healing for me and it seemed so much more symbolic to return there.
Father Bill is a Catholic Priest like no other. He talks about addiction in a really down-to-earth fashion pulling no punches. The language is not soft as the subject is life and death for those who suffer and for the family members of the afflicted, themselves sickened by the condition. The purpose behind the service is to educate and to be as inclusive and welcoming as possible. There are readings from the Torah and there is a Native American prayer offered. When the Eucharist is offered it is offered to all that believe in a higher powers who choose to take it. Father Bill makes a point of citing his opinions on those in the congregation who are gay, that persecution of them is wrong and that they are to be loved and embraced and validated. It is a truly powerful event.
I invited people from my life who have been through this past year with me to attend and the turnout was almost overwhelming. In addition to myself, Dermot, Wren and Frank, there were fifteen people who made the icy journey to Wernersville, Pa. One of my college roommates drove ten hours from Indiana with the man in her life to be there for me. My other college roommate drove through the snow with her husband from the DC area taking a journey that normally take 2-3 hours which ended up taking them seven! My in-laws were there as were some of my other friends, my sponsor and her husband and friends of the family. I felt surrounded by love and support and it was a testament to the people who truly matter in my life for all they have been through with me and all they have offered along the way.
I asked my children to present me with my coin and they readily agreed. They then decided that they wanted to give speeches, which I was so impressed by. They worked on them for a few days and I warned them that there would be 200 plus people there and that if they decided that was too overwhelming that it was ok to not stand up, it would not mean any less to me. To my surprise, my out-going son was the one who started to be nervous and my quiet little girl was the one who pushed to do it despite the crowd. In the end they read it together with Wren leading the charge as Frank held her up to the microphone, and their doing so nearly brought me to my knees. I was so proud of them and I have had many reasons to be proud of them over the years, but this one took the cake.
Though they were a hard act to follow, I read "The Queen Who Saved Herself", the story I had written for them in an attempt to explain my addiction to them in terms they might find easier to deal with. I had asked that the people who came for me stand beside me in an attempt to illustrate that you cannot do this alone. I was able to thank Caron and those who helped me along the way and it was simply a powerful and inspiring experience.
I know there are people who would question including our children in such a heavy event, what with the topic and the strong language. I understand the hesitation but Frank and I felt very strongly about it. After all they have first-hand experience with the affects of addiction. It has caused them pain and they understand more about it than the average person. I don't think it would be respectful of them to leave them out of the celebration when they had been to the depths with me already.
I think that we don't often give children credit for what they understand. They get it far more often than not and I think it is much healthier to be open about these things so that if they do get confused and have questions, they know it is safe to ask. I would rather they ask than have misinformation fester and malform in their minds. That happens all too often.
We made a decision to include their brother Liam in our dialogue from the beginnings of their lives. We could not imagine not doing so because to pretend that Liam did not exist would be to do his soul such dishonor. Similarly we did not want for Dermot and Wren to think that should something ever happen to them that they would be forgotten. It means that they are much more familiar with death than most children and they, I hope, see it as a natural part of life rather than something mysterious and strange.
I made a decision this year, with Frank's blessing, to talk to Dermot about my childhood trauma. He is the same age I was when it began. I did so in the vaguest of terms so as a not to frighten him but I wanted for him to know that abuse of that kind exists in this world and help him understand what he needs to be safe. I wanted to explain that often people who do these things will tell you to keep it a secret and will sometimes threaten to hurt your family if you tell. I wanted him to know that wasn't true, you should always say something, always tell. It was a difficult conversation for sure, but one he heard fully. He was sad I had been through something like that, but he knows now we can talk about anything, he knows now he can tell, he knows now you can rise above it. I plan to have the same conversation with Wren too when she is a bit older.
I think the more we talk to our kids about these things, and the more we show we are vulnerable too, the better informed they become, the better equipped and the more open the communication. Hopefully it will help these two fledglings rise.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)