In the Homeward Bound class at the jail, we talk about awareness a lot. Many times as I sit and listen to them talk, I am surprised by how unaware they are of themselves. I guess, foolishly, I feel very (quite prideful) aware of who I am. But then something happens to knock me off my self built pedestal which just shocks the socks off of me.
The Son had visited with the Dad and I and we both felt that things weren't going well. Since I had a few other family crisis to deal with, it was easy to set it aside. I took him back to his apartment on Tuesday as usual, my mind raced to all of the things that I typically say to him and each time a thought would come, I would chant this little mantra in my head: " You will just be wasting breath".
It was a pretty quiet ride back. But, when I dropped him off, I was pretty proud of myself. It's quite a feat for me to keep my mouth shut. I had accepted that nothing I could say would change anything. But then I got home and the other crisis of the day seemed to reach a resolution and so what did I do? I know all of you fellow Al Anon friends can guess. I started to worry. I started stewing and replaying all of the things that he did and said.
I had worked myself up into a big frenzy. If you saw me in my home, I'm sure you'd ask, " does she have a history of mental illness?" Somewhere amidst the begging, God, in his
This is the idea that came to mind. I remembered when we started the process of selling our home, looking for a new one and going to the bank to get a loan. Asking my ADD brain to do the work needed to complete those tasks was like asking me to climb Kilimanjaro. Overwhelming can't even adequately describe my feelings during that time. The Dad is a details machine. He is in his element with lists and fine print. Early in the process I told him that I couldn't do those tasks. I would organize emptying a home that we had occupied for almost twenty years. I would have yard sales, make trips to Goodwill, organize all those mementos in the attic, pack and move, but please don't make me deal with banks and relators.
It was the perfect division of labor. I still had hard work to do, but, the worry left me because I knew that he would handle it perfectly. All of the sudden, it occurred to me that this was the same. I couldn't fix my son. It was too big for me. If I could trust my husband to handle a move, why couldn't I trust God with the Son. Suddenly, I was able to understand the relationship that I needed to have with my higher power. Comparing it to the relationship with the Dad helped me to see that help is there if only I will take it.
It's a beautiful Saturday here in Tennessee. Tomorrow our temperatures will drop to the low seventies. I'm ready for the air to get cooler. I'm going to clean my house, finish a little laundry, start a new crafty project, walk the dogs and maybe go watch the Dad ride his horse. That's all possible because I've handed that over ( at least for now) Ha!
Feeling grateful but still praying.....