God Has a Sense of Humor

I walk my little doxie, Lucy, every morning.  The length of our stroll is dependent upon the temperature, humidity and lately a neighbor that I will refer to as 'Mrs. Kravitz'. 

Until last week Mrs. K has only walked on occasion.  And, when she does, you will no doubt learn a lot about her life, who our other neighbors are, what they and their children are doing. 

The last time I lucked into such a meeting, we had just begun our walk and as she started talking my little Lucy did her business.

 Mrs. K said, " now you need to bag that up."

"Since it's an empty lot, I usually wait until I'm on my way home and then bag and grab it.  That way I don't have to carry it all the way through the neighborhood."  I replied.

"If you bag it now, you can lay the bag on the curb, that way you won't forget it, and will see it and can grab it on your way back."  She said.

It's hard to break old habits.  So, I bagged the poop and laid it on the curb, all the while listening to her remind me what a great idea that was.  My twelve step brain was so angry.  Why do I automatically try to please others?  Why didn't I just say, " that's a great way of doing it too" and just continue walking?

I've taken to looking out both doors before leaving and if she is on her walk, I just wait.  How silly is that?  Then one day last week, after I Lucy and I took our walk, I decided to put some day lilies in the ground before I took my shower and guess who was rounding the corner?

Inside, my youngest was having breakfast.  She heard me mumbling about what to do because I really needed to get them planted and get moving to get to a morning appointment. 

"What is going on"?  She asked.

"Oh, Mrs. K is walking and I'm afraid if I plant the lilies now and she stops to talk, I will never get away."  Then an idea came to me.

" Will you do me a favor"?  I asked.

"Sure"  She said.

"If she stops to talk and you see that I just cant get away, will you bring out the phone and tell me that there is a call for me"?  I asked feeling mildly guilty for including her in my deceit.

"Yes, I'll save you"  She chuckled.

I began digging as the guilt made it's way in.  She is probably just lonely, I thought.  How many times over the years have I told people what to do?

  "Lord, please forgive me.  Help me to be kind."  I silently prayed even though I did NOT really want to be kind.

On hands and knees, as I am putting the lily in the ground I hear her voice.  "You make me feel guilty out here planting this early."  She says as she walks up to where I am planting.

"Moooom"  I hear coming from the front door.  Wow, she did not waste a single second.  I just meant to save me if I was trapped.

"The phone is for you."  She said with an enormous smile on her face, all the while trying to give me some secret message by raising her eyebrows and winking at the same time.

"Always busy."  Mrs. K said and headed towards her home.

Daughter whispers, "the phone really is for you." 

We both laughed.  Maybe, if I was willing or perhaps even struggling to do the right thing, then God was willing to give us a little laugh for the morning.  Maybe it was just good luck.  I don't know.

As families in addiction, we sometimes need to focus on these little graces and move our focus so that the day has meaning and purpose instead of the insanity that the disease brings.  I just wanted to share this with you in the hopes that it would brighten your day.

  Praying for Henry.  Mine and yours.





 

Glimpses of Heaven

Little Sister and I went to see my sisters in another state yesterday.  It isn't a big trip, it is only a two hour drive.  My oldest sister had lunch ready for us.  She is the unofficial cook in our family.  Lunch alone, was worth the drive.

My other sister lives just a couple of fields away.  She was at a dermo apt with her husband and didn't get there until later.  She had an found old movie taken when my kids were little.  We could not wait to watch it.

When your parents have died and your kids are grown, finding a glimpse of something past is the best gift.  I can't even find words for it.  It's feels like a supernatural phenomena.  The movie was on a VHS tape.  My sister only has one VHS player left and it is in her grandsons room.

Five adults sat in a five year olds bedroom, littered with toys, peering at the small television set, placed at eye level for a three foot tall boy.  We strained to see and hear our parents speak.  We laughed at the children as toddlers.

It was a wonderful treat.  But, I found myself growing sad.  I was sad because I realized that I was peering at my son, the same way that I peered at my parents.  I looked at him as someone who was gone from my life because addiction has come between us.  It has made him so enslaved unto his disease that he can't even consider being a part of our family.

More than anything, that is my wish.  But, it is not to be.  At least not now.  Drug and alcohol addiction is at epidemic proportions and we're worried about what Bruce Jenner is doing with his life. 

I wonder if we aren't already living in hell sometimes.  I guess there is but one road between heaven and hell.  My perspective has everything to do with the direction that I'm facing on that road.

There was a little part of that movie where my sweet dad sat in his rocker with my son at about five years old.  They were rocking and cutting up with each other.  They were both smiling and laughing and in that moment it was pure heaven.  I think I will hang on to that.

 

The Sky is Falling

An unfamiliar number showed up on the caller ID yesterday on our house phone.  Skeptical, I answered it anyway.  I'm not sure why we keep our home phone other than that number is on every form that I have ever filled out in the last twenty years.  Most calls  coming to that number are either a sales call or a robo call.

The recorded voice began their sales pitch about caring for the needs of the elderly.  They went on to discuss preparations for burial.  I thought to myself, 'they don't do very good research....I'm only 50'.  Then it dawned on me, they did do their research......oh my gosh I am 50!  They want me to prepare for MY FINAL EXPENSES! 

It's a little crazy, I know.  Or maybe, I'm a little crazy....I know that too.  There are days that in my mind, I am still young.  I hear myself saying that I am fifty years old and it shocks even me.  Then there are days when my body feels that I must be close to one hundred long years old. 

My body has been screaming at me to get healthy.  You are probably entering the "too much information zone" but IBS is killing me.  I had been thinking in crazy circles, swinging from maybe I'll give up diet coke to maybe I should call the doctor to 'oh my gosh, I probably have colon cancer.  (It's not pretty, but it's my usual route of thinking.......I've survived a lot of imagined cancer scares, ya'll).

So, while I'm having my morning coffee with Splenda, worrying about the caffeine and artificial sweetener that I can't seem to quit consuming, this segment appears on the Today Show about WHOLE 30. 

The woman who was talking about her experience with whole 30, named EVERY SINGLE SYMPTON that I was having.  Then she mentioned that she had lost fifty pounds and was off of every single medicine.  I was listening.  But, it sounded a lot like one of those Paleo type diets and I am no hunter or gatherer.

Then, I thought about my aunt whose life ended far too soon because of colon cancer.  I felt as if at fifty the bloating, if it continued, would send me into the maternity section of most stores just so that I could fit into something other than sweat pants.  How embarrassing would that be?  I'm getting calls about preparing for burial......I'm a little too far from the bringing new life in stage.

So, I got online and read about it.  This program started by two nutritionist takes you off of several large groups of foods (dairy, legumes, sugar...yes, I consider it a food group) for thirty days.  This gives your gut time to heal and then very slowly you start re-introducing the other groups one at a time to see which group gives you the most trouble. 

Thirty days.....I asked my son for thirty days at rehab.  Actually, he spent sixty.  Why couldn't' I commit thirty days for the sake of my health?  My Al-Anon began to kick in.  I needed to take care of myself.  So I headed to Barnes and Noble and bought the book and am now on Day 4.

Those writers really know their stuff.  They tell you every possible negative thing to expect.  They tell you to stay off the scale for the entire thirty days.  They explain that it takes almost two weeks for the inflammation in your colon to subside which really helped me to realize that it would take time to see this through.

I'm feeling better.  I still have some issues.  But, each day seems a little better.  They predicted that your tastes will adjust.  And since I have had no sugar or sweetener of any kind in four days, I love the taste of water.  How strange is that?  I've always had to force water.

This has always been a big obstacle for me.  But, I feel good and committed trying to commit thirty days to it.  I also want to see my writing project through.  It is another 'big ticket' item on my inventory that I need to see through despite my fears. 

Yesterday at the jail, I showed the movie, "When Love is not Enough"  to the inmates.  It is the Lois Wilson story and it is a really good movie.  I show it once a semester.  Each time, I am able to hear more.  I noticed when Lois was reading the twelve steps, near movie's end, that they are showing scenes of her service with the last three steps.  This is also where she decides to go to Bedford Hills even without Bill because this is what it means to take care of herself.

It is in caring for yourself, that you are able to care for others.  So that is exactly what I'm trying to do.  I'm praying for Henry this morning.....and all of you.



 

What do you most need to hear at your first Al Anon meeting?

Our home group has been asked to start a Newcomer meeting group at a rehab facility so that families will have the opportunity to visit an Al-Anon meeting while they are there for IOP.  Their hope is that a regular meeting will evolve from this Newcomer meeting.

I got the format out of the service manual for that sort of meeting and found myself wondering, what would I most need to hear if it were my first meeting?

There are so many valuable things.  If I think back to my first meeting I guess the thing that stands out the most is that I got permission to take care of myself.  What a foreign concept.

I'm working on my fourth step inventory for the very first time.  I go to confession.....not nearly enough.  But, I had never done a fourth step inventory.  The most amazing thing is that a big part of taking care of myself involves being aware of where I am emotionally.

I decided to bite the bullet and begin working on it after visiting another Al-Anon group.  The chairperson had written some questions from the various Al-Anon books from the fourth step inventory and placed them in an envelope.  We passed the envelope around and it was amazing how people seemed to draw just the question that they needed to think about.

It was such a great activity that I did the same thing in my home group.  The interesting thing that happened was this;  people drew tough questions, even ones that brought them to tears, questions that they had never answered out loud before-- I was worried.  Had I done something harmful?  Well, the answer ended up being no.  Every person there went on about what a wonderful meeting it was.

Isn't it strange how the hard things that we avoid, once faced free us so?  I was really blessed to be a part of it all. 

I'm loving my windows open, the crow's caw, flowering trees, the Bermuda grass resurrection, my neighbors out and about and all that spring brings.  I appreciate all of these things so much more now that the nest is empty and I am not running around taxing my kids. 

I have a great urge to travel.  With the Dad working as a solo veterinarian of an equine practice, we will need to make some changes for that to occur.  Maybe that is something that we can work towards.  A girl can hope.

I hope that you are all enjoying your spring.  I'll be praying for Henry.  Yours and mine.

All Things Spring-y

I'm in cleaning mode.  It's part spring cleaning--part Easter is Sunday and the girls will be home.  Whatever the reason, it feels good to declutter and clean.  It's even nicer to open the windows to invite the fresh air in to chase away the stale dry air of winter. 

Bright blue planters will make their way to the porches just waiting for the safety of a much promised no-more-freezing-May-first.  The hummingbird feeder has been placed and morning coffee resumes on the back porch. 

Come on over and sit for a spell!!!

I love spring.  I love summer.  As I grow older the symbolism that they embody is not lost on me.  How I long for fresh starts and new chances.  I guess we all do.

Since winter began, eight new houses have been built near our home.  It was fun to watch in the beginning.  Now, I wake up each day and pray for landscaping.  Louis, our standard poodle, whose paws more resemble bear claws than dog paws, loves to frolic through the mud next door. (I say frolic because when he runs he sort of canters--head bobbing up and down in rocking horse style movements) 

He is a crazy dog.  He reminds me of Scooby Doo from the cartoon.  When I walk Lucy (Doxie --4 1/2" tall) and him(40 1/2" tall)  together,  he cowers at other dogs.  She goes into protective Mama Bear mode.  I have a leash in each hand with Louis stopping frozen, tail tucked, attached to my leg and Lucy running directly toward any barking dog in the opposite direction than Louis, tail up barking loudly as if to say, "Don't talk to me that way Buddy.  I'll walk on this sidewalk anytime I want."  This exercise is what I like to call doggie yoga--or split your owner.

Speaking of summer, I read a blog written by Sophie Hudson (Boo Mama).  She is really funny to read, especially if you are from the south.  She recommended a lovely summer-time beverage that I tried yesterday and loved!  It is from Chik-Fil-A.  You get one part unsweet tea and one part diet lemonade and voila you have the perfect southern tea.  I just had to share.  Tell me what you think.

I've been working on a book.  It is a book about how addiction changed me and my faith.  The book feels a little like the character from Harry Potter--"He who shall remain nameless" because of the stigma that surrounds addiction.  Who might I hurt if I write this?  Who might behave differently if I publish it?  Have I changed the names?  Should I write under a pseudonym?  Will this cause more harm than good?  Those are questions that I have been asking myself since the idea of writing first began to dance itself around in my imagination.

The act of writing this book was a bit like spring cleaning.  I swept up a lot of scary things into a pile, looked them over, sorted them into categories and tried to put them into some sort of logical order to try to glean some bit of understanding before washing my hands of them. 

Now what to do?  Well, I do not know.  So I am going to pray.  And, walk the dogs and sit on the porch.  Maybe I'll sip some tea.  Happy Easter everyone.  Praying for Henry.  Mine and yours.
 

Today's Leper

I watched a Today Show piece "Rossen Reports" on drunk drivers yesterday morning that was really bothersome to me.  The piece focused on the alarming number of repeat offenders who go basically unpunished.

The part of the piece that bothered me the most was when Rossen went to the door of the man who had many DUI's asking why he continued to drink and drive.  The man replied, "Because I'm drunk all the time."

The report then went from that scene to a statement from a MADD spokesman. 

If a family member of mine was killed or hurt by a drunk driver, I would in fact be mad too.  I would want retribution.  I would hopefully use that trauma as these women do to protect others. 

I worry that a loved one of mine will be the cause of a death because he or she is drinking and driving.  It is one of my great fears as the mom of an alcoholic. 

Those are all of the facts.  But, the problem that I have with that piece is not so much with what it said, but with what it didn't say but was implied.

Remember the 'War on Drugs'?  I am curious who benefited from that war.  What are your thoughts?  To me, I think a few politicians gained the most by spewing a few sound bites that sound like something might just happen to eliminate a terrible problem if we just wage war against this elusive enemy--drugs.

Remember the commercial "This is your brain (showing a frying pan) This is your brain on drugs (break an egg into the pan)?  I wonder if that really stopped anyone from trying drugs. 

When I saw the man who said, "because I'm drunk all of the time" I didn't see a guy who was having a good time.  I saw a man in pain.  I saw a man who did not know how to stop. 

Does that excuse his decision to drive?  NO!

Then why am I bothered?

I am bothered because that report falls under the "If it bleeds, it leads" column for me.  Yes, perhaps the spotlight will be placed on states with lenient laws for repeat offenders.  But, as a gal who volunteers in the county jail, I have a few questions for you: 

Do you understand that part of the definition of addiction is that the need to use or drink is so great that they will do anything regardless of the consequence?

Did you know that Dr Gabor Mate, an addiction doctor in Canada, says that we need to stop asking 'why the addiction and instead ask why the pain'?

Did you know that author John Bradshaw says that at the root of all addictions is shame?

Do you know what the rate of recidivism is from most jails or prisons?

I think that you and I and those who have lost a loved one to drunk driving all want the same thing.  None of us want to see lives lost.  But, how do we accomplish that?  Should there be tougher sentences?

I do not know the answer.  But, I suspect that we need more than just incarceration.  I think we need to offer some sort of treatment before we turn them out to just do it again.  And, there is one thing that is for sure:  if we shame and blame they are less likely to come forward for treatment before a tragedy strikes.

Remember the parable of the Leper?  I think we just keep living that parable over and over again.  I think we should all be looking at the bottom line.  The bottom line is that we want to prevent deaths as the result of addiction.  The question should be are we using every possible avenue to do it?

I'm praying for all of our loved ones and for those who have suffered as a result of them.







 

Sunny and Seventy-five.....

Today is a gorgeous day.  It is sunny and 75 as the country music song goes.  I would love to enjoy this day but instead, I got called in to cover the Dad's office.  If I seem a bit pout-y about this, it is because I am. 

I think that all of the cold, wind, snow and dreary skies have caused my body to organically blanket itself in fat for added warmth.  As I begin to shed thick layers of clothing and try to squeeze my body into some of my warmer weather clothing, I find myself mildly panicking.  You see, I will see my endocrinologist tomorrow.  It will not be pretty.

I'm not giving up without a fight though, in a desperate attempt at quickly shedding say ten pounds overnight, the Dad took me to Wal-Mart where we bought bikes.  They are complete with bigger seats and baskets.  My first ride caused me to collapse on the sofa for a two hour nap.

We have not heard from the Son in a week.  That is always worrisome.  The Dad and I have taken a vow to detach from his situation.  With a bit of Lenten encouragement, we are trying to walk this Paschal Path while praying for the faith to trust that God does in fact love him more than we do.

Our girls don't really ask about him.  They know that I freely share the good news.  They are weary of the bad so we just 'don't ask-don't tell' as they say.  Even friends rarely ask.  It is probably safer that way.  But, sometimes it is a lonely feeling. 

I am sneaking in bits and pieces of time to work on my book.  My book and I have a love/hate relationship.  I need to write it but it is painful and sometimes I dread it all at the same time.  I am drudging forward.  Secretly, I'd love to be able to wait long enough to slap a happy ending onto it.  But, in reality, it is probably best to end it here where we are trying to tread water and grow our faith.

It is in this place that we are just a bit closer to our Lord.  This is where we learn the most.  And this is where I am most afraid.  Today I pray for each of you and your loved ones as I pray for Henry.
 

Numb

"Well Mama, I think we have finally become numb."  The Dad said over our lunch, last Friday.
We were traveling to Columbus Ohio to the Dad's thirty year veterinary school reunion when I received a call from a bail bondsman letting me know that the son had been arrested for a DUI, his second in a month.

The Son has worked very hard to stay off of drugs.  But, he hasn't yet accepted his powerlessness over alcohol.  We did not bail him out, this time.  We did not try to manage his consequences.  This time, we tried to manage our lives, instead.

As I sat over lunch I thought about it, numb was the perfect adjective.  I didn't feel anything.  I didn't feel the panic, that I might have felt early on.  I didn't feel all that surprised.  Parents/loved ones know when the distance of addiction is present.  And, we know that something is probably brewing just over the horizon.

Instead of changing our plans to hover over the latest crisis, we went on our trip, taking in each activity with gratitude.  We stopped for lunch at a Jerry's restaurant, one that we had eaten at many times while growing up because it was the only restaurant in Elizabethtown KY.  I'd like to say that we didn't worry at all, but you would all know how impossibly untrue that can be. 

We stopped in Lexington Kentucky at the historic Keeneland Race Course and watched a few races while enjoying the beautiful sunshine that blanketed the still green pastures of central Kentucky.  From there we headed north and once we crossed the Ohio river we took in a little Cincinnati style chili at Skyline Chili.  Finally we finished our journey north by arriving at our hotel in Columbus.

The next morning after breakfast, we went to the All American Quarter Horse Congress, a show that is the culmination of all of the American Quarter Horse show season where the best of the best compete.  When my mind tried to return to the illusion of what I'd like to control, I would try to steer it in the direction of  'what am I to learn from today for my life.'  Then we had a little Rotola's pizza, the Dad's favorite from vet school and a trip to Barnes and Noble--what trip is complete without a new book or two?

We went back to the room and I read while he watched THE Ohio State cream Rutgers.  Then we headed to the reunion.  We visited and chatted.  Most were strangers to me.  At one point the Dad whispered in my ear, " Are you okay?"

Quite automatically I responded, "Yes, I am, now that I know who I am."

I'm not sure why that came out.  But, if I think about it, knowing who you really are instead of being the extension of others releases any fear that I might have had before. 

Post addiction, I can go to the reunion and see those who are posturing and think, "Bless their hearts" and enjoy those who are just want to touch base with old classmates.  Knowing who I am is a perpetual exercise in understanding intention.

That exercise allowed me to come to a place where I can let this place that we find ourselves in be about recognizing that this is his disease to figure out.  I will love him....enough to stop offering advice.  I will trust enough that I will allow him the space to feel God's presence and help. 

Numb, yes to the old fears and worries but yet hopeful.  Hopeful that like me, he will start to know who and whose he is and finally to know that that is all that really matters.

Praying for us all.  Praying for Henry.





 

Mercy Works......

Last Thursday,  I arrived at the county jail to a swarm of busy-ness.  I have two classes each Thursday and in the five years that I have been coming and going, I had never seen such activity.  The day before our local drug task force had captured and arrested thirty-three men and women involved in the illegal purchase and sale of narcotics.  There are still seven under investigation.

When I got home later that day, I looked on my Facebook feed ( which I have a love/hate relationship with) to see various posts of celebration from folks in my county on the arrests of all of those "low lives". 

Some of the comments included sentiments such as "proud to be from a county that locks those thugs away" or "justice is served" or even "so happy that that trash is off our streets".

I found myself growing angry with these people who had made the statements.  I had to sit in quiet with God to figure out the source of my anger and this is what I came up with:

I do think that it is good that we stop the illegal sale of drugs.  I think it's good that these folks receive a consequence for their action.  But, the lynch mob mentality towards those arrested was quite disturbing. 

Each person arrested  is a son or daughter.  Each person arrested is a child of God.  I understand that it is a good thing to discover who is selling them and to stop that person but make no mistake, there will probably be another one there in short order to fill his spot or like the bad disease that addiction is, that drug ring will morph in a new way until the authorities have time to catch up to them.

And then there is this:  I have started working on a new mentorship program there at the jail and I have been asked to work with a lady who gets out near the end of September.  I met her last week for the first time. 

We discussed her needs.  She has no home to go back to, no clothing once out, no job, no family support, no education to speak of, her only ID is a revoked drivers license and she is scared to death.  She has written to every recovery house in our area to try to secure housing but inside jail she can only communicate by mail and on occasion by phone.  The recovery houses have asked her to contact them by phone.  On her few opportunities to phone, she gets a voice mailbox.

I'm going to call this lady Maggie.  Maggie filled out our form which assesses need.  She has held a job for as long as seven years at a time.  She has survived the addiction of her first family, physical, emotional and sexual abuse the best way that she knew how.  Even though at one time she was suicidal, she now feels like she is ready to try living again.

Sitting face to face with this woman taught me a lot about myself.  It was hard at first to look beyond the tattoos and missing teeth.  It was hard to look at the un-kept hygiene of someone who was about an inch away from giving up again.  But then I thought of my mentor ( at least in my mind) who is Mother Teresa.  What would she do?

If you follow her, you know.  I looked deeply into Maggie's eyes.  I kept my gaze there.  Jesus was there and as soon as I reminded myself of that fact, I stopped noticing the evidence of a hard life.  Maggie was weak and soft.  She is a heart crying out to find something that she has never had .....love. 

We talked for the two hours that our class lasted.  Towards the end I asked about whether or not she had a felony.  It is a lot more difficult to secure a job if you have a felony. 
"Yes" she said. 
Was it violent?  I asked.  Another hurdle for finding a job.
"Yes, she said.  I was so high on pills that I stabbed my husband." 
"Is he okay"  I asked. 
"Oh yes, it was superficial.  He's in here now."

Here I am sitting with a lady who stabbed her husband.  And, because we sat face to face and I was able to look beyond the label of 'assault with a deadly weapon', I understand very clearly that I have no right to judge. 

Am I naïve about her chances of reoffending?

 No.

Do I believe that simply locking people up and getting them off the streets for a certain period of time will work or even make our society better?

 No.

But, then I think about my mentor.  Sometimes, when she found the dying in the streets, she only had the time to hold them in her arms and stay with them as they died, gazing into the eyes of Jesus.  She might have taken them back to her Home for the Dying and bathed and fed them knowing that in the end it would not save their life.  But, her goal was only to love and serve. 

And so, for me, that will be my goal.  For whatever period of time that I have with them, I will gaze into the eyes of Jesus....offering the love that is freely given to me in spite of my offenses.  I will leave the final results in the hands of God.

That is the lesson that I wish that I could convey to those who made those comments.  But, then again, you have to be ready to receive the message.

 Funny thing is this:  It took addiction to open my heart to receive enough so that I could give it away.

Praying for us all.
 

Good Grief!

Little Sister just left for a babysitting job that will keep her here in our hometown until Saturday, but away from our house.  Then she will head back to school for the "make or break" semester in nursing school.  We will probably not see too much of her even though she is only an hour away.

Big Sister is settling in at her new home for the next three to four years.  Yesterday, she got to see her office.  Her classes don't begin for another twelve days.  We won't see her until October when she flies in for a wedding.

The Son is living somewhere other than here.  He is probably not making healthy choices.  Finally, I accept that there is nothing that I can do but pray.  I have even stopped trying to manipulate God in prayer.....Yes, I tried doing that. 

Good Grief we are changing.  And, quite frankly, I find nothing good about the grief.  Saturday while in Louisiana we went to the vigil mass.  I could not stop bawling all through the mass.  I came home went straight to Big Sister's room and cried at the empty space. 

I've been waiting for Little Sister to leave.  I needed her out of the house so that I could really have a loud and ugly cry.  She and I talked about it and she is feeling the same way.  She and her sister are fourteen months apart. 

I'm blue about them leaving.  I'm blue about an era in my life ending.  I'm tired and blue about addiction.  I'm sorrowful and blue about all the chances I blew, choices made wrong and fear that I let stop me from dealing with it all for such a long time. I'm frustrated with myself for looking at others--comparing.  I'm sick of feeling sorry for myself because I envy what I think they have.

So now I will enter another season of mourning.  I will let those dark feelings come and sit with them for a while.  I will try my best to process them and let go of them as they will let me. 

But, most of all....I will try to pray more.
 

Bottom Line

Everybody has an opinion regarding the death of Robin Williams.  Some can't believe it.  Some want to be clear that he only went back to rehab for a tune-up....Some think those who take their own life are selfish.  Some think he could have afforded the doctors so he should have gone to them so that he could  just snap out of it. 

Those of us who have lived with either addiction or mental illness or both hope that his life and his death might bring understanding to those whose lives have not. 

I accidently "butt dialed" a friend yesterday.  Last year her adult son was killed in a car wreck.  He had no problems with drugs or alcohol.  He was just a wonderful young man who was responsible and hard working.

"How are you doing?"  I asked.  It had been almost exactly a year since his accident."

She said, "You, know I had gotten past the point where I worried about his driving like you do a sixteen year old.  It just came out of nowhere. I don't think I will ever get over it.

"I can't even imagine."  I say.

"I'm really glad you called.  Most people avoid me like the plague.  Losing a child is a mother's worst nightmare and so it's like people are afraid they will 'catch it' from me."  She said.

I felt a big twinge of guilt.  You see I accidently called her.  However,  I do suspect that with God there are no accidents.  In his mercy he gave her an ear when she needed one.

I look at both of these situations and think---bottom line folks--bottom line.  We are to love one another as Christ loves me.  That's it.

So what if Robin Williams was using again.  So what if he was selfish.  So what if he could afford doctors and didn't seek their advice.  So what if we don't know what to say to a grieving mother who lost her sweet boy? 

We're not here to judge.  We're not here to say or do the perfect thing.  We are only here to love. 

Wonder if we will ever get it? 

 

All I Can Do is Pray

"I have reached the point that all I can do for him is pray."  The Dad says with sadness.  I had reached that point sometime earlier.  Then second guessed myself and tried to take back control.  Given it up.  Taken it Back......You know how it goes.

But now, we have reached a newer level of acceptance than before, together.  And so what we do now is pray and grieve. 

Our counselor says that this is the place we all need to be.  He thinks we are getting healthy.  But, will the son?  It will totally be up to him.  We are at that place where the realization has come to us and we have accepted that it is time for him to decide for himself, the kind of man that he will be in this life.

He needs to face his own struggle....as we are facing ours. 

I look at the girls that I work with at the jail.  And, many times I am so discouraged.  This is why I go to Al Anon.  But, I must realize that I am in the business of planting seeds.  It may come up.  It may not.  It may be taken over by weeds.  It may flourish.  It may need to die back before it comes up new and strong.

And, so is the case with the Son.  I've planted the seeds.  Now I need to get back and tend my own garden.  I keep forgetting to tend my own garden.  And, I was thinking.....all along, all we could really do was pray. 

Praying for you and yours.
Hattie

Pedagog

I've been volunteering at the jail for almost four years now.  My church wanted some involvement so we are starting a new program to connect newly released inmates with jobs and housing and twelve step programs.  We are also offering mentors to those who wish to have one.

I offered to mentor a young girl who was just released.  She has a child and an opiate addiction.  No housing.  No job.  No license.  No car.  No family support.  I went to some friends and asked for donations and got her first and last week paid for in a recovery house.  I got clothes and food donated.  I picked her up from jail and delivered her directly to the recovery house.  Three days later, she packed up and moved out.

At first, I was angry.  Then I started to wonder if I had the right intentions.  Did I help her for my ego?  Was I helping according to God's will or Hattie's?  But, then I thought that maybe God was giving me the opportunity to learn to love without condition.  I called a couple of folks that she might be in contact with and said, " Please tell her that if she still wants a mentor, to give me a call.  No judgment."

I may never hear from her again.  She might call.  Who knows.  "It takes what it takes" as they say in Al Anon.  Maybe God placed her in my path to help me.  I have been so arrogant to think that I could save her when maybe she is saving my relationship with my own son by teaching me that you love someone mistakes and all.  You love someone who is not doing it your way.  You love someone enough to offer support even when they are doing it on their time and their way.

I look back at how I grew up.  My parents loved me.  But, their fears affected the way that they showed love.  If they were afraid, they might hold back approval or acceptance until I changed my behavior. That is much the way that I have parented all of these years.  But, I am learning.  I am learning more from those that I would least expect to learn from.

Healing started for me when I was able to get truthful....mainly with myself about all that was wrong.  Saying out loud what the problems were took a lot.  Now I realize that we all have problems.  We all have done things that we are not proud of.  All of us carry shame and guilt.

Shame wants us to keep quiet and stay sick.  And, I am over it.  I am a mess.  I just learned a very valuable lesson from a young girl who is a drug addict with the kindest heart and broken spirit and a smile that lights up a room.  So I am opening up about this ugly pride that makes me think that I can fix her and save the world. 

Funny how God works.  She might just be saving me.  Praying for us all.

 

Run Run Runaway.....

I've been doing a lot of volunteer work at the jail.  It's something that is both wildly rewarding and quite depressing all at the same time. 

I constantly have this inner turmoil about what my motives are.  Do I think that I am all of that and a bag of chips?  Is that why I am here?  Do I think that I can save them? 

Then I swing to the self deprecating "you are in over your head and a big fool to think that you will make any difference."

There are days when I just want to walk away.

Why can't I just learn to play golf or knit?  Why can't I just find a bungalow out there in some beach town and hide out there for a while.  No phones.  No television.  No interruptions.  Just solitude. 

That is my secret desire.  Perhaps that is running away and not a desire.  Or perhaps my desire is to run away.  I'm good at that.  I've been running from the chaos of addiction for most of my life. 

Praying for all of you and hoping to find the center.....again.





 

Contemplation

I turned fifty on Tuesday.  I've been thinking about this new decade with hope.  Ever since I turned forty-nine my focus has been on fifty.  You could argue that I'm not really living in the present....and be right.  But, for me I need to look back and examine so that I can look forward with clarity and possibly understand what it is that I really want out of what's left of this life.

In the early days of dealing with my son's addiction, I held on to the past (i.e. what I did and didn't do) with a death grip.  I'm not sure why.  I guess I wanted to know why he was an addict.  I figured if I knew why then I could fix it. 

I've been on a long search trying to understand.  "I've been to at least one hundred thousand Al Anon meetings", as Father Tom Weston SJ would say.  I've been to many Saturday night open AA speaker meetings.  I've taken some weekend Ignatian retreats to better understand the Spiritual Exercises.  I volunteer at the jail in the Homeward Bound program.  And, I've bought many books.  If I laid down all of the books that I've bought in the last few years and put them end to end they would extend from my home in Tennessee to........Never mind......that is probably not information that the Dad or I want to look at too closely.

I've been looking for truth.  Like the apostle Thomas, I am looking for direction.  "I am the way and the truth and the life." Jesus said in John 14 :6.  When my Son went to his second stint in rehab the counselor met with us on family weekend.  "He's really honest.  But, he's not very truthful."  He said.

What a strange thing to say. The Dad and I looked at one another puzzled.  This counselor, this recovering addict would teach us a lot about life.  I was asked to teach a class in the jail called Moral Reconation Therapy.    I didn't really want to teach the class.  I didn't even know what the word reconation meant.  The class taught me and the students to stop making decisions based on pleasure or pain and to start making decisions on moral reasoning or right and wrong. 

Truth is what is real.  Period.  Honesty, simply put, is our perception of truth.  Growing up, if you hear that you are lazy enough, it becomes what you believe about yourself.  But, is it truth? 

I write in an effort to mine for truth.  I look back at my family looking for what is real...not what I've always heard.  There is a lot of alcoholism and addiction in my family.  What does that mean?  What does that say about me?  Does that mean that my son is doomed to live his life out in active addiction?

I've learned so much.  I am really no different than the alcoholic or addict.  At the root of it all, we all feel uncomfortable with who we are or what we think that we are.  We've been listening to those voices whether from within or without telling us that we are not enough. 

Those voices that say, "You should be ashamed of yourself."

Those voices saying, "It's your fault."

Those voices that tell you to be afraid.....every waking moment of every day.

The difference between them and me......I can have a drink and think, "no I'd rather save those calories for chocolate."  They can't.  I have diabetes and when my blood sugar drops, my hands shake and I start sweating and my body aches for sugar.  I told my endocrinologist, " I think my drug of choice is sugar."  He said, "Yes, diabetes acts very much like addiction.  You get low and crave sugar.  You eat the sugar and you feel sick again and it starts over and over again.  You can't live with it and you can't live without it.

I get that analogy.  My son has a disease just as my ancestors have.  Disease is hard to live with, no matter what the disease.  Disease, regardless of the kind  affects the whole family.  But, with addiction, nobody wants to talk about it. 

I do.

I want to respect the privacy of my son.  But, I will not let fear or shame keep me sick.  I'm not ashamed of the addict or alcoholic.  I hope one day they will find their way past fear and shame. 



But, until then, I will pray. 

For them. 
For you. 
And for Henry. 



 

Coming Full Circle

I have five brothers and sisters.  And, I have twenty nieces and nephews.  And, fourteen great nieces and nephews.  We are a prolific bunch!  Yesterday I traveled an hour away to see my niece and her newest child, just five days old.  He was so tiny.  This is her fourth child and so I decided to take them dinner instead of a baby gift.  By the time you have four, two boys and two girls, you have it (baby clothes, furniture, tools)  all.  But, you don't have time. 

This niece is my oldest brother's daughter.  While growing up, he was my favorite.  He is seventeen years older than me and he took me everywhere.  He tried ( and failed) to get me into sports.  He read to me, turning me  into a voracious reader.  We lived in a tiny town in Kentucky.  There were no book stores for miles around.  But, we had a library and we lived in the country so  the bookmobile came around every two weeks.  My brother worked on the railroad so when he went to a town where there was a bookstore, he always brought me back books. 

He got married when I was in my early teens and when he and his wife had a baby, I loved hanging out at their house.  It went well for a while but then my sister-in-law's drinking became a wedge between her and every single area of her life.  It was ugly.  We became distant.  Everyone just wanted to steer clear of the insanity that is alcoholism.  I grew up, got married and moved away.  Then my own cloud of addiction entered the picture.  They say that if you don't deal with things in your life, God will continue to give you opportunities to learn from them and so I guess he did.

Yesterday was the first time that I've really talked to my niece.  Oh we've chatted, but yesterday we talked about what was/is real.  And it was such a blessing.  This little girl that I knew is now a grown woman carrying scars from addiction but surviving it.  She is a loving mother, good wife and so diligent in providing for her children, what she did not have.  I am so impressed.  But, I want her to learn to take care of herself and to model that for her children. 

I want to get to know her again.  I want to get to know the others.  Addiction is the big elephant in the family room of my big extended family.  If we all gathered at the same time, we could form our own Al Anon group and probably an AA group as well.  I just think it's time we started to talk to each other. 

In other news, it is the second day of lent and the time changes this weekend.  I can't believe it's spring forward time again.  It's been so  cold that it doesn't seem like it can be that time, already.  Weight Watchers was cancelled due to weather which bummed me out because tracking both food and weight really help me. 

Big Sister got an invitation to interview for a position in a PhD program in Louisiana.  We are going down next weekend for a tour and a day of events followed by her interview.  I think she was shocked by the invitation.  She only expected to be accepted into masters programs. 

The Son is working for his Dad until he gets a new job.  I have a lot of concerns about that.  I really want to be careful that we aren't enabling.  We did need an employee and he had just quit a job but it can be a slippery slope.  Praying you guys.

 

Look Back but Don't Stare......

Sparkling sunshine and sixty-three degrees are responsible for the spring in my step today.  I can't get that "Happy" song by Pharrell Williams out of my head either.  I think that  has to do with getting on the scales this morning.  I seem to have a pattern.  I will be at a certain weight ( number) and then it will go down a number and the next day back up again for a few days and then down until it settles there.  This morning I skipped a whole number!  I've been going to Weight Watchers for four weeks....actually five but four weeks of weigh-ins and I've only lost 7.2 lbs.  I know it is respectable but skipping a whole number is pretty cool when it's been slow progress.

The Son had been doing really well until the weekend and we saw a slip.  Granted, he has never given up alcohol altogether so it was/is inevitable.  But, it brings you back to those old fear and worry places.  The Dad is having a particularly tough time with the anxiety it brings.  It's hard to detach from worry when he is worrying so.  I need to distance myself from it and he wears it all over his face.  I guess we are both at different places in our journey.

Big Sister is having panic attacks over finances.  She is now financially independent, at least until she goes to grad school in the fall.  She is about to begin some research with a professor from her undergrad program and she has to spend money to register the research.  She has application fees for grad schools, she has to be a bridesmaid in a friend's wedding.........It seems unending sometimes.

Some of my "birdies" from the Homeward Bound program are out and taking steps to life outside.  They are a little like my scales...up and down until they settle one way or another.  They help me learn to manage expectation.  I catch myself getting tied up in their progress.  The new class is really going well.  Each class seems to carry it's own tone.  This class is an eager one for healthy change.  Investing yourself into the cause of addiction is very difficult when you aren't that great with slow change.  I guess God is teaching me patience. 

Hoping you are all doing well.  Oh, the title came from my Al Anon meeting last night.  I loved it.  Praying for all of you.

 

Put Your Money Where Your Mouth is, Sister....

I've read a lot about things that help an addict to heal some of the issues which might fuel their addiction (yes I know there is no cure.....my idea was that this falls under the ".....change the things that you can...." idea...no scolding comments, please).  I've read about attachment and shame.  I work (note present tense) the twelve steps continuously, initially of course in an effort to fix my addicted loved ones.  I have read about the need to examine the hurts of childhood and to grieve them and release them.  And, for the most part, I have accepted that I can only fix me.  To that end, I go to Al Anon.  I pray and meditate, I volunteer at the local jail.  I try to mind my own business....through gritted teeth and white knuckles.

But, if I have the hope that my addicted loved ones will take the necessary steps to find serenity in their lives then perhaps it is time for me to do the same.  Late last year I decided to try to enter a study at Vanderbilt University for diabetics not using insulin.  It was a very interesting study in many ways.  Regardless of which group ( control or study group) I would have randomly been selected for, I would have had supervision from a registered dietitian for six months.  Also during that time, I would have four different occasions where they would give me a stimulant and put me in an MRI and PET scan to flash food pictures at me while they watched my brain activity.  How cool is that? 

I had hoped that this focus on healthy eating would help me get my eating ( my addiction) on a path that would lead to a healthy weight, thus a healthier me.  I was DENIED.  I had been feeling really bad and a little hopeless that this problem would ever change.  The fact is diabetes and weight get harder and harder to manage as time goes by.  I was very down. 

You see I am larger than I have ever been.  My family has begged me to get healthy since the kids were little.  They watched both grandmothers go through the awful process of dialysis as their kidneys failed as a result of diabetes and high blood pressure.  And, in May, I turn the big 5-0!!!  I am on medicine for the diabetes, high blood pressure and my heart.  My eyesight is bad and it is harder and harder for them to prescribe the right glasses when my blood sugar runs high.  I was denied participation in the study because of my heart issues (arrhythmia).

My weight has always been a great source of shame for me.  I have never told my husband a number.  That number stifles me.  It means that I am less than.  It means that I am a loser.  It means that I am lazy and undisciplined.  Does all of that self talk remind you of anything?  Well, it did me and so I thought that if I expected my addicted loved ones to deal with it...already, then maybe I should put my money where my mouth is.

On January 1, 2014, I weighed ten pounds more than I did at nine months pregnant with my son.  There it is.  It's not a number yet, but I'm working up the courage for that.  I started trying to eliminate sweets from my diet.  I started to feel a little lighter but I never weighed.  The last week of January, I joined Weight Watchers.  I had done it before and it worked.  But, until now I knew that I wasn't ready.  I don't know what changed other than the fact that I finally associated step one with my weight and began praying about it, because I did not/do not know how to live day in and day out without eating the southern food that I grew up learning to prepare which always, always ends with dessert. 

After week one, I lost four pounds.  I was very excited and hopeful.  Some days were hard.  Some days I didn't totally comply.  But, this time, it was different because when I slipped, I got back up again.  Week two I started and I continued slipping day after day.  I felt pretty bad about the week as a whole.  I had tried as we often do, to make it work the way I wanted it to, plus Super Bowl Sunday was bad no matter how healthy I tried to make it.  I wanted to skip my weigh in.  I did not want to go and face those ladies.  But this time I realized that what I dreaded so intensely is exactly what alcoholics and addicts faced all of the time.  So I went and I weighed in and I gained .8 pound.  And, when I came home, I told my family directly instead of hiding in shame and guilt.

I'm going back too.  I'm trying again, today.  That's what I expect of them.  This morning when I stepped on the scales, I realized that since January 1, I am at my nine month pregnancy weight with my son again.  I'm not the largest anymore.  I'm not as ashamed telling anymore.  People understand.  They relate.  How foolish we can all be my friends.  Welcome to my journey.  You are a safe group to be vulnerable with.

I am happy to report that my little friend from Homeward Bound went to court, paid her fine and has that behind her.  And, when she asked me how she could get a job when she couldn't drive to work, I told her to ask around in her meetings.  I told her that many, many people start out without cars and rely on those who have started out just like she is.  The pre Al Anon me would have looked up job listings, worked out a schedule to pick her up and made my life a living resentful nightmare. 

Happy and Praying....for all of you and your loved ones.