"Keep your eyes fixed on where you're going."  Shouted Mr. Gray, an old cowboy who was trying to teach me to ride my horse, Bo. 

He would say this over and over again because, I was easily distracted.  "If  you keep your eyes fixed on your destination, he will head in that direction."  He said.

But, how will he know where my eyes are fixed, I wondered.  Mr. Gray continued as if knowing my question, " He can feel a fly on his back.  He will feel the slightest shift in your weight as you look around."

I began to learn that he was right.  If  I looked down at my feet, or looked at something to my left or right, he became distracted.

Today, Lucy, my little long haired dachshund, and I were out for our morning walk.  She was wandering more than usual, and I was wondering why she seemed so distracted.  Just as I began to think about why, the memory of those riding lessons came to mind.  So, I fixed my gaze on the path that I intended to walk, and like magic, Lucy straightened her path.

St. Francis of Assisi is attributed to the quote,

 "Preach the gospel at all times and when necessary, use words."

I began to understand how to preach the gospel, without opening my mouth through my twelve-step program.  I had to mind my own business--clean my own house, first.  I cannot force anyone to follow my lead.  But if  I examine my motives carefully and am purposefully seeking to follow the will of God, by attraction, others may follow.

 If I have my gaze fixed on the will of my 'power which is greater than myself--God', then my weight will stop shifting in all sorts of conflicting directions.  It will be clear that there is confidence in where I am going.

We went to a family funeral last weekend.  It was a hotbed of distraction.  There have been disagreements.  There is division to the point of some family members refusing to speak to others even in a place where a family should come together. 

It was so stressful that when I got home, I got physically sick.  Those family systems can be toxic.  It gets confusing.  How do you honor your parents if they try to force you to go against all that you believe in?

It is no wonder why we self medicate. 

I was so grateful to come home.  It is where I can slow it all down.  I can call on the Serenity Prayer and work on discernment.  Then, I try to do what I need to do to take care of myself...Today.  That is all that I need to figure out.

Prayer and meditation are wonderful gifts.  I can pray for guidance and through meditation, I listen.  God's grace floods my mind with all sorts of ideas and thoughts to help me understand; thoughts to remind me to stop looking around. 

"Fix your eyes" I can almost hear Him say.  And so today, that is where I will place my focus. 

Addiction gave me these tools.  I would not have them if it had not been for the difficult journey of addiction.  Out of difficulty, there is blessing.  Always.

I'm praying for 'the Henry's' in my life and yours.

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.
 

Three Steps in Three Years

A couple of days ago, the Dad and I received a call from the Son's work.  It was 6pm and the Son was supposed to be at work at 4pm.  He was a no show and they were worried about him.  He had been late for the last two days.  This is the kind of call we all worry about receiving. 

The Dad called one of his friends to see if he knew how to get in touch with him (his phone had run out of minutes).  He hadn't heard from him.  So the Dad decided to drive to the city to try to roust him in his apartment.  Of course our first thought, as many of you can easily guess was, "will we find him alive?"

I didn't go with the Dad.  I calmly said that I just didn't think I could go not knowing what we'd find.  He agreed.  He thought that I should stay home.  Five minutes later the Dad came through the door and said, "he's alive."  His friend managed to find him and he called....... drunk, but he called.

The snowball is starting to roll downhill fast.  And yet, it is sadness that I feel, instead of panic.  All day yesterday I started thinking about the way that I was feeling.  I started to wonder if my heart had grown hard.  The feelings are so different than they were before.  Yes, I am worried.  I know where this is headed.  I know that things will get radically worse before than have any chance of getting better.  But, still I'm not a nervous wreck.  I'm not pasting on a fake smile.  I am a little sad.  I am tired from the ups and downs of this disease.  But anxiety has mostly left the building.

Last night I was to choose the topic for our Al Anon meeting.  I wanted to talk about this most recent experience and so I was trying to get to the root of what had changed.  What had happened to make this frightening experience bearable?  And then I realized that for the first time, I had actually 'made the decision to turn my will and my life over to the care of God as I understand Him.'

Finally, I knew that this madness was out of my control.  Finally, I accepted that God was the only thing that could restore my sanity and finally I decided to allow God to handle this because He knows far better than me.  And, there is peace in this madness.  The anxiety is gone. 

I've been in Al Anon for three years.  There have been a number of times where I've thought that I "had" the first three steps.  But, really it took three years to really get it.  I realize that if I am not careful, I can go right back to insanity.  But for today I am grateful for a loving God who is at the helm.  I am grateful for rest while in His care.  I am grateful for my Al Anon family group. 

Praying always for you and your loved ones.

 

And the Weather Outside is Frightful....

     I am a world away from my life, at present.  I am in not so sunny southern California while my husband attends his annual continuing education conference.  We left the day after emptying the contents of the home that we raised our children in.  The corrupted home where my son began and continued to use drugs under my very nose.  The home where on October 19th, I left with him in tow to detox in a psychiatric hospital before entering a 12 step immersion retreat, telling him, "you will never come back to this house again," as if the home itself was a cause of this problem.  And, while I know that it is not, I do feel that that house is an ugly reminder of many things gone wrong.  I do know that I would always worry that it would be a trigger for him.

     Not only am I a world away from the life I knew physically, but emotionally and mentally.  The move is a physical change that comes about to mark a lot of interior change happening in the heart and mind of this family.  This trip was one for peace in mind and heart.  It is a trip to begin a practice of letting go of everything to the wisdom and guidance of my heavenly Father.  It is a relief, in fact to have traveled to this place.

    While I have made many steps in the right direction, I have many more to go.  My son's time at this program is creeping ever closer to a close where he will embark on the next, not so safe step, in his recovery.  He will enter a recovery house as soon as he leaves that program.  So, letting go will be tested again very soon.  This has entered the minds of both me and his dad as the dad woke very early this morning to a nightmare of the son coming home high. 

     There is a lot of work to do to travel to the place of "holy indifference".  But, it is the destination.  Today, I am thankful for the sale of our home.  I am thankful that the move is complete.  I am thankful for recovery for our son.  I am thankful for a simpler lifestyle.  I pray for continued recovery for all of our addicted loved ones and as always, I say a prayer for the soul of Henry.

    

 

A Little Lost

  Trust is a detachment from control ( my definition...don't quote me).  I'm having a spectacularly difficult time resting in faith, right now.  My house is exactly one week away from closing, if all goes well.  I sit here typing while waiting on the appraiser to arrive; the last item on the list of things to do before closing.  It makes me a nervous wreck.  Tomorrow we have another showing.  Our realtor does not believe in taking chances and will continue to show it until the ink dries.

Son is at his 12 step immersion retreat and the counselor called saying that he was doing well but moving slowly with regard to the first step.  So, now I'm worrying about that.  Why oh why do I do this?  Someone please tell me how to turn this off.

I want so desperately to do things differently this time around.  As I sit here to write, I start to dig out my feelings and I think that I am afraid to accept the possibility that he might not make it.  I am afraid of totally letting him go back into addiction because if he does, I will not be able to afford to put him in a safe place to recover.  I am afraid of this disease taking him completely.  I am afraid to entertain the thought of burying my son.

There it is, my greatest fear.  And some how, my worrying about the fact that he is struggling with the first step leads me straight to the worst possible scenario.  I wonder if parenting a child who suffers from drug addiction counts for time off in purgatory? 

Today is another day in the desert.  I'm so tired of of the mountains of worry here.  I hate addiction.  I hate feeling so lost.  I know that God has been so good.  I know that I could turn all of this around and look at it from the point of gratitude. 

He is in recovery.  Thanks be to God.  There is a contract on the house.  Thanks be to God.  He is struggling with this first step, but he's got ten other young men there to help him ( and they are trying to teach him to ask for help which they say he has trouble with) and maybe this is one big step in changing the way he does business.  Thanks be to God.

Ignatian spirituality teaches us to have "holy indifference" to anything and everything.  That requires a great deal of trust.  The reason I can't trust that much is because I want it to turn out the way I want it.  I don't trust enough to let go of my will, not all of the time anyway.

So, I sit here a little lost and fearful.  I will continue to pray for courage.  I am thankful for this opportunity for recovery for both son and for myself.  I am thankful for the contract on the house.  I am thankful for good friends and family.  I pray for recovery for all of our addicted loved ones.  And, as always one for Henry.

 

Split the Baby

Today is a day that I have feared for a very long time.  It is a day that used to make me beg and plead with God to help me to avoid.  But, in His goodness, He has prepared me for this day and I mainly feel relief.  This is shocking to me on many levels.  But, when you finally trust, you are given clarity.

It became apparent to my husband and I that addiction is who we've been dealing with, not my son.  When someone has a problem with addiction, drugs are their god, their father, their mother, their brothers and sisters....their everything.  All interactions between the addict and anyone else are motivated by a need to get anything they can to continue their habit. 

Unsure of where to draw the line while letting go, my husband called a counselor who advised us to cut all ties including his phone, which I was very nervous about taking away, because this was for me, so that I could check on him.  He also advised us to tell him not to call us unless he was ready to go to treatment.   So, today with hands shaking, I dialed the cell phone company and asked them to disconnect the phone.  The lady explained that there would be all sorts of penalties for ending the contract early.  I told her that I knew but that my husband and I needed to stop enabling our son.  She was very kind after that and helped to shut the phone off immediately instead of it taking until the end of the billing cycle. 

Then I had to wait.  I was so nervous about his phone call.  I knew that he would call and be mad.  I knew that it would be hard to tell my son not to call me.  I didn't know how I could do it.  Then, I started to get these thoughts.  I know they were directly from God because they came from nowhere.  I started thinking about how I've struggled to truly hand my son over to God.  I have handed him over but not totally let go.  I've fed him, helped with laundry and called him.  He doesn't call me....unless he wants something.  I started thinking about Soloman and the two harlots with the two babies.  One of the babies died in the night and the women fought over whose baby had lived.  Soloman suggested that they cut the baby in half and the real mother said no let him live, give him to her.  Soloman knew that she was the real mother.  I've been asking God to split my baby......until today.  Today God gave me the courage and wisdom to know that I had to give up something that I really don't have in the first place.

I talked with my son.  I told him not to call unless he wanted treatment.  He tried to manipulate but I didn't bite.   I was strong because I wasn't talking to my son.  I was talking to addiction.  I hate addiction.  I will not back down from addiction.  I'm mad now.  I'm fighting for my son. 

I am thankful on this day for God's amazing grace.  I am thankful for clarity, understanding and courage.  I am thankful for all of the wonderful folks who are praying for us daily.  I pray for my son to fight addiction as hard as I intend to.  And, as always, I pray for Henry.  In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.  Amen.