I’m feeling so much better, I don’t even feel like updating this blog. Don’t want to talk about the bad stuff that is behind me. Life is better. I’m sitting in my bedroom in a friend’s house. The roller coaster ride is over for now and I survived. I did not do it alone. And I will never take for granted anything I do for anyone again. A friend has given me and my daughter a place to live, no pressure, and I am acutely aware of what life would be without this soft place to land.
My son married a woman I only knew two months before. He knew her for a while, fell in love with her quickly and they sealed the deal. I am glad, though others have told him it was irresponsible and foolish. I disagree. The life he was living was irresponsible and foolish. Now he’s married, they have a home and the two young boys, my grandsons, are living with them. They are doing well. They are having tough times. They are living. I know my son has not completely cut his ties with his past. I know this for a fact. But I no longer take it on as my mission to fix him. God will fix him. Whether it’s an easy fix or a painful one is in the hands of my son. But worry not, God will win.
It’s February 2017. Update
Expectations bring us to a level of life we feel we deserve and hope to be comfortable.
But well, people cheat and people lie. And what is love when there is so much drama and dysfunction encapsulating a shared existence? He tries to make a deal out of every conversation and she’s a bitch. He is whiny and clingy and doesn’t do what he says he will. Ever. She suckerpunched him and broke his front tooth. In my van. Blood everywhere. I called the cops and she was arrested. His tooth was still in place, broken in his mouth and she was on probation for domestic violence when they curled up on the sofa together and slept in each other’s arms.
Now that’s love.
Who else but a drug addict, former or not, is going to be able to stand in front of another drug addict, former or not…married…and still say “I love you” and mean it after that?
For better or worse… THAT is what they promised. Sober, they sat together and talked with his parents just a couple of months before…and admitted they have a hard time getting clean at the same time. One always drags the other down, no matter how much they want a home and a car and a normal life. There are already children. His and hers. Living with his mom and her ex. Oh, how much they want to be a family. But they can’t pull it together, together.
He was arrested for possession. She cheated and then moved in with another man.
But they still love each other.
She KNOWS him and understands why he is the way he is. He knows why she punishes herself and why she trembles and wants to sleep next to him.
They are linked at the hip and will be for life. Different houses; one in jail and one out – then they trade places; needles and drugs; suboxone and clean; it doesn’t matter which is happening. Their desire is the same: to be a family. They are their own biggest problem.
Are they worst off than the pretenders who come home to the same house but never speak? Or those who never fight and brag of their accomplishment not realizing they are doomed?
Honesty, communication, putting the other first… they’ve heard of this myth and wonder if anyone really ever accomplishes it.
Is there hope?
It’s been five years and now they are talking. Really talking. He is sober, in jail. She is writing long letters, learning what she says really does matter to him. He grasps those letters and finds hope in her words where lies once thrived.
It’s exhausting, caring about these two. As a parent, you must eventually find a place of strength and peace, immune to the ebbs and waves of their lives. Your arm is around their children, knowing they need to love their parents, but knowing you will be there to gently guide them into the safety and routine of your home until things really do change for good.
It may never happen. Funny thing is, the kids keep growing up and having birthdays while we wait to see if they are EVER going to pull it together.
It’s sad. It’s devastating. But only if you sit and think about it. There is too much to do. Little jeans and socks to be washed, tutoring, dinner to cook, drive them to the doctor, to school, teacher’s conferences, church, out to visit family…
We’re the lucky ones.
Our addicts are still alive.