My Mother use to say, Your first child is sorta like your first pancake, just not cooked quiet right and usually worth throwing out! ( I always loved this quote because I was my mothers last of three) And I can quote her because it was always very evident how close her and my oldest sister were.
But reading thru a blog this morning (thank you Patti) I had a spark of an idea for my own. If I don't jot down these notes I will forget this spark by this afternoon when I can have the time to write!
Cliff Hanger! has to do with Sam and Recovery
Ah now the morning rush is done and it is late afternoon. The skies are so gray and heavy with rain. Most importantly though is I am home alone~ So I will finish my morning thought...
Sam is a very good man, he was a good kid. Being the first born holds a lot of expectations and dreams of others! He went very gothic on us in high school. Experiencing our first teen we wondered what we had done wrong because all the things we did that we knew were right were not putting him on the path we wanted him on. We were going to make him perfect Ha! Feel free to chuckle all of you that have experienced this naiveté.
Only thing I did know for certain was there was not much we could do after he started college to change his mind or attitude. Very honestly I was worn out trying to move a mind as hard as Atlanta's Stone Mountain. I had 3 other children to take care of and his younger brother was right behind him in even more "mischief".
So lets jump ahead to oh, when he was 25.
Through some very colorful events I found myself in a family program for addicts. We had to attend 2 meetings a week for 8 weeks, one with the addict and one with Alanon.
Sam and I walked into that first meeting together and I will admit I was scared of those around me. I was so pissed off that I was having to do this with a child of mine. After all I had survived being raised in an alcoholic home. My survival had gone a step farther...I had given our kids the best we could do for them. I had been very open and honest with them about their gene pool.
It was fall because I remember the leaves made too much noise walking into the building. All the emotion that brewed and stormed inside was completely invisible on the outside. He was so embarrassed by the notion that we had to attend these and surround ourselves with "those" people. All I wanted to do was show him love and support.
As we sat in that first circle of broken-hearted humanity I wondered how this was all going to turn out for us and them. The leader spoke an introduction about addictions, all addictions. The more he spoke the more relaxed I became. It was so affirming. So easy to embrace the psychology of the games we had learned to play back in my home of origin. It was like someone using Windex on a window that had been completely covered in dry, wind blown dirt.
When we left that first night Sam apologized that I had had to come. With a very large smile on my face and a heart filled with gratitude that I know he didnt understand, I replied, "Sam, dont be sorry. These are MY people. These with broken hearts, broken families, broken dreams, we came from the very same neighborhood. I want to thank you for asking me to come. I look forward to the healing that will come from this."
I hugged him. He was confused but relived that I had such a positive attitude, and defiantly said, "they are NOT my people"
Footnote: He finished that 2 year program with out a hitch. His parents did as well. And we are all better for it. He hates that he lost 3 years of his life, I am just thankful he didnt loose his life. He is living again, and most often with a smile on his face. People, humanity is so resourceful at covering hurt, pain, defeat. Many will go to extremes to make it stop, or to cover up their own vulnerability...I do believe that is one very common thread in all of our unique yet similar lives.
