Learning from an addict…
I haven’t posted since my post Christmas bitching, and I didn’t respond to the last comment left (no, Maven, I don’t think you are a bad person at all, I just found my buttons being pushed that day in a big way…) because we’ve been celebrating our holiday finally.
Mr. Knowitall, my oldest, came home with Cricket and Gothboy for a couple of weeks and I’ve been spending as much time with him as both of our psyches can allow. It has been, if nothing else, extremely emotionally draining on both of us.
See, Mr. Knowitall left home on bad terms. We have a shared past of grief and it isn’t easy on either of us. He blamed me, and probably rightfully so, for not protecting him better when he was younger. He carried around a lot of anger, and his violence was tearing at the family. In a last act of desperation, I sent him to spend his 17th year with his father. In hindsight, this probably wasn’t the best decision, as he was even more angry with his father than he was with me. Maybe it was, only time will tell. Healing takes time, and he has a lot to move through.
I have hinted at the past, but I probably won’t ever get the whole story out, not here… it’s too much to type and most of you wouldn’t be interested. Some of you were there, some watching and some involved, but most of you were neither there nor care, and that’s okay with me. Mostly, I try to forget about it, or at the least, learn from it and move forward.
Ever have one of those relationships that you just know is going to kill you? You can feel it, but you can’t withdraw from it. There are a million reasons why, and none of them are really more than excuses because you are too afraid to move forward. The demon you know is better than the one you don’t.
I tried to console myself that the target of my partner’s anger and rage was myself, that my children didn’t have to bear the brunt of his anger. I tried, and I failed, because I know it isn’t true. The younger children were mostly spared, but Mr. Knowitall wasn’t. Not from the verbal tirades, and in the end, not from the … well, let’s not ride the bus down memory lane, let’s just say that in the end, it was bad. Very. Fucking. Bad.
Mr. Knowitall has just come out rehab, and he is bound and determined to stay clean. He has goals and dreams, plans for the future, and I’m proud of his strength. He is going to nightly NA meetings, and I’ve gone to a few with him. Mostly to show him support and be there for him, but also to learn.
There are many faces of addiction. Everyone has a story to tell. Mostly, they talk about where they are today and how they plan on staying there. It’s amazing to listen, and to listen without judgment. I could say, “Well hell, bad things happened to me and I’m not an addict,” but that doesn’t do justice to those who are and who are fighting to stay clean.
It’s also painful to listen. To sit silently while my son talks ever so briefly about what started him down that road, knowing that if I weren’t there, he’d say so much more, but honored that he lets me come in the first place. I failed him, and that’s a very bitter pill to swallow. I’m having to learn to let go of that, but I’m skilled in the fine art of kicking the shit out of myself, so I don’t think that’s going to happen very quickly.
Anyway, the point of the blather and babble, I’ve learned a lot in the last week. Mostly about myself and my reactions to things, how I’m perhaps too quick to judge and not quick enough to forgive. I’m quietly re-evaluating some of my goals for this year, I think this past week has opened some new doors for me and closed some others; we’ll see what comes of walking through.
I hope the new year brings us all happiness and prosperity; if nothing else, a bit of peace and quiet from the internal whisperings of demons who have more than worn out their welcome.
Blessed Be.