Saturday, January 17, 2009
(Written before I figured out how to have two separate blogs that don't connect, etc.... finally just got a new g.mail account which I'll never use for anything except this blog...)
No one makes it through life without sadness, without pain, without loss. I've been lucky my whole life. I still have my parents. I had my grandparents until way longer than most of my friends. I had a really good childhood, a home where I knew I was loved and treasured. Even when times were tough, or Dad was between jobs, we were okay. We worked together. We supported each other. We were not perfect. In fact, far from it. But I really had a charmed life.
But all around me, growing up, I watched others go through bad things. Sad things. I grew up and got married and watched my peers lose parents, fight cancer, deal with family trauma and drama. I almost felt guilty at times, because I had never really been through anything horrible like some of my friends. (I had a short-lived (six weeks) marriage to a boy I thought I'd grow old with, and woke up one day to find he was gone. Still, not the end of the world.)
Now, I'm 53. I'm healthy (relatively), still have Mom and Dad. My second marriage has been to a "keeper". Our marriage is not perfect, but despite some near fatal faltering, we've worked things through, worked things out, and DH and I have kept on trying. My daughters are grown. I love them both so much.
DD1 lives with us still, at age 28. She has a college degree, a well-paying job that she hates but perserveres at, and she loves her friends, her life, her concerts and activities. She is sober. She considers herself an alcoholic, but has not had a drink in almost two years. She says she never will. Thus far, she has never used drugs.
DD2 no longer lives with us. She is a bipolar, alcoholic/addict. For eight years now. Our world as we knew it collapsed on her 18th birthday when it became apparent that she was using and had been using long enough to become addicted. Her drug of choice for a while was meth with some heroin on occasion. She is now 26. This last relapse, she went straight to heroin.
I thought for so long that we'd "fix" it, find a cure, get her the help she needed. During that eight years, she even had one stint of sobriety that lasted almost two years.
I guess this is my big sad. One of my friends has battled breast cancer. Another is losing her husband to brain cancer, probably way sooner we'd like to realize. I figure this is just my turn. I wasn't going to get through life without something ripping my heart out.
It's consumed us for so long. I'm sure my friends are a bit sick of hearing about it. I tried to hide the severity of it for a while. Then I got real (almost defiantly) talkative about it. Now I'm trying to keep it to myself more.
I am trying to get some insight from Alanon and Naranon. I haven't been to face-to-face meetings yet, but I think I may try some.
I have found blogs of other moms going through this. What an eye opener it was to find that there are so many of us going through this.... struggling through work, family and personal obligations every day while trying so hard not to focus on the fact that our child may be sitting in a storage unit somewhere with a needle hanging out of his or her arm. I'm not the only one who wakes each morning and in that twilight zone between sleep and full awareness, struggles with the question of what is wrong?.....I know something is.....what is it... oh, God... That's it. There is a physical thud in my chest as my heart stalls and then fumbles on. Is she still alive?
I get that first hour or so of the day under my belt and then begin to breathe a little easier, because I rationalize that the police did not come by to knock on the door to deliver that final bit of bad news. (For some reason, I think that kind of bad news would come after I've waked up, but before their shift change. This, despite the fact that they've rousted us at 2 AM to toss our house for evidence after her most recent arrest.)
Each day, I have sat down to work in my home office, after checking the "Who's in Jail" website for our county.
I'm not sure if I will continue this blog or not. I read many other blogs written by women in my situation. They seem to find it helpful to write, and they have met supportive friends, etc. through blogging. I think my goal right now is to learn how to obtain some peace, some serenity, some detachment.
I need to concentrate on taking care of me, my health and my personal happiness. I am trying very hard to squeeze out time in my sewing room, creating things. That gives me satisfaction and happiness. I make quilts for family and friends, but also I'm trying to make more of them for chemo patients, sobriety birthdays, etc.
I am trying to spend quality time with my oldest daugher who lives with us - what a blessing. We don't see eye to eye on some things, which is normal, but she truly appreciates the opportunity to remain with us during these economic times. She's talking of moving with us someday, when we find our "retirement location" and going back to school nearby, etc. Seems she'd like another degree! I say "go for it!" Education is never wasted, in my opinion.
And it is nice to have someone nearby who gives a damn and can check on us old farts!
Right now my youngest daughter is in jail. She is awaiting a judge's decision, upon reviewing her medical records/police records, about either admission to a residential/dual diagnosis treatment center at county expense, or more time in jail, or maybe even time in prison.
My crying jags are briefer. The pain is not. I'm just getting better at "stuffing it down". So there's the first entry. Every blog has to start somewhere.
So, Welcome to my big sad.