the widening gyre

The Second Coming
W.B. Yeats

Turning and turning in the widening gyre

The falcon cannot hear the falconer;

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The best lack all conviction, while the worst

Are full of passionate intensity.

...

The darkness drops again; but now I know

That twenty centuries of stony sleep

Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,

And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,

Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

Well. That was a week. After three weeks of peace and life being about life while The Oldest was out of town, he texted me last Monday. "Mom, I need help." It's my deepest hope and my deepest fear in three words. I asked if he meant it. If he was really ready. I asked what he needed: "I just need a hug." "I'll go anywhere and talk to anybody you say." I flew him home the next day. 

Even driving in from the airport though, I knew this wasn't what it seemed like. I knew that once again I had believed what I wanted to. That we'd thrown our house into turmoil to no avail. That we'd brought home someone who wasn't ready for a home. I mentioned a treatment centre. He said "treatment for what?" When I said addiction, he said that's not what he needed help with. 

Up and down. Round and round. Five days of promises and changes and "just talking to my friends helps." By friends he means weed and alcohol and ... who knows. 

Trying to be clear without nagging, I remind him of his promise again and again - Anywhere. Anyone. Those were the words he'd said.

But clearly I just don't understand. 

So today when the addictions counselor he'd agreed to see called me to let me know he'd stood her up again, I knew I had to draw a line in the sand and stand behind it. Luckily, I had an appointment with my counselor right after that phone call, and he gave me some great ways to look at this, some affirming perspective. Some key phrases. There's no good news here, but it also doesn't have to be a total failure - he asked. I responded. That small dance is it's own win. 

When My Man and I got home tonight, The Oldest was waiting in the hammock. We all walked in together, made a little small talk - me rehearsing over and over in my head how to tell him this would be his last night here until he gets help - when out of the blue The Oldest said "I'm going to sleep at Buddy's. I'm just grabbing my stuff." I offered a ride. I asked what was up. He has work, steady work, staring early tomorrow. Buddy's house is more convenient. 

But he was too quiet. The whole ride to Buddy's he was quiet. And you never know with The Oldest what the quiet means - anger? Sadness? Guilt? Did he know I was about to kick him out? He hugged me. And thanked me. And said he'd see me soon. 

I didn't get to deliver my carefully rehearsed speech. But I know this isn't the end. Maybe there will be no end. All I'm left with is a widening gyre. And some rough beast, slouching towards bedlam. 

happy, with a side of skepticism

The Little One has been living with My Man and I for three weeks now, and doing an amazing job after a disappointing 'return home and start over' roll in the game of life. He's enrolled in finishing his grade 12, pre-registered for college (final acceptance depends on summer school grades), has a full-time job already at a place he likes. He's ticking along. We've adjusted to always wearing pants in the house and having a pet again. Oh, and he's off his prescription meds and still stable mentally - sleeping well, clear headed, eating good meals, setting long-term goals, etc. Smoking weed, but stable. The other day he told me he's looking forward to starting college in the fall so he can 'have some intelligent conversations and make some friends he doesn't have to be stoned to be around.' Good goal, son. Good goal.

The Oldest has been stable for a while. I don't ask a whole lot about how much he's using. It goes up and down, I suppose, and yet he's living in a great apartment, showing up for work, paying off debts, working out regularly, meeting new people, planning some travel. He visits and gardens and takes an interest in our lives. He's even reconnected with his dad and managed to visit him and have a good time.

Things are ticking along. Not unlike a bomb, those the wary amongst us who've been here before. I emailed friends and family an update the other day and one response said 'keep an eye out for The Little One - people with depression tend to get worse when things go well.' Sigh.

After dinner last night, The Oldest gave me a heart-felt thank you speech for always doing my best, never giving up on them, keeping my faith and love for them while letting them find their own way, etc.

And I thought (but managed not to say) 'why does this sound so much like his suicide note from last year?' He did follow it up with saying he's feeling good about himself and life. I told him that I'm very proud of how he's pulled himself together the last couple months, and that I'm still eager for him to restore his relationship with his grandparents. He shrugged - not because it doesn't matter, but because he doesn't think sorry is enough and doesn't know what else there is.

Things are good. And I'm grateful. And I wonder what it will take to stop waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I read in the paper today about a new group starting in town for family members of people with mental health and addiction issues. I might just have to keep an eye out for that. I think I might now someone they could help.

when alive isn't enough

I friend of mine has just completed 6 months of the most horrifying experience I can imagine - at New Years her 6 year old daughter was diagnosed with a brain tumour. They went through several weeks at Sick Kids hospital in Toronto, biopsy & tests & displacement & separation from their teenage daughter at home, then back home for months of chemo, tests, disruption, side-effects, radiation, and more tests and more side-effects.

There are permanent changes to her daughter's brain - personality, learning, eye sight, endocrine system, etc. And it will be years and years before they know the full extent of the changes. And yet, they survived. At least the initial intense battles. The family is drained, and they survived.

But my friend posted today on Facebook, 'Is it awful that 'alive' is not enough some days? ...' I wish I didn't get it, but I so so do. When first The Oldest and then The Little One tried to die last year, I bargained and pleaded and made deals with God and with them - just stay alive. We can work with anything else.

And then, the rest happened. The Little One's mental illnesses. The Oldest's addictions and stealing from his grandparents.

They are alive. And actually doing relatively well. The Little One has had what he considers a set back lately, and has moved back home to return to school. He sees it as a set-back; I see it as a really great choice that will set him up for the future.

But really, things are not better. They are not dealt with. And maybe it will be years, or a lifetime, before we ever really feel okay again. Before The Oldest sees that making amends with his family is better than whatever he's protecting in himself. Before we really know what The Little One's brain needs to make life simpler for him.

Alive is enough, and we can work with everything else. Except on the days when it's not. And then ... then we have to look to others to get us through. And I think that's okay too.

and on it goes

The Little One sent me a note on Facebook tonight letting me know that he was going to say some things in a note that he'd been holding back from the family, and that it's the kind of thing that freaks everyone out, and I should be prepared and let them know he's okay, because he is. Okay being a relative term these days.

Said note, lack of capitalization & wacky spelling and all:

not sure if i should do this but here gos 

i believe in complete honesty as being the best way for a person to continue moving forward.{did not allways think this way} for the past five years that i have tried to stick to this i used a much simpler form of lying: omission. out of all the things i have seen heard and thought of in my life i can only admit to two people ever coming close to knowing any of it. neither of them were doctors and neither could have come close to knowing how to help me cope. i dont trust doctors and there "professionalism". its them being professional that means they wont share, if they have a bad day theyll hide it what is that teaching you. a shrink could actually be someone with the introverted agenda of worsening peoples conditions so that they are forced to coninue making regular visits.{dont really think theres a doc like that just a possibility} but i digress. the point is i prefer to confide seperate things into different people that i think i can trust as they come up. problem is all those people have had superficial nonlasting relationships with me resulting in ever worse conditions for being able to even admit that i am bothered let alone what is doing the bothering. i know where my first experience was that basically ruined the innocence every child needs preserved and i know that none of my familly knows what it was and both of those two people i told had forgotten about it the next time i brought it up.{so i never would again} my most recent attempt on my life {bit more than 1 year ago} was actually caused by being in a bad place when this repressed memory came to the surface. somehow i can make myself forget it im actually not to surprised i have a horrible memory which only gets worse with my rampant pot use. this experience is not what caused my condition but it with my compounded other difficulties to completing goals or even simple tasks makes every day a struggle. i find it hard to explain and i dont think anybody really understands but my depression is not the type that comes and gos or can be brought on by a sad experience. it is instead an inability to produce the normal amount of endorphines. {mind happiness syrum} so my high is a low and my low is lower still. the extra cool side to this is since its actually my mind failing it only gets worse and by being silly and doing some of the drugs i did i caused schizophrenic episodes. now on its own my form of depression makes me hear things that arent there.{not voices in my head} so when i had schizo episodes i knew they were fake and didnt really care till they would happen everyday sober. now i have stopped using the drugs that cause this i dont have schizophrenic episodes anymore it just shows the depths i can be sucked into. now ive explained all this because thinking about it i realised most of my familly has expressed sympathy and a wish to help and mostly been rebuked with plain dismissal{sorry} and that is because i know nobody has an inkling of the full gravity of the uphill battle i must face until i die. and since only the people who care enough are actually going to read all this nuts stuff youve now all been fully informed. im fine i would never have written any of this if i wasnt trying to break through my own barriers. i have written this sort of stuff for a long time and allways in this fashion yet refuse to share it comepletely. i just figure its about time i properly explained why i can sit around all day with everything takin care of for me and still be angry, depressed and lazy no matter what anybody does about it because honestly i cant do jack about it other than keep on trucking into the next sunset.

So I called him. And I asked about the repressed memory and the incident in his childhood and he would only talk around it and say it's not the point. So I tried to ask what he needs moving forward, and, well, there weren't many answers there either.

It's all a little crazy-making, and I'm not the one who hears voices. I don't know how something - whatever it was - could have happened and my little boys not tell me about it. He says it wasn't sexual and he wasn't hurt, so what could steal his innocence and his childhood and need hiding for all these years and wreak all this havoc in his young brain? And why didn't I know? Why didn't he say? And The Oldest was there. And what does all this have to do with his demons now?

I know in many ways The Little One is right - it doesn't matter now except to move forward. But I'm such a firm believer that you can't move forward dragging incomplete messes from the past behind you. Maybe he isn't. Maybe he got more out of his years of seeing a psychiatrist than he admits.

It's just gut-wrenching to keep learning these things. And to not know what to do about it. Ironically (or do I mean coincidentally?), I had lunch today with someone who was talking about her mom's incredible love, compassion and grace for people, except the Nazis (who she'd escaped as a young woman) and those who messed with children - those two groups should be dealt with swiftly and with finality.

I have to say, I'm in agreement right now. I don't know the enemy, or what he did. But I know he should hope not to run into me.

And I'll do a little looking to see if I can find some grace for myself. All I can see right now are two beautiful little blonde boys who had something life-changing happen that they couldn't tell their mom about. And that's a hard truth to bear.

he has a point

It's been a little weird for me of late - I want to continue learning, growing and sharing about my experiences as the mom of a drug addict, and I'm well aware that even though we're in a good spot right now The Oldest is definitely still a drug addict, but ... it seems like without the drama and upset there's little to share.

Except I also feel like maybe this is the perfect time - while he is moving forward and trying to create a future and experiencing some successes - for The Oldest to be dealing with the stuff he'd rather forget. Both the wrongs done to him and the wrongs he's done.

We had a really wonderful Mother's Day - he invited me out for lunch days before, which I'm pretty sure is a first. The day of, we had fun and laughed and enjoyed time together - he bought lunch and gave me chocolate. The boy does know his mother well. And then we bought seeds and spent the afternoon gardening with My Man and his kids. We were just like any other healthy, happy family (though I did really miss The Little One).

But I couldn't ignore little snippets of conversation here and there that reminded me who we are and what we're dealing with. I mentioned his grandparents and what they were up to, and he stiffened. He said he hopes they're doing well, but he stiffened. I mentioned how well My Man and his ex-wife work together, and how I could never imagine The Oldest's dad and I like that, and he looked away and muttered "I don't get what his problem is."

I asked what that was about, and he told me that his dad has declared he won't talk to The Oldest until he gets professional help. So here's a kid who is trying to get his life together, and the one person who has been missing for years - the person who if he really showed up would make more difference than all of us who've been here all along - has once again opted out.

It's not new or surprising; it's frustrating and predictable and sad. I watched The Oldest try to shake it off. To say, like he believed it, that his father has always really ended up making things worse and it didn't matter.

But despite his protestations, there's a little boy in there who still wants his dad to give a damn. Who remembers a time when he was the apple of his father's eye.

When we were married and I had a complaint, his dad's response was always "it's not like I beat you or drink or fool around,' and his approach to fathering has become similarly lame - he doesn't do the worst things possible, so we should lay off expecting his best. When The Oldest says 'it's not like he adds much to my life anyway', it takes more willpower and wisdom than I have to have him see another side to things.

I don't for a second believe that I've not made any mistakes, or that his dad is 100% a villain. But ... why cut off your own son when he's got a healthy place to live and a good job he's reliably showing up for. When he's applied to go back to school in the fall, and is making long-term plans and taking steps to have them happen. When he's assessing which friendships support him and which hold him back. When he's exploring hobbies and interests and sports and building new friendship with people who have interests other than getting high. When he's asking for information, not money. When he's riding a wave and needs nothing but encouragement to keep it going.

Yes, I am full of judgment about The Oldest's father. And full of dread about when the next fall will happen. And I am sad that right now, in this moment when he's doing so well, there are so few who will celebrate that as loudly as they crow when he falls. And, I can't help thinking that these are the times to really deal with the past - not when things fall apart again.

stand

Reminded tonight of this powerful song. And this powerful admonition. Need to keep it where I can find it when needed.

"Stand"

What do you do when you've done all you can
And it seems like it's never enough?

And what do you say when your friends turn away
And you're all alone,alone?

Tell me,What do you give when you've given your all
And it seems you can't make it through?

Well you just stand when there's nothing left to do
You just stand,watch the Lord see you through
Yes, after you've done all you can, you just stand

Tell me, how do you handle the guilt of your past?
Tell me, how do you deal with the shame?
And how can you smile while your heart has been broken
And filled with pain, filled with pain?
Tell me what do you give when you've given your all
And it seems like you can't make it through?

Child, you just stand when there's nothing left to do
You just stand, watch the lord see you through
Yes, after you've done all you can, you just stand

Stand and be sure
Be not entangled in that bondage again
You just stand, and endure
God has a purpose,Yes god has a plan

Tell me what do you do when you've done all you can
And it seem like you cant make it through?
Child, you just stand,you just stand, stand

Don't dare give up through the storm, stand through the rain
Through the hurt,yeah,through the pain
Don't you bow, and don't bend don't give up, no, don't give in
Hold on, just be strong, God will step in and it won't be long

After you've done all you can, after you've done all you can
After you've gone through the hurt, after you've gone through the pain
After you've gone through the storm, after you've gone through the rain
Prayed and cried, prayed and cried
Prayed and cried
Prayed and cried, oh my

After you done all you can you just stand

The Best of Times?

Work has been busy. Life has been even busier. So even though I've had lots of things I wanted to share and lots of conversations with The Oldest and The Little One, I just haven't quite gotten over here to share.

I suppose in a lot of ways there's more for me to say when things are going wrong. But the nature of addiction is that things go well, and then ... less so. And right now we're in a good spell with The Oldest  He's working. He's got a great place to live with a friend who only annoys him about half the time. The 'friend' who he did the worst drugs with has left town. And best of all, he's planning for the future that a year ago he didn't even think was worth living long enough to see.

Things are good. Right now. For The Oldest.  The Little One is struggling. Wobbles happen. So. There's good news - university applications included (rousing cheer!). And I continue to hold my breath. To wait for the wobble to turn into a quake. To wonder who's going to go off the rails next. And I continue to wonder what I'm supposed to be doing about it all.