My journey with my son has been, well, epic. And not in a good way. It has taken me to the depths and threatened to drown me on more than one occasion. It has caused upheaval, strife and stress in more than one of my other relationships. I have loved him every single day of his life, but I can also tell you there have been some very hard, dark days. Ones where I was not sure either of us was going to make it.
Last summer, his behavior and addiction was so off the charts I had to walk away. I could no longer stand the horrible treatment, abuse and total lack of regard for me and my well being. It was a hard decision. I am not sure if you have ever had to cut off one of your children, one who was not even 18 yet, but it is an ugly hard decision. But about 2 months shy of his 17th birthday, he left home and I let him. If I am honest, I would have packed for him. I wanted him gone so very badly. I felt like he was killing me one day at a time. We were tangled in this codependent mess of a relationship that was really more of a hostage situation. It was awful, gutting, and immensely sad.
No accidents, right?
He left and went on another spree that would last for about 6 months. I sent him no gifts, money or assistance for his 18th birthday. I do not think I was even speaking to him on that day. Do you know how hard it is to not wish your first born Happy Birthday on his 18th birthday? Well, I will tell you, it is fucking hard and heartbreaking.
I had resigned myself to a place where this was how it had to be. It was either me or him. And I had to pick me. I had to let him go find his bottom, and pray that he found some reason to live before he ended up dead. I woke every morning praying that he was ok and would see some sort of light. I went to bed every night in the same manner. For those that think that six months isn’t a long time, try doing six months hard labor detaching with love, and a bit of anger, every day for six months...it is fucking awful.
I am not sure what exactly happened for him, to him. And I am pretty sure I do not want to know. I am glad that I do not know all the details as I am sure they would break me further. But in late December last year, he hit a wall that was sufficient to bring about recovery. And while the last seven months haven’t been exactly easy for either of us, he has been able to put the shit down and get himself clean and sober (with a great deal of help from Cali House - I fucking love those guys!)
In some ways, I think he and I have been healing something epic for years. In other ways, I think we have just been making something bad, worse. But whatever we have been doing all this time, it feels different today.
Yesterday he took my car in for service in Oxnard for me. He was happy to do it and didn’t ask to be paid. When he got back, he said that he just wanted to sit on our couch and spend time in his home (this was a luxury since I hadn’t really allowed him to be here in over a year). Yesterday I could and was happy to say yes to allowing him just to sit on the couch and be while I worked in my office.
When I got done with work, we got something to eat together and then took the dog to the beach. And it was perhaps the most lovely time I have ever had with him. We walked the beach out in silence, each of us having our own experience and our own thoughts. And then quietly discussed life and its magnificence on our way back. We played with the dog. We watched the surf. We sat on my parents’ driveway together and rubbed the tar off our feet. Simple, silly life events that so many parents take for granted. But for me, it was pure fucking gold. All of it, the whole amazingly unexpected day.
To be at peace and have him near me is something I have craved, wished for, pined for, hoped for and had those cravings, wishes, pinings and hopes dashed apart more times than I am capable of counting. So to have this unexpected day, this amazing time with this young man, who will in a couple of weeks turn 19 was nothing less than miraculous. The fact we have plans to spend his 19th birthday together, also a miracle. It is the first time since he was 14 that he won’t be locked up somewhere on his birthday day...allow THAT to sink in for a moment!
As I laid down last night to go to sleep, I reviewed my day. And I realized that days like yesterday are exactly what healing looks like...and feel like. And it was fucking amazing. And I was and continue to be grateful. For him. To him. That healing can happen and does sometimes. I feel blessed and favored after feeling abused, spited and put upon for a very long time. To be able to spend a late August afternoon on the beach with my son was a gift of the highest order because by all accounts neither of us should really still be here. Both of us having our death defying bouts with addiction, mental health issues and the like. Neither of us ever really being able to be told anything, by anyone. Each of us always thinking we know better.
So to walk in the sunny afternoon warmth, watching the dog run here and there. Talking, and then also being content to just be in each other’s presence was a gift like no other I have ever received. To see this child grow into a man, to see him fuck his life up on every single level, and then to turn it around. Those are the moments we live for. I would have never known the bliss I felt yesterday if I hadn’t also been in the depths of hell with that kid. I think I get it. The hard things in life come to assist us is relishing in the every day, the commonplace activities of daily living that we all take for granted most of the time. But once you have been pummeled and barraged and hurled through relational hell with a person, every small, silly thing takes on new meaning, joy and purpose in your life.
My son helped me get into the moments of my life by forcing me to live through some pretty fucking awful ones. And I can never know what awaits us next, but I know for absolute certain, that days like yesterday are exactly what healing looks like...and I am profoundly grateful and humbled by this particular lesson.
Again...still.
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