Sweet n Low

I used to think that my life was divided into segments.

Segment one=youth
Segment two=college
Segment three=first marriage
Segment four=everything else afterward.

I have changed the segments.
Segment one=youth
Segment two=college
Segment three=first marriage
Segment four=Mary Tyler Moore days
Segment five=Married with Kids
Segment six=summer camp drama

The path between Segment Three and Segment four was incredible.  I will state for the record that my first husband and I both acted poorly.  Repeatedly.  But, we hung on.  Over and over and over again.  Tears, fights, crap.  It was not good.

Until one morning.

The Sweet and Low morning.

My first husband would take TWO sweet and low  packets every morning, rip them open, and only dump HALF of EACH packet into his coffee.  Now, I know that I am not good in math, but, isn't that one ENTIRE packet?.  No, there we two halves, ripped open, with four pieces of pink paper on the counter with the artificial sweetener residue on the counter EVERY MORNING for me to pick up. 

This was our toothpaste argument.  But, it was more than that,  Every morning there was a mess presented to me, to clean up.  Every morning.  And I would say, "hey, why don't you try one packet, and dump the whole thing in?" or hey, how about throwing this in the trash afterward?" or "hey, you made this mess, clean it up?"

One morning, after a bad night with my ex-husband, you know, "i will change, I want this to work, I promise I will do better, blah blah, blah, blah blah blah, I entered the kitchen.

And there they were.  The two pale pink packets, ripped in half, left over artificial sweetener on the counter and I knew.  What my mother couldn't tell me, what the shrink couldn't tell me, what my brain could not absorb, was there,  On the counter all dressed in pale pink.

I knew then my marriage was over.  Nothing was going to change.  Nothing.  No more tears, no more falling apart.  Just composure and moving forward for myself.

Last week, chance and business put me in Beaufort during visiting hours at summer camp.  I decided to to go the Used Book store and buy some books.  I did.  Look, if your continuing education means summer camp, you might as well learn.  And, honestly, it was important to Walker.  And when I dropped them off, the man said," Mrs. G, you are on the visitation list."

For those of you who haven't had the privilege of ever visiting summer camp...you have to be on the list.  If you are not on the list, you do not go up.

Hmmm. I was on the list.  I looked at him and said, "not sure that glass is strong enough."  He says, "look, this is none of my business, none at all.  He put your name on the list.  When I took him his books last week and he saw they were from you, his eyes welled.  Go up."

I shook my head and went outside.  I didn't know what to do.  I really didn't think I was ready.  And then it hit me, God put me here.  Go up.

I went.  He came out.  Okay, once again, nothing prepares you to see your child like this.  Nothing.

He sat down and said, "I shouldn't be here." 

He  might as well have been dressed in pale pink with artificial sweetener coming out of his mouth.

I very calmly and sternly asked, "And what behavior DID YOU HAVE TO PREVENT THIS?"

And when my "button" FINALLY looked at me and said, "I am an alcoholic and a pretty big drug abuser" I just looked at him and said, "then YOU will have to get the help, the tools and the care you need.  This is your deal.  You need to clean it up."

I was poised, calm and filled with composure.

And shortly after I finally heard the confession I needed to hear, I got up and said, "i have to go see a client." 

There it was, the "sweet and low" moment.  It finally happened for me.  I cannot help him anymore.  He has to do it himself.  I cannot clean it up, I cannot fix it, I cannot do it anymore.  My addiction to cleaning up after my son was over.  At that moment.  And I felt better.

And now the acceptance process starts.

And this week, when visitation hours rolled around, I didn't go.  I didn't drop off any books either.  I wrote a letter instead. 

What really bothered me the most was I finally heard what we have been telling my son all along and he finally got it.  That should have been a "sweet" moment.  Instead, it was a very "low" one.

I