I'm just sooo mad.

I'm just so mad.  Seriously, mad.

I want to scream, I want to break something and I want to be alone.  I am just so mad.

But, I am a mom, if I break something, I will have to pick it up, I cannot let my kids see me like this so I am keeping my emotions grounded.  I am breathing love in and anger out.

And then, I get a call from the school.  You know how you feel when your called id lights up and you see the "school".  You know that your child has either puked or gone to the principals office.  One is less messy but both make you feel the same.


Walker.  He was sent to the Principal's office.

When I was in school, you learned to spell PRINCIPAL that way because the PRINCIPAL is your "PAL".

I always thought that was cheesy.  Really cheesy. 

Let me just say, that if I ever ran for President, the first two people who would get a raise would be teachers and nursing home employees.

The principal tells me that my son was acting out and she took some time and chatted with him.

She says, "what is it really?  really?  Is it because your brother is at summer camp again?"

"Yes and I am just so mad."    Well put Walker.

The last words that Walker heard from his brother was "I will come over and cut the grass, you can be my wingman."


He is mad and I can relate.  He asked me the other day, "do you even care about him anymore?"  Yes, I care. 

I would care more if I didn't have this huge chip on my shoulder named "mad".  I would be less mad if I could let go of the disappointment and shock.

Mad is one of the stages when you grieve.  It sucks.

Being mad when your heart is broken because you love someone is the worst.  The absolute worst.  I would rather have a sore throat, stomach flu, shingles and a pap smear all at the same time instead of this broken heart anguish.

And I am 51.



Imagine being 10?.  You still think that there is the possibility of Santa and the magic but the kid you admire the most may not be returning until you are 15.  Five years.  Remember how long five years seemed when you were 10?

And so you are left with the one emotion that you know, "so mad."

When I called my husband to relay another PRINCIPAL story, I lost my composure.  I am so mad, that somebody, anybody made my son, so mad.  And then I remember the source, and I so very mad.

When I got back to my desk after my call with Franklin I took a moment.  I let peace enter my heart.  And I took a few minutes to think and reflect.

And I hit me, that after all these years, the PRINCIPAL really is my PAL.

a letter from a sister

Last night, during the homework, dinnertime hustle and bustle, Addie was busy at work on my laptop.

It wasn't until later that I had a chance to see what she was doing.  No wonder I have shingles.

Dear Button,

I really miss you alot and I have been praying for you.  I'm really mad because you knew you were going to get in trouble and you need to stop hanging out with those friends.  Who knows when you will get out of jail.  You need to stop behaving like this.  I love you with all my heart.  I think about you all day long.  What I'm mad about is why did you do this?  I was worried.  You could have got drunk and people dared you to jump of the pier and die.  I am really sad and I miss you so much.  Everyone says oh your brother is in jail.  You were on the news so everyone knows.  I am so embarrassed.  Why did you do this.  I'm sitting here in the living room crying to death.  We love you so much.  I know you have what you have but you do what you do.  I'm so sad.  We all love you.  We care about you.

Love,
Addie I really love you.

This is when I come undone.  And this is when I want to grab EVERY SINGLE PERSON who says "it is only pot" or "it is just a few beers" or 'well I drank when I was their age."

This is the letter of what substance abuse does to a family.  Nobody gets up in the morning and says, "hey, you know, today is the perfect day to become a substance abuser."  It happens over time.  And it happens when others enable others to take part in this and never have the courage to say, "hey dude, you need to stop."  Or, how about, "dude, this is ruining your life, STOP."

This is also the letter they I would love to send to the young folks who thought it was just a joke and that  "it is not big deal' and "I will have a blunt waiting for you when you get out." 

This is also the written from the heart of a little girl who has learned more than she should have at age nine.

  And this is also the letter from a young girl who has my permission to clobber someone over the head when they ask her to smoke a joint.

If you know someone with a substance abuse problem or suspect they are at a crossroads, please share this letter with them.  It is the only reason I have published something so personal.  It may save another person, another family or another sweet sister.

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Let it Be

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Let it Be: "Speaking words of wisdom,  Let it be".  So much of the wilderness program's message is this exact line, Let it Be.  Let go of control an...

Let it Be

"Speaking words of wisdom,  Let it be". 

So much of the wilderness program's message is
this exact line, Let it Be.  Let go of control and Let it be.  Such a simple phrase that can be so very difficult. 

For the last ten days, this is exactly  what Franklin and I have trying to wrap our arms around.

In another one of the moments where you realize that God put you where you were suppposed to be, an amazing thing happened last night.

I came home from work and really just wanted to take of my clothes, wash my face, take off my bra and lay on the couch in  my nightgown watching "Say Yes to the Dress."  Instead, I was lured out of the house and up the street for "Wine Night and Kind of a Going away party for a neighbor Night."  I told Addie, "we will just stay for a little while."

Famous last words.

As usual, a group of women discussed so much stuff.

And then, the husband came home with two of his sons.  Usually a sign of dread but not last night.

One of the sons has Territs Syndrome.  He saw the women, started to twitch, and retired to his room.  Pretty typical behaviour from a high school freshman if you ask me.  What happened next will stay with me forever.

From his room came the sound of organic guitar playing...awesome guitar playing.  And it was him.  And he just sat in that room and played.

Until a group of moms called him out for some Happy Hour Entertainment.

There he was .Tall and lanky, feet crossed in a way that Mary Poppins couldn't even handle, twitching away.

And then he started to sing and play, "Mother Mary comes to me,
Speaking words of wisdom, Let it Be."

It was amazing. His playing, his singing, his passion and the twitches disappeared.  Honestly, I would have been in a convulsion if I had to stand there and sing and play, but in his heart, he was at peace as he played in front of us.

I was so happy for him and so excited to see a young mans peaceful, passionate heart express his spirit.  Never, not one time, in all the times that I have heard this song, did it touch me this way or did I understand its meaning.  Never.

And through his peace, I found a littlle bit of my own.

 



In good times and in bad

I met my husband through a blind date.  Some days we love that person who fixed us up, some days we hate her.

Neither one of us wanted to get married again.  We were both "freshly" divorced and so "not in the mood."  Well, the rest is history.

We had a brief courtship.  We decided to elope on New Year's Eve and get married under the gazebo in Charleston, South Carolina.  No frills, no fuss, just a New Year's Eve wedding.

Weeks before the "elopement", we got a call that the "button" had been removed from his home and Georgia and was placed in a home for adoption outside the family.

We moved like lightning.  Franklin told me, "Help me get this kid, and I will make you a great husband." 

On December 16, Santa came early and gave us the "button."

Franklin has two grown daughters from his previous life.  He didn't have to "step up".  There was no hesitating.  He stepped up quickly.

Months later, we got married on the beach on the Fourth of July.  We joke that we gave up our independence on Independence Day.  Truth is, the holiday was Friday and it made for a long weekend.  We did the "wedding thing", something neither of us wanted to do.  We did it for the "button".  Even in marriage, the "button" was the focus.

Franklin is the modern day "Archie Bunker."  He is old fashioned.  He would love a wife who stayed at home and cooked and cleaned wearing pearls and high heels with a roast in the oven.  He told me straight up, "you need to cook, take care of my kids and something else we won't discuss." 

His kids and his family have always come first.  And sometimes that meant that I showed up while he worked.  Or, it meant that he stood against the wall with the video camera while I was on the sidelines screaming.  But he was there. 

And when he wasn't "there"  "there", he was "there". 

When the opportunity came to go the wilderness with the "button", he couldn't wait.  He was there.  He embraced the messages, the lessons and the once in a lifetime experience with his son.  And, he wanted to be a peace with his son.  He gave it his all. 

Franklin said to me one day, "since I married you, I use under eye cream, eat feta cheese and go to therapy,  What the hell?" 

He has tossed his Archie Bunker armor for the benefit of his kids. 

I feel like after over 100 posts, he is "post worthy".

And he is sad.  I think that in our culture, it has been expected that moms be soft and dads be tough.  I really think that I am the tough one and Franklin is the soft one.  He just walks around with his butt cheeks so tense he could open up a coke bottle with them.

The biggest fights we have had in our married life have been over the "button" with the exception of a premenstrual fight over yard mulch.  The biggest fights because it really was a big deal and we were obviously both filled with passion over this situation.

But we were together. United.  And together.  If you are going to stay up all night, not sleeping, a nervous wreck, it is easier to do it with your spouse.  We are in it together.

So many times, because I am the "loud Yankee" with the crazy laugh and wild demeanor, Franklin is the silent guy in the background.  Lord knows, he doesn't have much of a chance to talk in our house. 

When you stand there and say your vows, you have no idea what "better or worse" or "good times and in bad" can mean.  Seriously.  You have no idea.  Our line is "it won't always be this way."  Fourteen years later, we are still saying this.  Funny thing is that despite all the "worse" it has made us better.  Stronger.  If we can get through this, I feel like we can get through anything. 

And at the end of the day, when you marry someone, you have no idea what the hell is going to happen.  You just need to make sure that you hold on to one another untill the ride comes to a complete stop, through "good times and in bad."

The Good news is we know where he is...the bad news....

The good news is, we finally know where the "button" is.  The bad news is...he is in summer camp.  Again.

Nobody got hurt and nobody died.  We are not waiting for a kidney.  Everyone lived.

Here is the bottom line, my son has a pretty serious substance abuse problem.  We have known this.

If my kids were hungry, I would steal for them to feed them if needed.  If they were cold, I would find them warmth.  They are my babies.  They love me.  It is my job to take care of them.

When you have a substance abuse problem, that is the most important relationship that you have.  Your substance of choice gives you euphoria and makes you feel good.  It is your happy, best friend.  It doesn't talk bag or nag, it makes you feel good and feel good often.  It is your baby.  You steal for it, whatever. 

If you don't have a problem, you don't get.  You are left dumbfounded.  You question it.  "Nice kid, clean cut, happy, respectul...."

I am fine.  Franklin is fine.  Yes, I told the kids.  Good news is I have a new job.  Bad news is, it is at a television station and it made the news.  I had to tell the kids.  The only question they really had, "are you going to take him books?" 

The answer, "No."

We are fine.  Disappointed beyond measure.  Confused beyond measure.  Sad.  Sad is really the best word.

But, we are fine.  WE have hearts at peace. 

The good news is, I learned about having a heart and peace.  We are a family at peace and no longer at war.
I have faith that this is in God's hands and He has a plan for the "button" that we don't know about yet.
I have a husband and we are united and we know that inside our child there are seeds of greatness.  Our son just has a serious drought problem now.  And I have wiser children at home who have been blessed with the lesson of addiction and commitment.

The bad news is, my little bag of HOPE can be carried by a hummingbird at this point.  It is little.  I know, there are Cinderella stories but they are called Cinderella stories because they do not happen very often. 

And the worst news of all, my son, that I was so proud of, will be a part of the corrections program for a long time.  He will not be the person I loved.  He will miss holidays and milestones.  He will not be in our home or in our lives for a long time.  And, I seriously doubt if our relationship will ever recover.

Before he entered the wilderness program, I had to fill out a 92 page questionnaire.  One of the questions was, "what is the worst fear you have as a parent for your child?"  It is that I will run into my child at the Food Lion in years to come and we will look at one another will hollow eyes and souls and not know what to say to one another.  Hello just doesn't seem like the appropriate word.

All of this was a symptom of bad choices, bad choice in friends and activities and extra curricular susbstances.

The good news is this, when Franklin and I are in the assisted living or old folks home, which is rapidly approaching, nobody is going to have the stories to tell that we will.  We will entertain our roomies and they will forget the stories so we will never run out of material.

Hug your kids tonight, you know where they are and hug your spouse for the same reason.  Feel your blessings large and small.  Share with your family all the good news of the day. 

Dear Son, an open letter

Dear Son,

It has been almost 30 days since you left.  Except for an hour of that month, I have had no idea where you have been.  Or who you have been with, what you have been doing, why you were doing it, if you have eaten, bathed, worked, found a new job, died or thought of us.

While I don't know much about your life for the past thirty days, I am sure that you have  spent time with drugs and alcohol.  Thus, I am sure that your decision making abilities have been flawed.

My heart is in pain and my brain is angry.

Very, very, very angry and confused.

You left our house after a dinner.  You showered, you thanked me, you hugged me and your siblings, you told me  you would be back to mow the grass and you were "my son."  You were awesome.

And now your father and I lay awake at night listening for sounds that may be you.  Crazy.

And sometimes we are greeted at the door by people who need to speak with you.

While you do not carry my genes, you have been nurtured by a "rule follower" for years.  You have been taught right from wrong.  You have been taught to be a gentlemen to females, make your bed, speak while looking in the eye, respect to elders and if it doesn't belong to you, don't touch it.  You have been taught.

We have also been honest with you.  "You become who you hang with."  Every parent, that is worth something, has told their child this, for centuries.  It is true.

We have also told you that despite all of your talents and your greatness, drugs and alcohol are not your friends and do not make your life better.  Ever.

And so it goes again.  The confusion in my heart and my brain leaves such a vile taste in my mouth.  Just about everything that I have done in my life since I have become your mother, was to help you have a happy, productive life.  I have given and cared with all that I am.

I am not confident that "we" will have a happy ending.  I am certain that you will be picking up trash on the highway for awhile.  I am also sure that someday I might run into you at the Food Lion and I don't know what to say to my own son.

I may not have carried you for nine months, but I have loved immensely since the day I met you.

I am afraid that your demons have become your family.  And will be for awhile.

I told your sister last night that I do not know what will happen but I am certain that you will be "away" for awhile and it is her choice to have a relationship with you, or not, it is her choice. It is exhausting for your siblings to  to be your sibling.  Are you coming or going, honest or under the influence, simply exhausting.  And while they are young, they are now wiser.  They get what substance abuse does.

I wish i could pull the scalps off of you and your friends and scream into them, scream the pain you have caused my heart and my family and scream something, anything, to make you get it and get the help that you need and I would help provide.

And I am sad for you.  Sad, that in a tough world, you have made it tougher for yourself.  You have missed out on so much, and more to come all for a high or a night of partying with a bunch of people who will still be partying in years to come.

But the power or choice is grand.  The courage to ask for help and accept it proves you are a man.

I love the son I had.  I hope he comes back.