Music: "Concerto for Flute", Vivaldi. Very soothing. I remember this piece from an old recording my father had, that I played when I was a child. My father loved classical music.
Garden: Outside same. Inside, the watercress that I didn't get transplanted yet, but kept in a bucket of water, grew 6 inches in two days! That's one prolific plant:)
Step 1:
" We admitted that we were powerless against ______(alcohol) - that out lives had become unmanageable"
It surprised me that I did not write anything about my son all weekend. Anything directly, that is. Directly, in the sense, that I wrote about him and what he is going through right now. Or what I am going through in regards to him, other than the blog. I did think about him though. I thought about how every good experience I go through, I wish he were there to share it, so we could have some more good memories together. I want him to have more memories of me happy, and more memories of us happy together.
I am tired and I so I want to be concentrated in what I write at this time. I will not write as much as I have the last several days. I had a scare driving home this afternoon. As I passed through the largest town in my county, I was driving down main st. and I thought I saw my son walking down the sidewalk. This is not the town he is staying in though. This is a big town in the area that he knows people in, and might go to spend some time in though. He doesn't have a car, so he would have to hitch hike there.
As I drove past this young man, I saw that he was about my sons height, had the same color hair, and a beard like my son has had at times. I have not seen my son since early March, so he may have regrown his beard since then. When he has, he has tended to look rather wild, like a wild mountain man. This young man had a sort of wild, unkempt look. He had on a dark jacket, that I did not recognize, almost a fatigue jacket and a baggy pair of jeans as my son sometimes wears. My heart started to race. The young man did not look in good shape. He looked sort of rumpled, dirty and sad. This I thought I saw all in a flash, as I drove past at 25 ml. per hour.
As soon as I drove past him I decided to turn around and see if it was him. I was concerned by the way this young man looked, and I was concerned that if it was him, he was 25 miles from where he had been staying, and it was getting to be late in afternoon. Some part of me had to know if it was him, even if I did not stop, even if I did not let him know that I saw him. I had to know if it was him or not. I looked ahead and realized I'd have to go up the road a ways to turn around. I was suddenly afraid I might lose sight of him, and not know if it was him, but I had no choice now. I had to go look.
I went up ahead and finally got the car turned around, then started heading back in the right direction, toward who I thought was my son. As I did this I thought about whether I should let him know I saw him after all. I thought about how he might feel, or if he would ignore me. I thought about if he were in a very depressed state, and what I would do if he were. My imagination started to run though all these scenarios; what he might be like, what I would do, depending on how he was and if I could handle it emotionally. I felt on a mission now.
As I kept driving back in the right direction I did not see him. I thought maybe he had stepped into a restaurant, or crossed the street to the library. I was now concerned at how disappointed I would feel if he had and I had missed my chance to know it was him. I realized I really wanted to know if it was him now, and I was hoping that we might be able to talk. I was hoping that it would be much more than just me spotting him, actually. I was hoping that he would be glad to see me, and that this 5 month separation could begin to be bridged.
I realized all of this as I was driving down the street. I realized that my desire, my fear, my worry and my possible disappointment were starting to grown unmanageable. In the span of a few short minutes from not even thinking about him at all, I was now having waking fantasies of a reunion and reconciliation. I realized all this had been a festering deposit of fear and emotion that had been simmering under the surface for quite some time. Every time I drove down the road near where I lived, or where I knew he was staying, it was my secret wish that I would see him and that we could speak.
This need for a parent to know their son or daughter is OK is normal, to a point, but where it gets unmanageable is when the son or daughter is going through a crisis or challenge and it causes the parent to worry incessantly. The constant worry is one of the most un-serene states of mind a human being can experience. There is nothing more terror-inducing than the fear and worry a parent can have for a sick or vulnerable child. Even though everyone says that worry does not help, will not change anything, it seems that is preferable sometimes to feeling as if you have nothing to do at all. This is very contradictory and therefore mentally destabilizing.
As I drove down the street I saw the head of the young man I had spotted bobbing down the street up ahead. I recognized the coat and began to breathe a little easier that, at least, I hadn't lost him completely. Suddenly, the light up ahead changed and I knew I would have to stop for it. My worry suddenly increased five-fold again. "So close", I thought. "Here we go again", I also thought. I thought "Higher power", which I am not convinced is real at this point, but for the sake of argument let's use the term. I thought, "what kind of cruel trick are you playing on me? Is this a test? Why are you testing me like this?"
What would be the test in this? What could higher power be trying to show me, with this sequence of events? The siting, the delay in turning around and driving back, the red light? I thought, "you get to see your own mind, your own emotion tied up in him, in this moment". "But, what am I supposed to learn from this? How can I help myself, help him, by understanding myself right now" I thought, " "You still don't trust him. You still don't trust his higher power. You still think you need to be in control on some level. You still think that without you, not much good could be happening to him", I also thought.
These thoughts were painful to realize, painful to hear. I still kept thinking of him as broken, vulnerable and that he was only bound to be in-trouble and unhappy without me helping him in some way. Why could I not think that he could help himself, or that he may have resources of his own, other people in the world that could care for him and help to help himself? Was I afraid of being replaced? Did I believe that I was the best for him right now? Was it possible to believe that there were other forces out in the world besides those that cause pain for him? For me?
These are questions I am still thinking about tonight. I am not done with this yet, but I wanted to acknowledge that I had become aware of them. I also wanted to acknowledge that I was aware of how much pain they were causing me. Or that I was causing myself. Causing myself this pain because it was not based on fact, on actual observable fact. They were the fantasy and speculation that my mind indulged in as I attempted to find out if the young man I saw was, in fact, my son. And just in-case you are still interested. He wasn't. The light turned green, I drove past, saw that it wasn't and realized I had spent the last ten minutes in a mental state of pain and worry. All because of my lack of trust and a very active imagination. A deadly combination!
That's all for now.
Thanks for listening!
Keep coming back:)
What I have to look forward to: sleep in my own bed, after two days on an air mattress with a sleeping bag and on a cold, rainy porch.
Challenge tonight: To not obsess about where my son is, and if he is OK and safe. It's still hard.
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