The Road I Wish Hadn't Been Taken

   I took my 22 year old son to rehab the other day. I never thought I'd be saying those words. How did we get here? Did I discipline too much, too harshly? Did I not discipline enough? Less junk food, more vegetables? Should I have made him study harder, study less? Been more controlling, been less controlling?
   I was calm. I'm not the type of parent to go off on a ranting rampage on my child. So when he came to me and said, "I need to go into rehab. I've been buying IV Meth online and using it", I was calm. Inside, my heart was shattering for him, but I was calm.
   Coming from a family background where alcohol abuse was typical, I always knew somewhere in me that it would rear its demonic head in someone I loved. I knew he had a problem with binging on alcohol. He was unable to have one drink, but had to finish a bottle. I knew I needed to hide things like OTC sleep aids, or he would work himself up to taking three or four a night, and then ask me why they weren't working well. But meth? Pills? Bought online of all places, where God knows what you're being sold, and you certainly have no proof of where you got it if you get ill from it. It's not like you can leave a Yelp review, "This dealers meth put me in the hospital. Don't buy from him." Or heck, maybe you can. I don't know. I'm out of my depth here. I guess I'm naive when it comes to modern day dealing. Back when I was a kid, growing up in Chicago, you knew where to avoid, because it was "a drug neighborhood".
   Once upon a time, this was the teen who had his own prayer closet, and could be heard at night praying to God about anything and everything. His bible was always with him, and he was constantly studying it. When did he decide that drugs could help his pain more than God? When did he decide that drugs could help his pain more than talking to ME?
   Pray without ceasing. The Bible tells us to do that. Not just in bad times, but all the time. I talk to God a lot, good times as well as bad, but right now, all I seem to be able to get out at night, lying in bed, is "please don't take him from me. Please help him find his way back to You. Please don't take him."
The first day we were supposed to go to rehab, we went to Starbucks to get coffee. While we were waiting, I saw him kind of spin around with a glazed look, then fall to the ground, banging his head hard on the ground before immediately going into a Grand Mal seizure. There is NO way to explain what it is like to hold your childs head in your arms to keep him from head butting the floor, as his body seizes, he is foaming from the mouth, and turning blue because he is not able to breathe well. The doctor said it was due to withdrawal and may happen again. At least 3 or 4 times a day, I see it again, and the prayers start once more.
   Needless to say, rehab didn't happen that day. We were able to get him in the next day, and it was a world that I had never expected to see. The incoming residents chatting with the others about the many times they had been in rehab, and what drugs they used, and how many times they had been jailed. One person going in talked about how sad and ashamed he was, how he had just gotten out of jail the night before, and had decided to try rehab again, and turning in both crack and heroine to the staff, ONE day after getting out of jail. When I left, I gave him a hug and told him I believed in him, that this was going to be the time he succeeded. I pray I'm right.
   How do you end up on this road? What makes someone be so desperate to kill some pain that they are willing to risk death to do it? I hurt for my son. I hurt for the people in rehab with him. I hurt for everyone who is homeless and using, the children of the addicts who live in a world that must be terrifying, the fear the addicts themselves must feel most of the time, whether they are high or not. I hurt for those living with the pain, and those who died because of trying to numb it the wrong way. The mother in me wants to take them all in, give them milk and cookies and a hug. But I'm not dumb. I know that's not enough.
   I'm drowning here. So is my boy. I want to help him, but I know that ultimately, it's up to him. Please God, don't take him from me. Please help him find his way back to You."

I'm That Woman

   I'm that woman. I walk into the church lobby every Sunday with my family. I see you; you look so stylish and pretty in your Sunday clothes with matching earrings. I tend to focus on my child and pretend I am in a hurry, because if I walk over and say hello, you may notice that my shoes were from the Walmart clearance bin and my clothes are as old as my youngest child. Worse than that though, I may see in your eyes that you wish I hadn't come over, that I am bothering you. I might see you glancing at someone else trying to find a polite reason to walk away.

    I'm that woman. I see your posts on facebook or instagram about your family. I see your photos of your vacations, and your family reunions. I like them, and I coo over your kids, because I truly like what you've posted. Inside though, I feel a bit empty because I don't have those things to share. We can't afford vacations and what little of my family is left other than my kids personifies dysfunctional and there will never be a reunion from which to post memories.

    I'm that woman. I see you in the grocery store, and I inwardly cringe over the ice cream and junk food in my cart. I just know inside of me that you are thinking “that's why she's fat” when in reality, I know that would be the last thing on MY mind, so why do I assume people think the worst of ME?

    I'm that woman. I smile and do my best to make small talk, even though half the time, I stutter because I'm such an introvert and small talk is almost painful for me. I cringe inside because I am terrified that I sound as stupid and socially awkward as I feel. I know I say the wrong things and sometimes pipe up when I shouldn't.

   I'm that woman. I am great at interjecting something funny into a conversation. I get told all the time that my facebook posts make you laugh. I wish I had the courage to tell you that I joke because I'm so scared to really open up. If you make people laugh, that's all they learn to expect from you. It's easier and less frightening than sharing my feelings. Those might make you laugh AT me, and the child in me can't take that risk.

   I'm that woman. The one who fed her children cereal for dinner last night and a night or two last week, because I'm so behind on my life, so frazzled, that it was quicker and easier. Making dinner took too much time. Inside of me, I just KNOW that you'd never do that, that your children get healthy meals every night, eaten around a table, grace said first, and then you all talk throughout the meal. My kids though, ate their cereal in front of the TV because I was too tired to even eat.

   I'm that woman. The one who has the grand plans to get up early to work out and have quiet time with God, but instead oversleeps and is in a rush every morning. God will understand if I put Him aside for now, right?

   I'm that woman. I desperately want to be included. I hear you talk about your girls nights out, your weekends away with just other women, and I so wish I had friends like that. I want to have someone call me and say, “hey; want to get a cup of coffee?” even though that whole small talk idea still terrifies me. I want a circle, a 'tribe”, friends who will call or text just to say hi, or ask how I'm doing, who will care about me even if I DO stumble through conversations and say the wrong things sometimes. But I have no idea how to make that happen. I've never had it, and it almost seems too late now. Plus, I always wonder...am I even worth the time?

   I'm that woman. The one who loves my family with a passion normally reserved for good chocolate or Shemar Moore, and has a truly happy family life, even with the problems that we all have. But I'm lonely. I envision that someday, when I die, there will be no one at my funeral other than my husband and kids. That I will leave no personal legacy, no people who miss me.

   I'm that woman. I volunteer a lot, so you know my face, but my name? Not so much. You know me more as the woman in the nursery and the mother of my child. You smile when I pass in church, you say hello, but you're just not quite sure who I am. Part of me hates that, part of me is relieved.

   I'm that woman. I'm happy, I'm sad, I'm frightened, I'm insecure, I'm needy at times, and aloof at others. I cry in the shower where no one can see me, and even then I feel foolish because I know how blessed I am in my life. I'm that woman. I'm you.

If I Could Turn Back Time

He laid on top of my chest, all warm and soft and smelling like Johnsons baby shampoo.
I found myself kissing him on that spot all parents know and love; right there, yes, there, right where his neck joins his shoulder.
"Why do you like to kiss me there, momma?"
I told him that was the "momma spot", the spot where all mommas kissed their babies, starting when they were all little and squishable and smelled like growing things and powder and love.
"Where's the daddy spot?"
Daddies get behind the ears. That's the daddy spot.
"What about little kids and little girls? Where do they get to kiss mommas and daddys?"
We're still working on his strangely ingrained idea that boys are little kids and girls are some otherworldly creatures who simply fall under the heading of "little girls" but never 'kids"
They get...hmmm... they get chins and cheekbones.
"Here?"
As I get a thousand cinnamon roll scented kisses on my face
Nope. Right here on the bony part of the cheek and right on the denty part of my chin. Has to be there. I think it's the law
"Oh. Ok. I don't wanna break the law.Then you'd have to get me out of jail and I might get in time out"
Dozens more kisses, these all in the 'right" spots.
I need to get up and get my tea. And I need to pee.
"No, momma, I want to just lay here and cuddle forever."
Arms and legs lock around my torso in a death grip

But what about when we need to go pee?
"Then you'll get up and I'll get up"
But what about when we're hungry?
"Then you'll get up and I'll get up."
What about when we feel like mushrooms growing in the dark and we need sunshine?
"Then you'll get up and I'll get up."
You do notice that that's a lot of getting up and not a lot of forever cuddling, don't you?
"I know momma, but let's do forever right now, ok?"


Yes, my darling baby boy. Let's do forever right now. Don't grow up. Stay this cuddly boy who still curls up into me with legs drawn up and hanging on so tightly that I have to think about drawing a breath. Stay this little boy who thinks I know everything and who thinks his daddy and brothers are the strongest, most amazing people on Earth. Stay this child who still smells of powder, growing things and love.

But I know you won't.

So for now, we'll just cuddle forever right now.

Mortality and Moving Forward

   I've always been one of those people who doesn't sleep well. I toss, I turn, I plan out the next fifty years of my life and I think about the past. I think far too much about the past even though my present is happy. When I am laying there in the dark, a parade of faces passes through my mind and I go through so many assorted memories. I'm not young anymore, but neither am I old and there are so many in my past. Some I loved for a little while, some I hated, some hurt me, some I hurt. But all of them shaped me into who I am, for good or for bad. Where are they? Are they happy? Did their lives become something to be proud of, something that leaves a legacy the part of the world they inhabited will remember fondly.

   My sister has been gone almost 2 years. Rarely a day passes that she doesn't cross my mind, even though I know I'll see her again.  My memories of her are so varied, so ever present.

   Where are Carol S and Ed R? I spent many drunken nights laughing with them when my first husband was in basic training. I remember one Summer day at an outdoor concert with them, drinking beer and listening to blaring country music. I also remember hating Carol for a time because she slept with said ex. 

   Where is Ricky W? He made my life hell for a time and left my face, body and soul bruised. During those late night thoughts, I always imagine that he finally ended up in jail as someones "good friend". A kind thought from me? No. I forgave him long ago, but I'm still human. Same for the men who assaulted me in Cleveland Ohio many years ago. 

   Speaking of Ohio, where did Ralph end up? He once gave me a card into which he had written the entire lyrics to "La La means I Love You". He went to Case Western Reserve University and I remember how flattered I was because he was so damned handsome. But alas, I was living with an older drug dealer (I've had an...interesting... past) named Dave so I had to ignore handsome Ralph... and I have no idea where Dave ended up either. He was 11 years older than I and the personification of the word Hippie. To me, in my naiveté, he was so cool and oh so slightly dangerous. My memories with him lie in working on a street crew in Cleveland to help pay the bills (I guess small time dealing didn't pay well), him stealing my clothes one night when I was drunkenly passed out in a car and how one night when I was mad at him, I took 5 of his street strength 357 magnum speed pills and nearly killed myself. Nineteen is a pretty dumb age. Where did his friend Scott end up? Short, cute Korean guy who tried everything he could think of to get me to sleep with him. Did he ever go to school like he wanted to? Are either of them alive?

   Jerry... Jerry killed himself. The memories of Vietnam were too much for him and he blew his brains out in a hotel room. I still think of him often. Who would he have become?

   Gary Robert H. God, I loved that boy. He touched me and I felt electricity. He smiled and I went weak in the knees. Where is he now? Is he happy? Do I ever cross his mind?

   Ellis K? My first love and the first man who taught me what it's like to be used. Does he look back too and regret the things he did?

   Faces. Names. Memories. They swirl through my brain like a blizzard gone wild. Is this what aging is? Is this why you see the elderly with a vacant smile on their lips and a tear in their eye? It's so easy to get lost in the memories, so easy to get lost in the "what if's". What if I had been nicer to that person, what if I had not gone through that empty parking lot that night in Cleveland, what if I had not had that drink, what if I had said yes to that question and no to that one... what if.

   But... I'm only 49. We're not supposed to be losing people we know yet, are we? Like I said to a friend tonight, isn't 50 the new 30? Aren't we supposed to have decades left to laugh, to love, to hurt, to cry, to...well...make more memories? Aren't we still those kids with scraped knees, those teens wearing bell bottoms and listening to REO Speedwagon? Those 20 somethings having babies and watching the world change around us? Those working class folks in their 30's wondering when our kids became young teens? Those men and women turning 40, dying the gray hairs and looking for wrinkles? When did our babies have babies and turn us into the grandparents?

   Some of the faces are still here. Older, maybe fatter lol, definitely showing traces of age. But also showing wisdom in their eyes that wasn't there at 15, 19, 22. Definitely showing some weariness, signs that life hasn't always been easy. Also showing  grace,  laughter and more life than I think many of them expected they would have at this age when we were young.

My brother is still out there, still cracking bad jokes, making me pee my pants laughing with some of his texts. That whole pee the pants things.... yeah, blame aging there too :-p

My dearest friend Craig.  Still out there. A little gray, a little wrinkled, but still plugging along and still very much a part of my life.

Cheryl... still out there. She drives me nuts with her penchant for airing family laundry , but you know what? She drove me nuts with that when we were kids too, she just didn't have the internet to do it on lol. She also has stayed one of the most loyal friends I have.

Tonight, when I go to bed, the memories will still be there. I'll especially think of Patti, the reason for this post. Barely 50 and died of an apparent heart attack a couple of days ago. She was anything but kind to me when we were kids. But we grew up. We became friends. She becomes a memory now... a what if... part of the nightly swirl. So I'll lay there. I'll toss and turn. I'll think. And I'll remember. Faces, names, memories. I'll remember. Always... I promise to remember. To keep them all alive.

I Watched My Heart Crumble Last Night

Last night, Jordan came to the realization, at the age of fifteen, that he is "different". There is little more heartbreaking for the parent of a special needs child than to see his face as he says, "Mom, I just want to DIE. I don't fit in anywhere and I'm different from everybody else.I want to be dead."

I wish he had stayed oblivious to his differences. I wish he knew that he DOES fit in; with us, his family and those others who care about him. But I know that at fifteen, for even the "normal" teen, that isn't enough, so how can that be enough for a child who struggles for every that we take for granted? Things like counting out change, buying a meal at McDonald's, walking into a crowded room, having a girlfriend.... hell, having a FRIEND, are things that he strives for on a daily basis. We however, think nothing of most of the above. We may periodically feel grateful for the abilities, gifts and friends, casual and otherwise, that we have, but we rarely contemplate what it must be like to not have them at all.

I have said before and know that I will probably have reason to say again, that every time some well meaning soul comes to me and gives me a pat on the back and tells me how hard it must be to raise a child like Jordan, how strong I must be, I will will continue to tell them that no matter how hard it is to raise a special needs child, how much harder must it be to BE one?

How must it hurt to finally have come to that point of knowing "Hey, I'm different. Not everyone has these problems, not everyone feels this way."?

How must it feel to know that the "cool girls", the "pretty girls", aka the so called "normal" girls will never give you the time of day, will never ask you out, will never be a part of your life in any way other than to smile politely or in some cases, as has happened to Jordan before, to play with your mind and act flirty just so that later they can go to their friends and laugh over how they messed around with the "retard"?

How must it feel to want to be so much... a scientist, an archaeologist , a computer programmer, even a cross country truck driver and know that chances are it won't happen because you can't even manage basic math that well, much less higher studies?

Last night, my son lashed out at me and at his stepfather. He did it because he knew of no other way to ease his own pain. I have no broken bones, no bruises. The only thing that broke last night was my heart.... and his.

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Health Care or 1984?

When you can no longer get a same day appointment with your childs pediatrician because his case load has increased 10x and appointments are booked three weeks in advance...

When that same doctor, who used to be so conscientious, now rushes through appointments because he has 45 people in his waiting room...

When you spend 17 hours in the ER waiting to get your screaming, in pain child seen for a simple ear infection because you couldn't get an appointment at that same pediatrician and everybody else had the same idea...

When that antibiotic they finally prescribe to that same child no longer costs 4 dollars at Wal Mart but is now 25 dollars...

When you watch your next door neighbor get evicted because they could no longer afford their rent because the premiums were too costly on the "free" government healthcare everyone has to pay for or get fined for not having...

When your 70 year old grandmother, who is still active, who has always worked and been a productive member of society is denied treatment for a recurring condition based on "quality of life standards" and age but your 30 year old unemployed living on welfare neighbor, an illegal immigrant, gets taken care of for the same thing...

When Euthanasia becomes a "viable option" because it saves money...

When your newborn, who could live many many happy years with medical care is denied it and allowed to die because of those same quality of life standards...

When abortion becomes an accepted form of birth control...

When the cost of everything from that coffee you're drinking to the electricity you made it with becomes more expensive as taxes are raised and then raised again to cover the price of this little bill...

When, in the coming years all of these things come to pass... tell me THEN that you like the new health care reform.

Saying that that can't happen in the good old US of A?? Go read up on socialized health care in Canada and Europe... the numbers and the statistics don't lie.

And beyond all of that, tell me... if they can push through a bill ignoring the Constitution in the process by making a "rule" saying it is legal, what next? What will they deem best for us.. for YOU... next? Where does the line get drawn before we say "enough!"?

Cheatin' Songs

I was happily listening to yahoo radio a while ago and a song came on that up until that moment I had liked. It's called Stay and the story in it is how the woman seeing a married man is begging him to stay when his wife calls. She talks about how she can love him better than his wife can. Ultimately she sings how she has realized that she deserves better than how he treats her and how next time he can "stay" with his wife because she herself has discovered some inner strength to let him go. The song leaves one with the idea that we are meant to admire her for this strength and applaud that she has let him leave.

When I heard the song this time, something struck me that never had before. When did this become ok? When did it become the norm that we are expected to sympathize with someone who willingly went into a relationship with someone they knew they had no right to be with?

I saw an interview about a year ago where the singer of the song admitted that the tears she shows in the video for the song were real because she had been in that situation so the song hit real emotions with her. The interviewer was completely sympathetic and talked only about how difficult that must have been.

Why was she not asked why she became involved with a married man in the first place? Why was she not asked how she thought this mans wife (and maybe children) felt knowing about her?

I understand that people cheat in relationships. Been there had that happen. In all honesty, as shamed as I am to admit it, though my ex and I hadn't lived together in many years, we were still legally married when Russell and I got together. So technically I too could be accused of cheating But I certainly expect no sympathy or kudos about that. I state it only in the name of honesty.

I don't know; maybe I am intolerant and utterly old fashioned. But I can't sympathize with many of the current ideas society says we should be upset about. Cheating is just one of them. I realize some people are in open relationships and while that's not for me, I don't put it in the same category as cheating because that is a choice they are making not something done TO them.

Is there a point to this note you may be asking? I have no idea. Maybe it's just me venting; maybe it is me shedding a written tear for what seems to me to be yet one more unraveled thread in the fabric of humanity. When we don't bat an eye at songs, movies, books, TV shows, what ever, that casually show cheating as the norm and seem to suggest we feel sympathy for the cheaters rather than the victims, I can't help but wonder how far society will go. What will we become inured to next?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zPG1n1B0Ydw

Friendships

Why is it then when you disagree with a friends thoughts, that another (usually non-mutual) friend has to jump in and say something like "Well; you can always "unfriend" so and so if you don't like what they said!"?? Has real friendship grown so rare and so damn shallow that all it takes is a disagreement to end the supposed friendship? Have we become so technologically "advanced" that we are willing to dispose of people and relationships by pressing a button and then never think to look back; never wonder if we were wrong; never think we should have seen past the disagreements to what made us friends in the first place??

This is the same society that considers ones first marriage a "starter marriage" as if it is just a way to teach oneself about marriage; a stepping stone to "the real thing". What have we become as a people?

I have lost somewhere in the vicinity of ten to fifteen "friends" online. Why? Because I am a die hard Christian and because I can't stand our current president were the main reasons. Well, also because I didn't like the mother of a couple of them and how she lies and treats her kids but that's another story. But as for the other reasons, I had the nerve to stand up for my opinions on morality, on Obama and on God. THAT lost me friendships. God forbid that those people remember when they used to say how much they liked my humor and my style of writing and or/ even my personality.

It's too easy today to say goodbye. All it takes is the click of a mouse and you can forget you ever knew a person. It could be a person with whom you shared secrets and laughs, bonding over tears and memories. But that doesn't matter if they don't like what you say. You're just a click away from non-existence. Don't answer emails; delete delete delete. Simple huh? Shazam!! You never knew a person and owe them not even the smallest courtesy of a reason why. Am I the ONLY one who finds this horribly terribly sad?

I refuse to watch my words. Of course, I will employ politeness and tact but I won't say "oh yeah, I agree with you" if I don't. Even if it means losing your friendship. Because as simplistic, cliched and trite as it may sound, if all it takes for me to lose you is to say that you're wrong, there was never really a friendship in the first place was there??

Christmas poem :-D

My Silly Christmas Poem
If I could have one gift for Christmas
It would be for peace of mind
They're out of stock at Wal Mart
So that makes it hard to find

I cant afford the bigger stores
They'd probably have a good supply
But if I have to use my Visa
Not sure I want to try

I looked it up on Ebay
Thought I'd find it there
But I guess no one is selling it
Cause they don't want to share

I tried to knit some in my spare time
But I made a tangled knot
It came out looking more like
Some road kill that was shot
So it looks like this is not my day
To wish on a Christmas star
So I guess I'll have to settle
For a stale Hershey bar
CHOCOLATE!!!!!!


yes this is SUPPOSED to be silly and stupid :-P

The Soldier

He had never thought of himself as having been a good soldier. He drank too much and partied too hard. He sometimes took his work too lightly and his fights too seriously. But he was old enough to fight in Vietnam and had no reason to run from what he considered his duty, so he went... and he fought. When he went home, he realized he no longer fit in. Seeing so many people worry about their jobs, their money, their small annoyances when every day the men and women he had known were dying so that they could worry about those things annoyed him. More than that, it hurt him.
They hated him. They hated what they thought he stood for and what they thought he had done. The cries of "baby killer" and murderer" tore at his heart. To have people think that he and his buddies were killers, that they killed just for the sake of it made him wonder where the spirit of the country had gone. He knew that his fathers war had been different. WWII soldiers had come home to cheers and people who thanked him for saving mom, apple pie and The American Dream. He, on the other hand, had come home to sneers, hatred and signs saying he was no better than a modern day Hitler.

So he went back. He went back to the swamps, to the mud, to the sweltering heat and to the people he now considered his. He went back to the women who treated him like a god as well as the ones who had bombs strapped to their chests as they took their own lives just so that they could kill soldiers like him.

He did this for two tours of Nam. By then the war was ending and they sent him stateside. But he no longer felt like he was at home. So he drank more. He took various drugs to help him forget. He had made it through over two years of Nam without a scratch physically. But the scars on his heart and his mind were irreparable. He no longer knew how to survive without somebody shooting at him. He tried to get help but no one would listen. He was just one more wounded soldier without a scar.

One day, he decided he had had enough. So in a small hotel room in Indiana, he took a gun and he put a bullet through his brain. He left behind one son and a handful of friends. He also left behind a note saying he was sorry. He asked everyone to forgive him but said that he could no longer handle the pictures in his head and the way the world treated him and others who had fought in what so many considered a losing battle. he also said something I have never forgotten. He asked that if this ever happened again that we remember that the soldiers were just doing their job and not to hate them for it.

Sometimes now I wonder... have we listened to him? Or are we repeating the sins of the past and hating the men and women who serve our country during a war that most of us hate?

Twenty Four years ago tomorrow Jerry killed himself. What legacy did he leave behind? What legacy did all the soldiers like him, who suffered for us, leave behind? Do YOU remember them? I do... every March and every time I hear about one more soldier dying. So next time you want to rant and rave over the war, please... can you remember Jerry for me? He was only 33 when he died.