Saturday, December 26, 2009
The quiet after the storm
I am feeling disconnected and a little isolated.
It is okay, it is some much needed time for reflection, and for me to reconnect with my own values.
We will be moving in two days, and with it comes some stress. We are completely transitional right now. Half at each place. Nothing tied up, nothing complete. I am so thankful we had somewhere away from both places to spend Christmas. It was simple and wonderful. I am, however, glad it is over and now I can put my time into completing this move. I have also reached the quiet after the storm of the "heroin confession"....
The situation with the "heroin confession" played itself out on Christmas Eve. This was the first time I had some time with K alone, without the kids. He is Bryson's cousin, but I consider him my family as well. After a lot of consideration and consulting with Bryson, I knew I needed to tell him. I asked him if J was going to be with her mother at any time for Christmas. Had he said no, I would have tried to wait until after. The plan was for J to spend Christmas day with her mom, so I needed to let K know so that he could make an informed choice regarding his daughter's safety.
As was mentioned, he did have some idea something was going on, but did not know it was something as bad as heroin. His reaction was as good as could be expected. Of course it means there is a lot more over his head, as if he wasn't already doing most of the parenting. He was mad, sad, disappointed and expressed that he felt that J had already lost her mother. Apparently because of J's moms's lack of parental responsibility, her only regular interactions with J are to get her to school everyday and random visits either at her Dad's house or K's house. She doesn't take J to her own apartment. K has decided he needs to figure out a way to get J to school without her mom's help. He doesn't want the chance of any of her illegal and drug related behavior to put J at risk. He doesn't want her alone with her mom or riding in her mom's car. Good plan.
Although he was embarrassed, he expressed gratitude that I told him, and it did not overshadow Christmas. We still had a great day with the kids. K is a strong guy with a lot on his plate, but he handles it well and is a good Dad.
I realize now that I have to trust my heart. I know how to evaluate a situation and what factors are most important to me. The right choice is rarely the easy choice. I am lucky to have Bryson to back me up and to provide sound moral advice. I do not know what will be in store for J's mom. I hope recovery, but I know the odds, and I know that not me, or Bryson, or K, or J, can fix this for her.
Christmas night was another night of confessions. We spent some time with my kid's Dad's family. For those that do not know, he is deceased. We only see his family at Christmas, but it is usually a nice reunion, like no time has passed. Just joy for the time we get together, no resentments, no grudges. This year was like most, except that I learned that his niece is struggling with bulimia. It is heartbreaking. Everyone kept talking about how she has the same personality as Thomas. He was very close to his nieces. A lover of all children, really. His death was somewhat of a self fulfilling prophecy, so of course that relation invokes fear. Her bulimia started the year he died. Again, something that I cannot fix. Again, I remember what I have learned. Surrender is important. Expectations breed discontent.
I continue to remain grateful. I am thankful for every part of existence that I get to take part in. I know that there is purpose in my life. I have no expectations for my purpose, I only wish to fulfill it. Even in the face of these challenges, I have found meaning. I have connected to people, if even for only a brief moment. Moments of clarity have presented for many.
My journey as a mother is forever moving onward and sometimes through the courage of others and their willingness to admit their weaknesses, I learn something. Maybe I even teach something. I see the light in the darkness. Maybe I can be the light in the darkness.