When Stress Breeds Discontentment

Discontentment is my weakest state of being. I am most vulnerable to all of my demons and quickly reminded of times when I let them control me. This awareness used to invoke fear, which snowballed into failure. Discontentment was the perfect excuse for continuing my addiction, taking back my abusive ex, binge eating, binge drinking, spending money I didn't have on my appearance or material possessions, having sex with a random stranger for immediate gratification, or any of the other self destructive actions I used to take over and over and over, trying to make myself happy. It was my way of life. Of course the consequences always left me more discontent, and my life remained out of control because of it.


Over time and through my emotional development, I have spent a lot of conscious time on redefining contentment. When I was homeless and beginning my recovery from meth and I did not know where my next meal would come from, or where I would sleep that night, I learned a new level of contentment was possible. I was in the fight for my life, and the slip ups of past discontentment would surely break me. I had to search for meaning and happiness, and was initially only capable of finding them in small doses. Today it is still those small doses that carry me through and give me the most contentment. 


The last week has been filled with stress. Not the kind of stress that is good and causes a person to react when necessary, but the bad kind of stress. The overwhelming, hard to process, affecting my moods and my body stress. The aching neck and back, tension headache, physically exhausting stress. The kind of stress that beats down my small doses of contentment one by one and leaves me discontent and vulnerable. 


I know that I should be pulling out my emotional tools and using them, but I am too tired. We have not finished moving and already my mental and physical capabilities have diminished greatly. These are the times when the urge to use is the greatest and when my decision making skills are the poorest. I do not have the option to wait it out because we have a deadline to be completely out of the old house.


I refuse to surrender to discontentment. Some things are worth the fight.


So, I must look deep within , and recall what I have learned from the past, when I have experienced this feeling. I remind myself that the consequences only add to the burden. I remind myself that I can only do what I can do and that I will know contentment again. Stress and discontentment are only a temporary experience and I have successfully dealt with them before, even when emotionally worn down and tired, and I have found strength within to accomplish what feels impossible.


Moving sucks. I think I need to work on eliminating some of the (really heavy) material things we have acquired so that it is not as burdensome. Or maybe I need to save up money for professional movers next time, God bless their souls! 


Writing really helps me give myself perspective. I can recognize some of my small doses of contentment that I was missing, simply by expressing myself. I am thankful that my writing is an outlet that I am utilizing instead of exhaling from a glass pipe. 

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.

“There are some things you learn best in calm, and some in storm.”

Willa Sibert

"All I want for Christmas is.... Heroin" ~a confession

Last night I was left in an awkward situation. Me and Bryson and my 11 and 9 year old were at Bryson's cousin's house. Our 2 year old was with Bryson's sister (we are in the middle of moving and half at each house and settled nowhere). His cousin is in his early 30's and has a 7 year old daughter that he has primary custody of. I will call his cousin K and I will call his daughter J. J's mom has not been present in our interactions with K and J very often. Her and K manatin a civil relationship for the sake of J and we see her when she is picking up J from time to time.

I have not asked a lot of questions, but from what I gather, the sexual encounter that led to J, was pretty spontaneous and a relationship was never really an option.

Last night we had planned to stay the night at K's since we are not really settled. We all had a few drinks since we didn't have our 2 year old. J's mom was there and I wasn't sure why. She has a boyfriend that she lives with. Sometimes she comes to K's house to watch J, but not to hang out. I just figured it was none of my business and didn't ask- assumed maybe it was to spend time with J for the holidays.

J and my daughter Aliviya were already asleep. Bryson, K, and my son Destin were going to the complex's rec area to drive golf balls and I planned on turning in. It was just me and J's mom and I didn't expect to have to socialize with her since we have never been close.

Within moments after the boys left she was teary eyed and asked if she could tell me something. I wasn't sure what to expect or how to feel. I am a helping person by nature, and I was aware that there must be a reason she felt she could talk to me. I was not prepared for what she told me.

She has been using heroin for over a year.

I am pretty aware of what the right things to do and feel on my end are. We had a very good conversation (in light of the circumstances) and she is already going to a methadone clinic. No one knows except for her and her boyfriend and the "friends" they use with.

Her major realizations are:

• she cannot continue to live like this
• she is risking her relationship with her daughter
• it is not safe for her to be using when she is caring for her daughter
• her boyfriend does not want to get better or see her get better
• she has HepC because of her addiction
• she cannot continue financially supporting her and bf's methadone and drug habit
• her drug habit and lifestyle do not allow her to provide for her basic needs, much less provide for J
• she is lucky that J has a Dad like K and she wants his support in her recovery

Here are some of the really scary things she told me... Out of habit, even though the methadone keeps her from getting sick and keeps her from feeling high off the heroin, her and bf still use 1 time a day because she doesn't know how to face her day without the act of using. She is addicted to the dance of the drug addicted world (stealing, getting money, connecting with dealer, scoring, physically shooting up) and does not know what to fill that void with if she stops. She has sold herself for drugs and her bf is aware of it. Her bf is much sicker than her, and is dying from his afflictions. 

She has some really good awareness for someone who has faced this alone for so long. She had some really good  realizations that she is enabling her BF and that she is afraid to have any "help" because she knows it would really just cushion her recovery and enable her. She feels she needs to face the music alone. She also has a lot of guilt and an unhealthy relationship with bf. 

She really wants K to know, because he has been there to take care of J when she couldn't, but is afraid he will not let her see J until she is completely clean. She is afraid that without J in her life, she will not have the strength to keep going, but she is afraid for what she is, as an active user in J's life. 

She basically said that she wants me to "do what I think is necessary" because she knows that I have recovered from an addiction. (She was present sparingly during our meth addiction) She asked me to talk to Bryson and get his opinion on telling K. I asked her if she wanted me and Bryson to sit with her while she told K, and she conveyed that she connot do it and said that she "would not be mad if we told him." I know she is reaching out for help.

This morning was an agonizing wake up call for me, when I discovered that she was still there and had not got up in time for her and bf to make it to the clinic. I was still the only one in the house who knew. I tried to get her up but she said she was ok and continued to sleep. She woke up at noon and was very "dope sick." This made me wonder if she had missed going to the methadone clinic before today. I am not naive when it comes to drugs and had to consider if her desperation is because it is 2 days before Christmas, she got kicked out of the clinic or cannot afford to go, and or cannot afford dope. She laid on the floor in front of us all, curled up in pain, nearly crying. I asked if she needed anything and she replied that she had just taken some "medicine" and would be ok in a minute, she just needed to leave. She left in a hurry, telling J not to hug her because it hurt her and it was going to make her throw up. She rushed outside, leaving her phone behind and then threw up all over in K's parking place, and left.

She took some medicine? Did she shoot up in the bathroom? Did she have methadone with her? 

So I know that we need to tell K. Here is where I am needing advice. Do we tell him before or after Christmas? 

Moments of Clarity

Sometimes I feel like this...

Right isn't always easy.


I am not sure what exactly created the complex of people pleasing that littered my existence for 20 or so years. That complex walked side by side with self entitlement as well as lack of self accountability.


How did I develop such unhealthy perceptions about myself and others? Since when was everyone supposed to make me happy and fix things for me, and I in turn, in some sort of sick system of karma, would do it for the people that I cared about? I guess since my grandparents started doing everything in their power to make me happy and fix things for me, I learned by example.


I always viewed my relationships with adults as give and take. They gave, I took. It was the nature of childhood. They always did everything to accommodate me, encouraged me to fit in, tried to "keep up with the Jones'" (as they would swear they weren't), and upheld every standard of middle class society on the outside. We didn't argue loudly so that our neighbors wouldn't hear. Why would we care more about the neighbors hearing, then about why we were arguing?


Being the "gifted" child that I was (read- emotionally over mature, very adult socialized, always thinking, always analyzing, capable of digesting mass amounts of information), I started to realize that my whole life was a contradiction. As a child I would ask questions and be hushed away, told "I would understand when I was older" or given some sort of moral lecture that led nowhere and included typical adult phrases like "Do what I say and not what I do" or "Children should be seen and not heard" and ended in surrender, followed by some sort of material distraction. (toys or food usually) It was like their JOB to keep me happy and busy. My day was always full and they provided endless outlets and opportunities to occupy my time.


When I started to ask questions that no one had answers for, it became a family uproar. Why did I have to be so difficult? We do everything for you why isn't it enough?


My questions never went away and I still had this void. I quickly learned that all they wanted was for me to be happy, but since I wasn't, I learned that I should ACT like I was. I internalized all of my feelings about my dad's absence, my mother's drug addiction and subsequent suicide, and I put on a great act. I took advantage of all of the opportunities I was given (and not always in a positive way) and tried to make my life look like everyone else's.


I had no problem solving skills because my Grandpa always fixed everything for me in an effort to make us look ok. I had no sense of consequences because my Grandpa always took care of them so I wouldn't get hurt. Paid my rent, bought my car, paid insurance, court costs, counseling, prescriptions, diapers for my kids, groceries, tuition... whatever it took to make me look like a competent, achieving, person and mother. After all, if I failed, that somehow reflected that he had failed.


I started to become severely depressed. My lack of life skills and responsibility carried over into a lack of emotional skills and responsibility. It was like some grown up switch was turned and all of a sudden I was expected to do all of the things that had been done for me. No practice, no dress rehearseal, just GROW UP!

I wanted to be responsible. I wanted to do the right thing. I didn't know how, and all of my little failures started to wear heavily on my self esteem. My calls for advice (how do I cook a turkey? What setting do I wash darks on again? what kind of gas goes in a lawn mower? what does this light in my car mean?) turned into calls for rescue (if I don't pay this fine by Friday I might lose my license. My daycare sent the baby home and I can't miss anymore work. My power got shut off because I forgot to pay it. I went over my budget at the grocery store and need you to come give me $25 more so I can check out).


My Grandpa came to save me. He always had an answer or a dollar to fix every problem, paired with some frustration and disappointment that I just "didn't learn." When he started to say no a little more often because the money was running low, and my step grandma's patience wearing thin, I started to get really upset with him. He had always equated love with the material things that he provided, and now that they were diminishing, I equated it to his love diminishing.


I never had the much needed moments of clarity until he had passed away, I had fallen flat on my face in the game of life, and had to take a crash course in survival.


When I look back on my addiction to meth and try to envision what it would have looked like if he was still here, it horrifies me. I know he would have saved me and enabled my addiction to go on so much longer. Of course he was the only thing I thought I wanted or needed during that time. I wanted him to come fix it.


All that money spent, could have been replaced with time. All of that fixing could have been replaced with teaching.


I spent the first 7 years of my children's lives parenting like he did. I fixed everything. I kept the house immaculate. I washed their clothes, cooked every meal, optionally enrolled them in an academy and drove them every where. My daughter was in dance. My son was in karate. I made them finish everything they started even when they didn't like it. We were all so very empty on the inside. I was teaching them to ignore what was inside and to make it look ok on the outside.

When I started medicating what was on the inside with drugs, all of the material things took a back seat. I felt good about me, about life, about everything, for a change. I could think about all of the most painful things that had ever happened to me and still feel ok. It was as fake as all of the material things on the outside, but I didn't want it to be. I wanted to be that happy all of the time.


Using street drugs isn't like prescriptions. You don't go to a Dr. and get a piece of paper saying it is ok to get some of your "happy medicine." You don't go to a pharmacy and turn over your piece of paper and a reasonable amount of money for a month's supply of it. I don't think I need to go into details of what does happen in order to obtain the drugs. What starts out as something that seems to make your life livable and better, turns into a nightmare to maintain. As my addiction consumed my life, I would often think- If only meth was sold at the convenience store.....


fast forward...


When I was finally doing the emotional work and learning to fill my void minus the drugs, I learned.... that I had a lot of learning to do. I basically needed to parent myself. I needed to try and fail. I needed to learn what made ME happy on the inside... not you... not my kids... not my kid's teachers... not my grandpa. Sigh... 

fast forward again


Today I have clarity about my life. I live in this moment. I have hope. I set goals. I achieve maybe half of them. I am gentle with myself because I am still learning. I will always be learning and I look forward to the lessons in my failures. I do not set out to be a perfect example for my children by way of expectations and accomplishments. The example I set for them is that it is ok to try and fail. It is ok if they want to pursue their own dreams. Love, forgiveness, and hope without expectation provide a safe environment for learning and for teaching.


So what does my parenting template look like compared to that of 3 generations past?


I let my kids try and fail. In fact, I hope that they fail. Why? I love to watch them learn life lessons in small and safe doses. I like to be a part of their life and to encourage them, to be who THEY want to be, not who I want them to be. Having good moral character and being whole on the inside has nothing to do with money or possessions or some credential on the wall. Accomplishments are a great part of the journey, but alone they fall flat. We do not try to impress other people. We laugh at ourselves often. I don't criticize them for making mistakes. I have empathy for the consequences, but I do not fix it.


Instead of just teaching them to try not to break things, or showing them how I would fix it, we learn to fix them together. This includes toys, furniture, cars, and hearts :) They teach me a lot.


I let them take responsibility for as much in their life as possible. They definitely don't do it the way I would, but they learn more when they do it. Our life can look messy from the outside. It's okay, because sometimes it is, but now there are moments of clarity.

Not Having Christmas!

Seems I have a lot of explaining to do!


The roller coaster I ride called "My Life" always has something new for me. It is never the same ride, always a new hill to climb, then a great thrill around the corner, maybe even some moments of sheer terror, and of course the free fall adrenaline rush of making it over the hill.


There is one big difference in "My Life" present, than in past. All of my past... childhood past, grown up too soon past, tweaker past, victim past... The big difference is I do not want off until the ride is over. I am never really afraid of the next hill. Sometimes I get bored waiting for my next challenge, but I never have that feeling of , "STOOOP THE RIDE, I WANT OFF!"


I don't reflect nearly as much as I used to. In fact, reflecting in the past was more of an obsessive, painful, over analyzing state of mind, always followed by expectations. Now it is more of a brief moment to look at how I have gotten to where I am, what I have learned, followed by hope and goal setting.


All of this being said, I do not have expectations for much, and Christmas is included. It is a good thing, because this year, "My Life" through me a sharp fast turn that left me completely disoriented as I began a loong loon slow climb up my next hill.


Here is a random breakdown of what I see up ahead on my hill. By the time you read this, a few things may already be behind me.

• lease is up
• rent is too expensive here
• health problems
• no insurance
• criminal record
• credit problems
• children and Christmas time
• no one will do a 6 mos lease
• applications for rentals are strict due to increase in evictions
• student loans not resolved due to "clerical error"
• one vehicle is broken down
• 2nd vehicle needs tired
• moving requires deposit before we get our current deposit back
• moving 4 days after Christmas
• eminent bankruptcy
• garnished tax return (for afore mentioned student loan error)
• won't finish college as planned
• year long road trip moved out a year

All of that and we are armed with about a whopping $140.00 to get through a week and a half (food, gas, 2 adults, 3 kids -one in diapers), followed by one more check before Christmas that has to include a moving truck, expenses for 2 weeks and our electric/heating bill and transfer fees. We have gotten each older child one gift, and nothing for the baby yet. We are not decorating, because I cannot forsee moving a 4 bedroom house in one day, with a 2 year old, four days after a Christmas that included decorations. All of this almost sounds devastating in my head as I type it out.


It's not. If you can stand it, my kids are amazing, and they were so scared we weren't going to have ANYwhere to move, that when we found a much smaller place, with no yard, and all we could get is a year lease- they were OVERJOYED that we will still have a HOME. When we explained that they would only get one major gift ($50 each we spent) and a few little things (that I will be getting courtesy of the amazing Jeffco Action Center Santa shop) and that we would have our own little housewarming celebration in January- they said "it's ok," with warm smiles and they meant it.


I do not speak of religion much, because I do not feel it is my place to sway someone who is not looking for new direction in that area. I have come to my own conclusions based on my experiences, my wisdom, history, and how I feel.  I do not believe in the "God" that most do. I have my own system of morality, and basically I equate "God" with good and so everything that IS good is what "God" is to me. My own personal belief is that the idea of religion and faith are strong principles and they work for many people who need them. I believe prayer works because it creates "good" energy. I believe that when people "give it to God" they are surrendering to their inner most powerful good and of course "God"is in all of us because there is good in all of us.


That being said, our family celebrates Christmas not out of Christian beliefs, but in a sense of spiritual coming together of all that is good, to acknowledge the good that is within each of us and to share that good with others, and of course national tradition.


Many of you who have gone back to the beginning of my story, or have been here all along, are familiar with my varied religious upbringing, the lack of "family," and the many confusing Holiday seasons following so much loss. I have had to recreate what many aspects of life mean to me and I choose to define them my own way, filled with love and hope. I do the same for holidays and celebrations. This is after all, "My Life," shouldn't it be the one I create and define instead of the one my nosy neighbor thinks I should have, or my condescending, judgmental grandmother prefers, or that ever annoying seems to know-it-all d*mn talking screen in the living room says it should be?


This year will be just as special as any. I think likely it will be one of the more memorable years. Not because of Bryson's famous stuffing, not because the kids got the newest most expensive high tech gift, and definitely not because of our richly decorated home, filled with people, food, and gifts. Those things just cannot be afforded.


This year will be special because we have each other, because everyone in our family appreciates that, and because we are still filled with love and joy and hope, not expectations.


Perhaps next year will be a different celebration. Who knows, we may be moving at the end of our lease again. Perhaps our planned life trip will beginning to rematerialize.  Whatever happens, our love remains. Ever changing... growing... adapting... but ever present.