4:40AM. I wake from the oddest dream. There was an inflated balloon. There were spiders in the balloon. The balloon was blue. I kept holding the balloon up toward the light to see them. Good, none had gotten out.
I roll over to go back to sleep. I have to go to the bathroom. In the next few seconds, before my feet even hit the floor, my mind jumps to my son. The images, the messages come so fast. My gut aches as I try to calm my my mind. I've heard it said by someone, I don't recall who, that when you wake in the night like this, it's God waking you.
My prayers have been focused of late; along with carving out time to hear Him. Wanting to hear Him, to feel His presence, to trust, without doubt, that He's working. What I keep getting is to let go, to step back and let Him work within my son's life. Step back, step back, step back...this is immensly difficult, and a true test of my faith. I've been praying for the faith of Abraham, the faith of Moses, of Joshua
My prayers have been specific too. Asking for God's healing to his liver, his pancreas, his mind. Asking God to descend upon his life and infiltrate his thoughts, his decisions, his desires. Asking God to direct him. Again, I must step back.
Step back and let Him work. So I do, or at least I think I do. Keeping faith in mind, I question every text, every phone call that I make to him. Stop. Is this text or phone call doing any good? No. Am I constantly trying to persuade, to preach, yes. So stop. If I'm constantly trying to "fix it", then I'm not letting God work. I'm not focusing on my faith.
My faith has taken a beating lately. I've talked about that with God too. In the quite moments, when I stop to listen, I realize that He's telling me the reason I cannot fix this is because it's not mine to fix. It's His. It's not mine to wonder why or what the plan is for my son. It's to trust God's Will in the midst of each day, of each thought that rushes to my mind.
These burdens I carry won't live past today if I can just lay them down. Lay them down Jenny.
My eyes are heavy now. Sleep comes again. God woke me, I responded. Please God, give me peace to rest. Amen.
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 Thirty-four years ago today, I gave birth to my son.
He weighed 8lbs & 14ozs. He was 21 inches long and three days late. I remember taking a walk through the neighborhood the day before he arrived. The doctor had said that walking often brings on labor. So that's what I did, I walked. The doc was right. The pains woke me in the night. I can say with complete confidence that there are no words to describe the pain of childbirth. Insane, absolutely insane. In those days "natural childbirth" was all the rage. Insanity, pure insanity. Have you ever experienced a physical pain that was so intense that you couldn't be still? I rolled back-n-forth in the hospital bed. I held on to the headboard rail of the bed & rolled. As I lay there, I watched the monitor and was keenly aware of when the next wave of excruciating pain would come. In those days, hospital protocol was to administer an enema to the mother to be, in preparation for the babies arrival. That's fun...nothing like sitting on the toilet (if you make it that far) while having a contraction at the same time. There are other procedures they did back in those days that they do not do now. I'll spare you all the gory details, but most importantly there were NO epidurals. So natural childbirth was the way. Natural, right? God designed our bodies for this, the natural way was to experience every pound, every ounce, every inch of your child's birth. This experience builds the bond, the undeniable bond, with your brand new bundle of joy. Whatever... .. .I beg to differ. When he arrived, and they handed him to me, he was several shades of blue, purple, and red. He had a cone shaped head (from the salad tongs that were used to help him out of the tight spot he'd been in) in fact, as I type this I realize that perhaps those tongs set the tone for the life to come. Humm.... Anyway, when they handed him to me I remember thinking, this doesn't look like the Gerber baby?!?! I was supposed to have the baby I'd seen on TV, the perfectly colored & proportioned Gerber baby. Once I was in recovery, they allowed my family in to see me & greet my brand new angel boy. Everyone was there, my mom & dad, my grandmother, my best friend Kim, my brother & his wife, I was surrounded in love & support. The doctor came in, he stood at the end of the bed. He said "You'll forget this pain and have another. The roads been paved." In that very moment, when I heard those words, I said "No, I will not do this again." And I never did... .. . The entire experience was far to traumatizing. I'll never forget the nurse that was tending to me that day. She said "Honey, if you'd put all the effort into pushing that you're putting into screaming we'd all get outta here allot faster." Really?!?! Seriously?!?! I was a baby having a baby!!! I wonder where she is today? Most likely she works in a torture chamber somewhere. Or perhaps in a Turkish prison for women! My pregnancy and birth were not picture perfect, but my love for my son was perfect, is perfect. Undiminished in any way by the circumstances. I fell in love with him from the first moment I held him. With his imperfect coloring, his cone shaped head. He was my angel boy, and still is. When I look back over the road that he & I have traveled together, I've often wondered why? Why did God think I could handle such an enormous responsibility at such a young age. I've decided that perhaps I'm not to know the why's, but to accept His will for my life, present & past. That's what true faith is, I think. Faith is acceptance. Faith is surrendering. So as today dawns on 34 years of life with my son. I am grateful. Even with all our imperfections, both his & mine, he remains the BEST thing I've ever done. Thank you God, for entrusting Shaun to me. The love I have for him is uncontainable, it's palpable, it's real. Happy birthday my angel boy. Always, my angel boy. Love, Mom  In this room...God lingers. The room I'm speaking of is the student center at our church.
Miracle's do happen. I've discovered that miracles are in moments. Moments of progress, moments of change, moments of hope that give us the courage to press on through our lives. Last Friday night we attended Celebrate Recovery with my son. Celebrate Recovery is a program much like AA only Christ centered. I was thrilled that Shaun agreed to go and actually went. This was a miracle moment. Upon arriving at the church we saw our dear friends. These were the friends we first met when we started at Mission Community Church. I feel strongly that seeing them was confirmation that we were suppose to be there. Another miracle moment. The meeting started at 7:00PM, in the student center, in the room where God lingers...in my mind & heart anyway. As we sat down in our row, Shaun was tearful, and apologetic for having left the treatment center. I put my arm around him and said, "I know. We'll figure it out. We'll just keep working on it." The "it" I speak of is his sobriety. Our friends sat right next to us and I couldn't help but think of the memories, of the moments we've shared, in this room and at Mission. We've both lost a parent in these last few months. I lost my dad, and she lost her mom. Their memorial services were in this room. Just another confirmation that we were where we're supposed to be. I thought of daddy, I felt his presence in my heart, his support in this miracle moment. As the meeting commenced, and after worship, the speaker began to share. I was overwhelmed with all the confirmations that were coming our way! We were in the right place in this miracle moment. The topic was gratitude. He shared that given our situation, the situation being whatever brought us to CR, it could be difficult to feel grateful at this time, for anything. He shared a bit of his story and in so many ways, he was speaking directly to Shaun. Miracle moments abound! He shared of not wanting to work the program at first, AA or CR. He shared of feeling different, of feeling unique. He shared that he recalls feeling "Well that might work for you, but not me." He shared that someone told him "You could be so unique, that it kills you." Literally. He encouraged us to embrace "we", embrace the help, the program. He shared that he was so consumed in his own world that he couldn't see the forest for the trees. He was so wrapped up in the details of his daily life, that he couldn't see others, couldn't see past his own problems. Needless to say, that just resonated with me, as Shaun does the same thing. A miracle moment, a confirmation. He shared that if there were just a little pill that would fix his alcoholism that would be great. OMG! Shaun has said & tried that so many times, to no avail. He said that with that type of treatment alone, you may end up sober, but it would most likely be sober & miserable. Moment! He shared Philippians 4:6, which is my signature verse. I've clung to this verse so often. Philippians 4:6 New International Version (NIV) 6 Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. This was another confirmation that we were in the right place, another miracle moment. He spoke of the disease of alcholism. He shared that at times, when he thought of having a drink, just one drink...he stopped. He new that because of the disease, if he did that, it would only be worse, not better. Drinking again is always worse, never better. Another miracle moment. He said don't stop before the miracle happens. Please see my previous post An Early Exit, dated 09/3/2012, to see the miracle, the confirmation, in this moment. When the meeting was over, we broke up into smaller groups. As I entered another room I was greeted by someone that had initially greeted us seven years ago when we first started at Mission. Confirmation...moment. Soon the evening came to an end. As we walked to the car Shaun said that he would go again. So, here we are. Praying to get from one Friday to the next without relapse. I have no doubt that the enemy will try to attack. He does that whenever progress is made to further God's kingdom. I also have no doubt that God is bigger & stronger than the enemy and I know He loves Shaun. Amen. I ask all my readers to please join me in continuing prayer for my son Shaun. He is worthy. Amen  Look at that face! That cute, sweet, innocent, freckled face! Gosh what I wouldn't give to be able to go back in time. This was Shauns first grade school picture. Just think, at this age he thought there was nothing mom couldn't take care of. There are allot of good memories around this age. Birthday parties, matchbox cars, and baseball cards! Fast forward 27 years or so...  Now look at this face. That cute, sweet, innocent, freckled face has been buried under years of poor choices and alcoholism.
And the truth is, even if I could go back in time, most likely things would remain the same. It seems that this is God's plan, God's path for my son. Oh how I wish I understood why. God continues to place people & situations in his path and he doesn't see them. A total stranger found him in the street and stopped to help him last night. A total stranger called me, a total stranger stayed with him until we got there. He was an angel of mercy, I have no doubt, sent by God. On the way to the ER, I called the rehab center and asked if they would take Shaun back. I had to speak to the owner, but the end result was yes. They would take him back. The second angel of mercy showing up to nudge Shaun into sobriety. Once in the ER, A woman in the next bed over heard us talking and stepped into our room. She said she didn't mean to intrude, but she had heard our conversation and wanted to give Shaun her son's phone number. Her son had been a long time alcoholic and finally surrendered to God. He has since gone onto 20 years of sobriety and is a warrior for Christ. She was choked up as she told the story and told Shaun that God loves him. Another angel, sent by God. Today I talked to him about our lives, and God's design for our lives. I pointed out to him all the angels of mercy that God placed in his path yesterday. I shared with him about "free will" and about how much God loves him. I asked him to please surrender to God, so that should he die he would go to heaven. As we talked, it was hard to hear him say that he didn't care if he lives or dies. It was hard to hear him say that he has nothing to live for. I'm not sure if he said those things as a form of manipulation, or if he genunily feels that way. Either way, his is a very troubled, disturbed soul. When he was a young boy, about 7th or 8th grade I believe, he did accept Christ at church camp. Do you think that moment, long ago, counts? Tom say's it does. I pray it does. Please pray it does. Jenny My entire family is mentally ill. Now I know that sounds like the intro into what might turn out to be a humorous post, but no, it's not.
Just quickly, off the top of my head, this is how I see it. We have two alcoholics, one pot head, one hoarder, and one "not so sharp" tool in the shed. That leaves me and I know for certain that I am a nervous Nellie. Now there's two thoughts on my being a nervous Nellie. A - I inherited it from my family or B - my family caused it. I think it's a little of both A & B. I am, however...medicated. As long as I take my meds, the world makes sense. No, that's not right. It doesn't make sense, it's just tolerable. Yes, that's it. I'm medicated so that I can tolerate my entire mentally ill family. When you consider the fact that I am the most sound one among us; one must wonder, how did that happen? Maybe all the planets & stars were aligned in the appropriate order so all my chromosomes fell in just the right place at conception. I was thinking about "wonder" earlier. It went something like this; here I sit, thinking of my son. Wondering how much he's had to drink this evening. Wondering how long this can go on. Wonderng why. Wondering how long I will have him in my life. Thinking that maybe planning Daddy's memorial was a dress rehersal for my son's memorial. I can tell you though that wondering...sucks. I know that's not a pretty word, but it's the right word. Please forgive me Emily Post. I watched him today, from across the lunch table, and wondered what thoughts were going through his head. He's oh so very quiet. What's going on in his mind? So I ask him. He say's lots of different thoughts. I say, like what? He tells me this & that...but he's just appeasing me I think. I'm not sure if I'll ever really know my own son. I'm not sure that he knows himself. In fact, I'm sure he doesn't . He seems so uncomfortable in his own skin. He seems uncomfortable emotionally too. There's a definate science to the physical & emotional things his feeling. Our bodies require certain nutrients, certain elements to function accordingly. When we do not eat right, or hydrate, or get enough rest, it's reflected in how we feel. Our bodies begin to talk to us. This in turn, affects everything else, our thoughts, our emotions, our ability to reason, or be happy. It's truly miraculous when you stop to think about it. So when I lay my head down on the pillow tonight, I will still wonder. I'll wonder and pray and most likely never understand why. "I'm ok....just confused..."
That's what his text said. A mother knows when her son is struggling. A mother knows... Oh how I wish sometimes that I didn't. But that's not who I am. I'm the mother that knows; that wishes I could take all that hurts my son and absorb it into myself. I've always jumped in and cleaned up his mess. Like a big sponge absorbes liquid. Had I allowed him to feel the consequences of his own actions as an adolescent, maybe this wouldn't be happening. There are some things that as parents we just can't, or shouldn't fix. I don't know...I just don't know. No need to go over it time and again. It is what it is. I have to live in the now. Living in the past will not serve either of us. What is it though? What destructively evil afflication, what pestilence, invades someones heart, their mind, to the point that it destroys them? If you ask him, he'll say nothing. Nothing bothers him. He say's he just "likes to drink", it's as simple as that. Well I'm just not buying it. I'm just not. How could that be? How could that possibly be?? I feel strongly there is something more. Something that hurts so deeply that he can't even speak it. Maybe I've seen too many movies...or watched intervention to many times. In an emotional cry out to God, I express a sense of urgency. I hurt. My entire soul hurts. His situation is dire, it's all too consumingly terrifying. Please God, please intervene and get Shaun back to where he needs to be. Back to treatment. Amen As I pen this post, there are so many emotions flitting about the page. There's anger, frustration, guilt... .. . Anger because when he hurts, he gets to drown his pain in alcohol. When I hurt, I just get to hurt. Nothing to drown it in for me. They teach, "Relapse is part of recovery." I'm sorry, I find no comfort in that fact. So I turn to the Great Comforter. I attempt to drown my pain with God's Word. Through scripture & verse.  It was just a few days ago that we sent Shaun a card with this picture & words of encouragement.
I've only spoken with him on the phone a handful of times since he's been in treatment. Each time though, some of his comments laid the groundwork for an early exit from the program. Things like "I'm stuck on step one.", "I don't want to work the steps.", "I don't want you to come up for family weekend, it's too emotional.", "You don't need to come pick me up when I leave, they have a shuttle that goes down to the valley.", "Alcoholics are sick, that's why they call it an illness, our brains do not process information the way most people do.", "I'll have to fight this daily for the rest of my life." So I wasn't at all surprised last night when his advisor called me. I saw the name come up on the caller id and with it, the same old sick to my stomach familiar feeling engulfed me. Which brings me right back to where I've been so many times with Shaun. When does it stop? When does he mature? I've often cried out to God, "How much do I (we) have to endure as parents?" Shaun has said that the program is great, it's just not for him. Out of all they're teaching him, he hangs onto relapse is part of recovery. That's just an excuse to drink. I know Al-Anon teaches progress, not perfection, but in Shaun's case, relapse could take his life. After I spoke with his advisor, they allowed Shaun to call me. I said all the right things. I said "I can't believe you would give up on yourself like this?", I said "Shaun please, please, I don't want to have to bury you.", I said "If you won't do this for yourself, then do it for me.". Of course he tried to encourage me by saying that it won't happen again. I told him that I believe that he believes he can control it. However, I also told him that historically that hasn't proven to be the case. I said "What coping mechanisms have you learned that will ensure this doesn't happen again?". I asked that tonight while he's lying in bed, please think about what we've talked about. I told him to be honest with himself. I suggested that he go back to just getting through each day vs thinking about 60 days or 90 days from now. God has begun a good work in Shaun. God has opened all the gates. If Shaun leaves the program, that is not of God. That is Shaun. The Holy Spirit is such a gentleman. He won't fight Shauns free will...He'll just simply tap him on the shoulder in hopes that He reaches Shaun's heart. Please, dear friends, lift Shaun in prayer. He is worthy, he is God's child first & foremost. Amen  Last Saturday we took Shaun to A Sober Way Home in Prescott. In this picture we're sitting on the steps of the detox center, he was about to be admitted. He wanted a cigarette before they took him away.
As we sat there, I told him that I loved him. I told him that I am so very proud of him. I told him he can do this! He said he just wants to cry. He said it feels like we're just dropping him. I said it's ok to cry. I 'm sure there is some crying that happens in rehab. God knows there's certainly enough crying out of rehab. As Shaun finished his cigarette, Tom said the most loving words to him. Tom told him that no matter what, we're still a family. He told him he was proud of him. He gave Shaun the reassurance that he so desperatly needs. That's NEVER happened to us (Shaun & I) before. Not even his own father has said those words to him. Miracles happen that way, when God works. We walked inside, Tom gave Shaun a big ole bear hug, and held onto him for what seemed like a long time. Then it was my turn...I held his face in my hands....I told him he's my Angel Boy. Always my Angel Boy. God is with Shaun. It's God's Will for Shaun to get better. Amen. It's God's Will that awakened Shaun to the realization that he needs treatment or he will surely die. Amen. It's God's Will that broke all the barriers to make this happen. Amen. He has opened all the gates wide open! I know He will continue to do the same throughout Shauns recovery. Throughout Shauns life. Thank you Jesus. I have never been so humbled and so grateful. Drop to my knees grateful. Once home from the road trip to Prescott, I setteled down into a nice relaxing bubble bath. Tom came in and lit a candle for me. He turned on the sound box to the Ocean Surf setting. As I soaked there, immersed in bubbles, I thought about the details of the day. I ran my hands through the bubbles as they float on top of the water. I focused on the sound of the ocean's surf as it lapped against the sand. As the water receded, so did any underlying stress that was lingering. I thought about how calm I was throughout everything. It's the kind of calm, the kind of peace, that only God can provide. In the days that have followed since Saturday, God continues to work. He keeps me calm. He keeps me mindfull of the task at hand. He keeps me focused on what I can do, on what He wants me to do. He reminds me that He has brought Shaun this far and He will bring him the rest of the way. Lord God, thank you for your mercy. Thank you for a new cup of grace to get through each day. Please be with Shaun. Please keep him focused on his recovery. Please free him from the bondage of alcohol. Please release him from any worries he may have outside of recovery. Please reveal Yourself to him and please know how very thankful I am. Amen. It's 10:53PM and all is quiet here at Casa De Judson.
Outwardly all is quiet. Inside my heart & my head is another story. Inside my head is where all the "if''s" live. What if Shaun (my son) has relapsed into drinking. What if he comes home drunk? What if he's in a car accident? What if he gets pulled over? What if someone else gets hurt? What if he looses his job? So many what ifs. There's the what "ifs" inside my heart too. The what if I loose my son to this treacherous monster called alcoholism? What if? I've reached out to an online Al-Anon meeting. I've learned some really helpful tools. Let's see...loving detachment is one. Then there's the three C's, I did not CAUSE it, I CANNOT control it and I cannot CURE it! I also like When playing tug-o-war with an alcoholic, drop the rope. But the truth is, even though these slogans & coping mechanism's help tremendously, it's ultimately quite unbearable. It's unbearable to watch my son struggle so hard within himself. I try to imagine the battle that must be going on in his mind. It's like it's his mind vs his body. The mind always wins. For him to put himself into environments that tempt his addiction is no different than if he'd chose to step in front of a speeding train. I am suffering, and he is suffering. They tell me that relapse is a part of recovery. Well as childlike as it may sound, I don't like it! The roller coaster ride is enough to give anyone whiplash. I try to hang on to the fact that with each episode of drinking, progress is made. This last time huge strides in his progress towards recovery were achieved. Although that too has a heartbreaking side. How many chances will he get? Does he think that there's always another chance and another. He's not a cat . He doesn't have nine lives. Sigh... So I'm off to bed. My eyelids are heavy. Maybe my eyelids can talk my heart & mind into sleeping. Please God, keep Shaun safe tonight. Amen. Originally Published ~ 4/15/12 11:36 PM ~ Pacific Daylight Time Time changes things. My dad has always said that. In fact, he said it just yesterday. I smiled. He always says that when you've exhausted all effort, when you've done all you can, just turn over on your back and float (metaphorically speaking). Time changes things...
Obsessiveness. I've thought about it allot lately. I've noticed it. In myself. In the time since my son moved out, each day has gotten a little easier for me. But I have to fight it. The obsessive worry. Is he eating? Is he staying hydrated, with water? Doesn't he need or want the personal items he left here? I heard that the abuse of alcohol is a maladaptive attempt to self sooth. It is a defense mechanism. A way of dealing with life. When I checked in with his friend he said that things are going "Surprisingly well." He says that he's "Fairly certain Shaun is feeling better about himself." This of course is such a relief! It's also thought provoking. "Better about himself ..." I've actually never thought of how he'd been feeling about himself. It makes sense though. A maladaptive attempt to self sooth. Upon hearing this news I think; Was his situation really as dire as it seemed when he was here, or was it me? Then I think, nooo...it was his childhood friend that called me out of concern. Then I think, nooo... again, because anyone that develops "Alcohol Induced Pancreatitis" especially chronically, definitely has a problem. I pick up my phone to text. I don't know why, he doesn't respond for the most part, then I worry more. At least if I'm texting I'm doing something, instead of just waiting. Waiting for the Fire Dept., Police Dept., or hospital to call. Out of a sense of urgency, I text his friend for an update on the situation. As I do, it dawns on me, am I as accused? Shaun said I "micro manage" him. That was never my intention, my only intention was to keep him alive. I'm not sure I'm a micro manager, but I am definitely "co-dependent". I could be the poster child for co-dependence. Currently I'm reading From Binge to Blackout, an autobiography of a Mother and Son that struggle with the son's alcoholism. In the book the Mom says "Maybe I, too, am moving along, because I now realize that protecting him will no longer serve him." The light bulb in my mind flashes, and I realize that I wanted him here to "protect" him. To know that each day he's alive & breathing. I've never considered my protecting him, even from himself, as co-dependant. That's what it is though, co-dependence. History. We all have one. Our history helps to develop who we are and even who we aren't. Was his childhood difficult? Yes. Did I always set the best example? No. Does he feel rejection from his father? Yes. This being said; I've always taught Shaun that within ourselves lye's the power to change, to break the cycle, to make different choices, and to write our own story. He is writing his own story. It must be his own; it must be different than mine or his fathers. He continually reaches out to his father in a very sad but vain attempt to know him. I've told him to do what he feels he must do regarding his relationship with his father. I've told him to always "guard your heart". Is it incredibly sad? Yes. So the self examination and continual adjustments to my daily thinking are on going. In my very near future an Al-Anon meeting awaits... .. . Originally Published ~ 8/19/11 10:40PM ~ Pacific Daylight Time |
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