ENABLING: PART II

Last week’s meditation evoked responses about the word ‘enabling.’ This dad’s comment below represents the general feeling among many parents about the lack of clarity between enabling and loving.

A dad wrote to me: We enable because we love our children and then we turn around and blame ourselves for helping them. It’s not fair to us, so I have chosen to do one of the four. When the choices are enable, blame, shame or love, I will choose love and “Stay Close.”

My personal reaction: We parents love our children and want to make things better for them. For me, I wasn’t sure what to do to help Jeff and almost ‘loved’ him to death. In the end, I chose to follow the advice of an Italian recovering alcoholic, “Do not abandon your son, but don’t give him money. Stagli vicino: stay close to him.”

Today’s Promise to consider: Our grown children make their own choices: some good, some not good. We can’t live their lives or choose for them, but we will love them and stay close.

ENABLING AND FORGIVENESS

Jeff with niece Iysa

A mother wrote to me: My son is using heroin. I tried to help him, but also know I enabled him more than helped. I recently told him he had to leave my home after money went missing again. I questioned myself – was I wrong or right? He said he wasn’t using again, but then I found proof that he was. It is the constant questioning of myself and my feelings that is breaking me. I want so badly to believe him, to believe he is telling me the truth, but it’s hard especially when time after time I find out that I have been fooled.

My personal reaction: I enabled and many of us do. Dr. MacAfee writes, “Libby both helped and enabled her son. This is oftentimes a normal response. The mother-son bond is natural and deep, and her attempts to help by bailing him out were acts of love. She wanted to trust her son; however, she didn’t see the level of duplicity and deception that he was living. Not initially and not for many years.”

Today’s Promise to Consider: Enabling or not enabling – it can be confusing. I will forgive myself for all the mistakes I made and for all the times I didn’t have the answers. I’ll forgive my loved one, too. Today, I’ll find strength in forgiveness.

MOTHER TO SON

Hughes photographed by Carl Van Vechten, 1936

Langston Hughes wrote the following poem. We offer it to you for the New Year. Our children learn from our example. As my dad used to say, “When you’re a parent, there is no quit.”

Well, son, I’ll tell you:

Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

It’s had tacks in it,

And splinters,

And boards torn up,

And places with no carpet on the floor —

Bare.

But all the time

I’se been a-climbin’ on,

And reachin’ landin’s,

And turnin’ corners,

And sometimes goin’ in the dark

Where there ain’t been no light.

So boy, don’t you turn back.

Don’t you set down on the steps

‘Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.

Don’t you fall now —

For I’se still goin’, honey,

I’se still climbin’,

And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

GRATITUDE: Remembering Thanksgiving, 2004

November 29, 2004: Jeff’s email messages to his dad and to me.

Dad, Sorry about my absence on Thanksgiving. Trying to stop this craziness on my own is impossible. 

Mom, I don’t know what I need. I’ve never felt so powerless and unable to activate change. I’m paralyzed. I’m miserable and just need to get out of this situation.

My reaction to Jeff’s words, seven years later: I would like to write that these memories are distant, faded into the recesses of my heart. But I can’t. I remember well those years of chaos and destruction. I wrote, “Jeff’s words pierced me: powerless, unable to activate change and paralyzed. In California with no support system of friends and family, Jeff was coming face-to-face with himself.”

My promise for today: After a fourteen-year addiction, I know we are blessed that Jeff is healthy and sober today. Jeff fought for his life and there was nothing I could do but Stay Close. On this Thanksgiving Day, our family is deeply grateful that Jeff is home. Where there is life, there is hope.

SOMEBODY’S PRAYING

01 Somebody’s Praying

Grandmom Cataldi with Jeremy and Jeff

A mother wrote to me: I wonder how many prayers we have lifted up as moms of children in this journey? And how many prayers others have lifted up on our behalf in an effort to do something, anything to support our both tender and strong mother hearts. How many prayers are lifted up, especially during those times when there is no clear answer to, “What do I do?”       

Time heals, the brain heals, our hearts heal…little by little. I’ve come to believe that ‘little by little’ turns out to be way bigger than we tend to give it credit. Hope fuels us through the hardest miles.

I’ve attached a song about prayer that I recorded for a friend who was going through a challenge a few years ago. It was written by John Elliot and the lyrics remind us how much comfort and strength come to us through those who never hesitate to ‘pray us along.’

Dedication: This mom and I offer you the song with our love. For me, I dedicate it to my mom who bombarded the heavens for Jeff. He was always in her prayers and in her heart. She is our prayer warrior. She prays us along – all of us, my brothers and their families, me and mine. She knows no other way. Thanks, Mom. We love you.

(Please click on the link above the photo 01 Somebody’s Praying to hear the song.)

Somebody’s prayin, I can feel it 

Somebody’s prayin’ for me

Mighty hands are guiding me

To protect me from what I can’t see

Lord, I believe, Lord, I believe

Somebody’s prayin’ for me.

 

Angels are watchin’, I can feel it

Angels are watchin’ over me

There’s many miles ahead ’til I get home

Still I’m safely kept before your thrown

‘Cause Lord, I believe, Lord, I believe

Your angels are watchin’ over me.

 

Well, I’ve walked through barren wilderness

Where my pillow was a stone

And I’ve been through the darkest caverns

Where no light had ever shown.

Still I went on ’cause there was someone

Who was down on their knees

And Lord, I thank you for those people

Prayin’ all this time for me.

 

Somebody’s prayin’, I can feel it

Somebody’s prayin’ for me

Mighty hands are guiding me

To protect me from what I can’t see

Lord, I believe, Lord, I believe

Somebody’s prayin’ for me…


 


TIME HEALS

Jeff with Grandmom Cataldi

An entry from my personal journal: August, 2009: Three years sober and my son is blending the best parts of his youth with what he’s learned from his addiction. His plates have sifted, crashed together and new land had emerged. He’s stronger; he’s more himself. He’s becoming whole, fully integrated – he’s becoming who he was meant to be. As his dad once said, “I think we’re seeing the flight of the Phoenix.”

My reaction to the entry above offering my thoughts today: I don’t know much about neurology, but I’ve read that it takes several years for the brain to restore itself, to heal. When my son reached his third-year anniversary of sobriety, I saw a huge difference in him: His sentence structure was more complex, his vocabulary was richer and his ability to reflect and take time before making a decision was evident. He was taking better care of himself and was more knowledgeable about his own sensitivities.

Today’s Promise to consider: Recovery takes time and life looks different in sobriety. The brain doesn’t heal all at once. I will celebrate each victory. I will celebrate today. I will continue to hope and believe.

 

 

 

NOT ALONE

Families in solidarity

A mother wrote to me: Two of my three children are addicted to drugs and my life has been inextricably altered. The relationship between mother and addicted child is unique, but I know that that does not diminish the experiences of other family members. Through group work, I talked with another mother who just found out that her child is addicted. She is panicked, confused, and said that she feels isolated, alone, shamed, scared and angry. I realized that I am not alone.

My thoughts on the above passage: There are four S’s used with addiction: shame, secrets, silence and stigma. We feel as though we are drowning in our own emotions and we don’t know what to do. I kept the secret of my son’s addiction because I felt shame. In silence, the addiction grew. But when I reached out my hand for help, I realized I was not alone.

Today’s Promise: I will join together and bring addiction out of the shadows so it can be healed. My loved one is fighting a powerful force and I will talk with other mothers and fathers and break the silence. In our pain, I will understand; in our stories, I will find hope; in our love, I will continue to believe.

 

HUMBLED BY ADDICTION

A mother wrote to me: My son is still doing well. He has been sober now for seventeen months and, as you know, it’s still one day at a time. I don’t think I will ever totally be free from this addiction thing. I have been so humbled by it.

My reaction to the above passage: The words, “I have been so humbled by it,” touched me deeply. I was once Head of School where the system was set-up so that I was in charge; I was a boss. In the face of addiction, I learned that I was in charge of nothing and didn’t even have the ability to save my own son. In the face of addiction, I learned to be grateful for the little things like surviving five minutes. In the face of addiction, I learned that humility is a good thing.

Today’s promise to consider: Being humble is a powerful teacher. Today is not the day for arrogance or pride. I can get on my knees to pray, I can reach out my hand for help and I can ask someone to forgive me. Today I will think less about myself and my own worries and more about those I love.

 

 

 

 

WISHING THERE WERE MAGIC

A mother wrote to me: My seventeen year old daughter is a heroin addict. Legal issues placed her in rehab. This one is a 60-day stay as opposed to the previous two that were fourteen to twenty-one days. She has been gone for fifty days and shortly she will come home. I have been to Al-Anon meetings and my husband and I have been to couples counseling. In my heart of hearts, I’m scared. She has manipulated me easily in the past. I am her target and she is my only daughter. Maybe I’m just having weak days. I know there are no magic words to help me.

My reflection on the above passage: I wanted magic words. I wanted someone, anyone, to tell me what to do, how to think and what to say. I was trapped in that place of isolation and silence yet wanting to scream my story from the rooftops hoping that someone would give me a game plan, a sure-fire technique that would save my son and our family. I was scared and I wanted answers.

Today’s Promise to consider: I will stay close to my addicted loved one. I will let her know that she is loved, but I will not give her money to support her addiction. I will keep strong boundaries for myself and pray that she finds her. I can only offer my love.

 

 

 

 

KEEP COMING BACK

A mother wrote to me: I went to my first Nar-Anon meeting last Tuesday and am going back tomorrow evening. Just in the 60+ minutes that I was there, I felt a new sense of freedom and energy this past week. No one understands completely what it’s like to have an addicted loved one except for those who are living that experience themselves.

My reflection on the above passage: This reminds me of the saying, “Don’t judge a man until you walk a mile in his shoes.” In Al-Anon and Nar-Anon, we know the walk of the people in the rooms and we listen without judgment because we’ve been there. Maybe this is true with any trauma. I know that when I had breast cancer I found comfort talking with other people who understood what I was going through.

Today’s Promise to Consider: I will share my feelings, fears and pain with others who have walked in my shoes. I’ll keep coming back to Al-Anon and Nar-Anon.

 

 

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