HONESTY: FACING REALITY

A dad wrote to me: I never realized honesty was going to be so painful; however, it’s worth it. 

Honesty, for me, means facing reality.  I, like you, took great pride in being the very best parent I could be. When, drug abuse raised its terrible, ugly and disgusting head, my immediate reaction was to hide, avoid and dismiss the fact that this could happen to our family. I went through phases: First shock, then despair, followed by embarrassment. I asked myself, “How could this happen to my family?” I thought addiction could only happen in dysfunctional families, not mine. My marriage, like yours, ended in divorce and this added to my self-blame. Keep in mind, the whole time I was doing my very best, I still took the blame. Finally, honesty arrived and I began to start living again. Honesty began the process of healing my family.  It was just so painful getting to honesty.

My thought: This dad arrived at a place of healing by embracing honesty and facing reality. Dr. MacAfee says, “When people meet on the common ground of truth, difficult though it is, healing happens.” The Big Book of AA says, “Sobriety can only be found in rigorous honesty.”

Today’s Promise to consider: Facing reality can be excruciating, but I’ll try. It’s the only path that leads to healing. I won’t blame myself or anyone else. Even the ugliest of situations are made better with honesty and faith.

 

 

 

NEVER GIVING UP HOPE

Jeremy asked me (May, 2009): “How will you end the story about Jeff?”

I admitted, “I don’t know, Jer. It’s not my story to end.”

His answer was clear, “But that’s the point. We don’t know what will happen to Jeff, but no one can ever take away our hope. You have to end the story in hope.”

And we did.

My reaction today: Jeremy was wise. In the midst of Jeff’s fight against his addiction, Jeremy, the younger brother, knew that we could never give up hope. He held tightly to this even when my resolve faltered. Jeremy helped me to be strong.

Today’s Promise to consider: Jeff is healthy today and our family is deeply grateful. We are humble as we continue to learn and grow each day. Jeremy taught me that hope is a powerful source of strength.

 

 

 

GIVING BACK

Uncle Jeff and niece Iysa

A mother wrote to me: I work in a hospital and today we received a seventeen-year old, attempted OD and positive for opiates. I felt so helpless. I knew there was probably (hopefully) a mother, father or someone with this young addict and I wished I could have gone to his or her side to offer support. I know that feeling of being in the ER with a loved one, frightened.

I feel it’s time for me to give back, to do something. Please pray that I have the courage and strength to follow through with offering myself to speak with/be there with other families in time of need.

My personal reaction to this message: I will pray that this mom and others find the courage and strength to step forward and help others, to reach out a hand to a brother, mother, father or sister. Addiction is steeped in shame, stigma, silence and secrets. Stepping forward is not easy, but when I was young, we didn’t talk about abortion, homosexuality or even divorce. Today we talk about these issues and confront them.

Today’s Promise to consider: I will find the strength to help someone today. I will reach out a hand or lend a listening ear. I will do it simply and be present for another.

 

 

TALK LESS, PRAY MORE

Three years ago, I wrote: For me, as a mom, I’ve adopted a new motto: Talk Less, Pray More, and I usually remember to abide by it. I stay close to my sons, trying not to enable or interfere, and I respond with greater patience and understanding. My sons know that they are my priority, and I laugh when I tell them a familiar Italian expression, ‘la mamma è sempre la mamma,’ which means ‘the mother is always the mother.’ All over the world, this seems to be a universal truth.

My personal reflection on this passage: Jeff is sober today and our family lives in a space of gratitude. We also understand that we must stay humble in the face of addiction because it lurks in the shadows, always taunting, biding its time, gauging just the right moment when vulnerability is high and relapse is possible. We must stay humble and grateful – and continue to hope and believe.

Today’s Promise to consider: I can’t control or fix anyone or anything, but I can listen more closely, respond with greater compassion and pray more. And I will.

 

 

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.

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.

COURAGE

A dad wrote to me: Our children have to fight their addictions and win. We, as parents, will never know how hard their battles are or understand the strength they need. I think that anyone who has battled through addiction deserves a lot of credit.

My personal reaction: Dr MacAfee says, “Addiction is loss.” Recovery, he said, offered Jeff the space to rediscover his identity and, in time, the real Jeff would emerge. This was a journey that Jeff would have to do alone. I came to realize the enormity of the fight that he had to face in order to win his battle against addiction.

I once told Jeff, “You have a lot of courage to do this again.” He paused and then said quietly, almost to himself, “Courage? That’s a word rarely used with people like me. Yeah, it takes courage.”

Today’s Promise to Consider: Words like strength, courage, and hope are seldom used in the same sentence with addicts. My son and I faced journeys of despair and self-discovery. Courage: we both needed courage as we made decisions that would lead to our health and wholeness. My son chose to fight his addiction. I chose to fight my anxiety. We both chose to change.

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.

 

 

 

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