It's only me...

I got to talk with my son last night. He is in the Navy and between his school schedule and his duties, it’s difficult to know when he’s available to chat. I texted him a couple of times over the last few days and received no response and that got the committee in my head started. What did I do, or not do to make him avoid me? Oh yeah…I’ve got it bad.

My mom used to call me and when I didn’t answer, she’d hang up. When I saw her number on the missed caller ID and no message was left, my mind would race to places way out there. I finally got her to start leaving messages so that I knew: 1) when she called, and 2) if it was a “hey, there’s something important we need to talk about” or “it’s been a while since we talked and I just wanted to catch up”. (Yes, this was more about me than anything else.) So her messages started and more often than not it sounded like this: “Hey Jul, it’s only Mom. I never know when to call you, so…um…give me a call when you have time, okay?”

It’s only been in my sobriety that I have begun to think about this as another extension of how unimportant she felt. It’s difficult to look at my part in that. Did I do what I could to show her exactly how valued she was? Probably not. Okay, definitely not. And I wish I could do it over again. But I can’t. So instead, I’m working on staying in touch with my children, accepting their limitations, strengthening my own feelings of self-worth, and trying to not project my insecurities on them. When I remember my mom and try to conjure her voice, it is that voicemail that is played in my memory. And I embrace it.

So my son and I did talk. And it was as wonderful as always. It wasn’t too long ago that he would have nothing to do with me, so I feel eternally blessed that we have the relationship we do today. It turns out he’s got a lot going on and didn’t want to rehash some of it with me. I did my best to reassure him that I won’t push if he just says that he doesn’t want to talk about that right now, but I will ask because what’s important to him is important to me. Only time will tell if he can ever trust me again. As I try to live my life based on integrity and principles, I will become a better mom, giving my children what I didn’t give to them for so long.

“When we knew better, we did better.” (Thank you, Pammie.)

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

Surrender to a rainbow.

As I sit here wrapped in an afghan that my mother made (thanks to my sister for insisting that I bring it home with me this past Christmas), I am at peace.

The morning meeting on the beach was exactly what I needed today. The white flag that marks the meeting spot was a welcome sight. Though I did not participate in my usual round of joyful hugs and kisses before or after the meeting, the benefit of just being there was evident as I noticed a feeling of peace enter me.

The speaker, ironically, spoke of the death of his own mother (who succumbed to our disease) which he experienced in sobriety. He related the blessings to all that resulted from her passing. I have always viewed my own mother’s passing as a blessing for her. She was one day shy of her 71st birthday (yes, tomorrow is her birthday). She was relying on a wheelchair for mobility as well as losing her sight due to her diabetes. She was a very stoic, self-sufficient woman before her diabetes robbed her of the things we all take for granted. I remember sitting with her on her bed one day as she cried. She talked about how one plans for their “golden years” only to be sentenced to life as an “invalid”. Oh how I cringed when she used that word! To me that word, broken down meant “not valid”. It indicated the hopelessness that had settled over her. Little did I know then how I would become an invalid of a very different sort.

I never thought of her passing as a blessing of my life…until today. March 21, 2003, I believe, was the day I gave up feeling. I drank myself into oblivion that night. I no longer wanted to feel anything, ever. The denial of those feelings, and many more since then, set off a chain of events that brought me to the gates of insanity in just 4 ½ years. In classic alcoholic fashion, I had “lost” everything worthwhile in life. (I use quotes because many things that I “lost” were in actuality, pushed or given away. I say “lost” to simplify.) That gift of loss and desperation led me to surrender my will and my life over to whatever was bigger and more powerful than me: my Higher Power.

Though my life does not even remotely resemble the plans I had as a younger woman, I believe that my spiral to oblivion and beyond was necessary for me and for those I can help as a result. I still sometimes wonder “what if” and wish things were different, but I no longer want to check-out. I believe I am more whole. I trust there is a reason for everything. I love and I forgive. I laugh and I cry. I still make mistakes, but I now care and make amends promptly when I am wrong.

I saw a rainbow on the way to the hospital that afternoon. I used to cry whenever I saw rainbows after that day because they served as a reminder of my loss. I hoped to see one today in celebration of how far I have come since Mom died. It was overcast and foggy at the beach so there was no chance of that, so I’ll settle for the rainbow of emotions I can feel today without taking a drink. And the next time I do see a rainbow, I will smile and know that my mom is smiling down on me, proud that I am alive, again.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.