I miss him. I really miss him. As angry and upset and everything I’ve been now, I miss him. I hope that we’ve been apart long enough that he misses us.
He sounds down on his phone calls. Very down. The counselor says this is an improvement over the cool cheerfulness he had when he first got there. Somewhere over the past 6 weeks he’s realized that he’s in here and not at some expensive boarding school. We can only pray.
I’m almost finished with Beautiful Boy. I have so much I want to say but I don’t have the book with me, so I can’t exactly quote it. Towards the end, the author begins the realization that as much as he’s suffered his son has suffered more. I doubt anyone who hasn’t been down the road of life-threatening drug addiction would understand that…I have. I know what it is to walk in my son’s shoes, and I need to keep remembering that even though I’ve tried to put those nightmares away. Now I have to dust them off and make them fresh again….so that I keep my compassion and am not swallowed up in my rage.
I’m so often wrapped up in my own agony of terror, hopelessness, and all my lost dreams that I forget that my son is also suffering. I feel that the Lord is trying to wedge open a new place in my heart.
My go-to coping mechanism for people who continually hurt me is to cut them out. Like a precise surgeon, I cauterize people who hurt me out of my life and out of my heart. I’ve done it many times. I’m not saying it doesn’t leave it a scar because it always does, but once gone…they are gone. My sister is the last person I did this to. Now, when I think about her, I feel a sad regret, but no loss whatsoever. She’s been cut out. I’m not saying this is healthy or right or admirable or anything. I’m just saying it because it is true. When people hurt me, I get rid of them.
But I cannot cut out my son. I can’t. I’d have to do surgery on every single cell of my being. Any attempts to cut him out will kill the patient…I may still breathe, but I know I’ll be dead. To stop loving my son means that I won’t have a heart anymore and I can’t do that…I can’t do that to my husband or my beautiful daughter. I can’t kill my heart because they need me. And as much as I want to (and trust me, I want to) I cannot stop loving my son no matter how bad it hurts because he needs me, too. But the pain is so terrible that I don’t think I can endure it.
I cannot approach this problem like any other I’ve ever had before. I do not know what to do. The Lord has to give me a heart big enough and strong enough to love my son despite the pain. There is no other way.