>I’m sorry to disappoint my anonymous commenter, but I’m thinking I might not be posting much about my son in the upcoming days; it just isn’t where my head is at and future blog posts are probably going to be about sex and the older woman….just warning you. But I’m happy to post this picture my husband took today of my son and I together having one heck of a good hair day.
He needed to come home to get some of his things so we picked him up on our way home from Rome and he’s spending the weekend with us. It is an interesting time for all of us as my husband and I practice loving detachment and he practices being 18.
Honestly, I can’t believe I’m here now, finally, considering where I’ve been emotionally over the past year. Learning to love and let live and let go of all my expectations has cost me dearly, but I’m here and I’m at peace. His choices aren’t ideal at the moment (I want him to go back to college!) but he’s sober and clean and he’s alive. I really am trusting God and it is a good place to be. I think knowing down deep that we’ve done a good job raising this difficult tortured artist child and that we’ve gone the distance and done all that we can do has helped a lot. I discipline myself to not regret things I can’t change now and to accept the way things are and to trust that God is going to work all this out for good, somehow.
I’ve been building up to this place over the past few weeks (since the Great San Francisco Debacle and my epiphany on my bathroom floor), but today I finally went to church with my head held high (wearing my 4.5 inch Italian self-imported peep-toe pumps helped immensely with that). I have nothing to be ashamed about and I refuse any longer to accept anyone else’s shame-trip. I think having our son attending with us (voluntarily) helped. Everyone can now see that he’s alive and doing well and that we as a family will go on. Maybe this tiny town can now move on to some other gossip and I can start shopping in our one and only grocery store within a 35 mile radius without fear of being judged.
Having your child dive off the deep-end is a horrible, horrible thing. Living each moment in terror that your child will lose his or her life or irreparably damage their life due to their own poor choices is nothing short of a nightmare. Being judged on top of that nightmare is its own nightmare. I think one of the greatest gifts a person can give another is the gift of not judging them. It is a lesson I’m taking to heart and I pray that I can give others this wonderful gift of not judging them when their child misbehaves. If that alone, aside from Christ, could be the only thing that I have to recommend me when I get to heaven then I believe I will have succeeded in this life.