July 9, Thursday - Lesson #2

A rocky monster in Bomarzo Park, Italy, photo by Robert Fogliardi (click on picture to enlarge)

There are in life many things over which we have no control. In fact that might be the first big lesson that most of us need to learn. There are also some things in life, over which we are the only one who has any control. This may certainly be the second big life lesson. We all have our tendencies to either try to control everything or refuse to take control over anything. For much of my life I have been one of the former types, totally exhausted most of the time from trying to keep everything together. Believe me it's hard and most importantly, it doesn't work. One thing I have noticed from talking with my friends, control is a pretty common addiction

More than any other situation, being the mom of a son with mental health and addiction problems has taught me the lesson of letting go, not once but over and over again. I cannot ensure that he has a safe place to live, adequate food, or even that he does not kill himself in the process of satisfying his addictions. There is no bottom line, absolutely nothing to hang onto. Anything could happen and much of that anything has already happened.

I was first aware of his drug problems when he was twelve. He's now nearly forty. I could not even begin to tell the story of what he has been through. Note I did not say what "we" have been through. That's progress. He has been through scores of treatment programs, hospitals, jails and violent, horrific situations on the street. When he was younger, I felt as crazy as he was most of the time. As he got older, very gradually, I was able to create some space between us, to extricate myself from the craziness some of the time. I never stopped loving him. I just started noticing that nothing I did to help ever made any difference. It is a humbling experience not to be able to help your child. But by the time he was thirty-five I pretty much had it figured out and had my control impulse under control. Have you ever noticed that someone up there seems to be watching these things, so that as soon as you have one life lesson under your belt you get sent a package marked "Lesson #2"?

Lesson #2 in this case came in the adorable package of a baby boy. In other words my son who was barely able to navigate the world on his own, now has a child. This means of course that his decisions, however misguided, now affect not only him, they directly affect a little boy. When the baby was born, I rallied to help with essential needs. Now a year and a half later, they live one step from the street. I want my son to get a job and take care of his child. But I know this may not happen.

On Monday I am leaving for Minnesota to visit them. Since my "fix-it" mode of control is not totally dormant at this point, I started to think of ways I could help the situation. I spoke with my son about the possibility of his entering a treatment program to start the process of being a responsible dad. He didn't say no. So I made an appointment for an intake assessment at a facility that specializes in the treatment of mental illness complicated by drug addiction.

For a couple of days I went around congratulating myself for being a helpful mom and grandma. But that didn't last. Today my son called to tell me that he is not going to the appointment because he has been through a million treatment programs and what he really needs is a job, not a program. I tried to explain that he can't get or hold a job given his present state of addiction. He thinks other people won't notice. As we talked, I felt the old lesson come back. It is time to back off and stop trying so hard to control something over which I have no control. I could probably talk him into going to the assessment interview. But as soon as his addiction is confronted in the program he will be out of there. I'm pretty sure that this little dream of things getting better for my son and grandson is not going to happen in this way.

Letting go is hard, but not as hard as it used to be. Part of the difference is my maturity, a euphemism for aging. But also some of the difference is a benefit of my spiritual practice, especially silent meditation. Sitting in meditation, and continually letting go of thoughts as they arise is good practice for letting go in real life. Maybe that's why they call it "practice". Letting go of my plan to help seems easier than it used to be. I still have an ache in my heart, still a glimmer of hope that something good may come of this. But I am very clear that what I need to do now is to "let go, and let God" as they say in Twelve-Step teachings.

I came upon some appropriate words of wisdom in a little book that I have been reading over the last few weeks. Notes From the Song of Life by Tolbert McCarroll is a book of thirty short lessons. These lessons are meant to be read and contemplated one a day for a month. A few days ago the lesson was entitled "Detachment". So I went back today to reread it. Sure enough, the shoe fits:

To detach from your preoccupations is to have faith in the life process and to know that you are a part of it. Through detachment you do not forsake people and your environment. Detachment is a means of connecting with them at a deeper level. For it is not people or things that distract you, but your desires. It is from these desires that you must learn to detach.
Desires are like demons. There are many demons, each with his own name and characteristics. Some are called respectability, security, superiority, control, recognition, stubbornness; all creatures from the hell of self-centeredness. These are the demons that separate you from people and life.

When I go for my visit to Minnesota next week I trust that there will be one less demon separating me from my son, my grandson and our life together for that time. All the problems will still be there. But I will try to be there too. That may be the best gift I can give them both.