Character Matters

Oh golly I thought this blog was long long gone. Seems everything lasts forever on the internet. Interestingly I am still a career gal and still a mom wantabee, but I should have clarified that statement long ago. I am a mom and have been a mom since long before this blog started. I just sometimes, as in always, feel the immeasurable pull between wanting to be a full time mom and wanting a successful career. Somehow career always won out. That's a long story. Since this blog began I have changed my job four times, changed my career trajectory once. The trajectory was a good move. The job changes, weren't comfortable in the moment, but I have always made the best of each situation I have been in. My last job change was the first one of my life that was not determined by me. It is heartbreaking as I loved that job. I am trying to convince myself that I am capable of looking on the bright side, as I always have. I'm going to be the person my kids can be proud of and I'm going to be the person that I can be proud of. Character matters. Alcoholic #1 and #2 updates. #2's dip into alcohol seems to have been very short lived, and I wouldn't even consider it a factor in their lives today what-so-ever. He would deny the moment ever happened I'm certain. #1 hm, well I think the rehab worked the third time for alcohol. However, I don't trust that person with anything. And I never will, sadly. Let's say I'm over him. ----- That marriage that I always alluded to? hehehehe. That's gone too! and oh so gratefully. Insert wildly happy dance here.:) Things are really looking up, my kids are great, my new spouse is a joy each and every moment I get to spend with him, and my career, while surviving the recent little blip, is actually something I'm very proud of. I need to remind myself to look longer term at my life. Character matters.

Alcoholic #1 - has led to Alcoholic #2

Here is an article to ponder from CNN. When I read this article I am not thinking about my own family, and then my own family sneaks up, in the words, and the meaning. The child alcoholic (#1 alcoholic with OTHER problems) has so disappointed the parent (Alcoholic #2), that the parent is now thinking "How did I get here". To that I say: The child, alcoholic #1 was an adult when he made his choices on his own character. The parenting I recieved, and this other bone-head recieved was fabulous. The parenting was spot-on. I love you for that. There was guidance, and warmth, and love, and respect. There were opportunities, and learning, and quiet wonder. There was everything any kid ever needed to grow up healthy and whole. There was time, there was food, there was respect. Alcoholic #2, if I could tell you, and someday I hope I can hear me: You did nothing to create his present and his future. You are not deserving of this low life as a son. I am sorry, and I wish I could have changed the past. You however, have the chance to change the future for yourself, and continue to be the great role model I need and my kids need. Please let go of the bottle. Throw them all away. I love you. Here is the CNN article:


Editor's note: Joshua Coleman is co-chairman of the Council on Contemporary Families and a psychologist specializing in parent-adult child relationships. His most recent book is "When Parents Hurt: Compassionate Strategies When You and Your Grown Child Don't Get Along."

(CNN) -- What if he were your kid? You wouldn't raise that kind of kid. You'd know the signs and get help. You'd have spotted it early on and gotten help for him right away. You would've seen the warnings and acted before it became the national tragedy that it did. Good parents don't raise those kinds of kids.

But, what if you're a good parent and you didn't see the signs and you did raise that kind of kid, or at least some kid like that?

You knew something was wrong, but you didn't know what to do. So you told yourself, it's a phase. Lots of kids these days talk about death, have pictures of skulls, watch violent video games, take drugs and write things that they call poetry; it's not like any poetry you'd ever read, but what do you know? You're not a shrink. Maybe it will get better.

You're not the Loughners, your kid hasn't been accused of killing anyone, but something's wrong with your kid and you don't know what it is and you're scared. You don't have a lot of money or you just lost your insurance, so you took your son to the county hospital because lately, he's been so angry all the time that you don't know what's wrong with him.

And the psychiatrist at the county ER tells you that he's schizophrenic and should be on anti-psychotic medication and they'd like to keep him for two weeks on an involuntary hold.

So they keep him for two weeks on an involuntary hold, but because of the cutbacks in county mental health services, there's no place to refer him when the hold expires, except back to you. And now that he's on medication, he's much calmer and no longer seems to be a threat to others. Crisis averted. Thank God for modern psychiatry.

Except that he doesn't like the way the anti-psychotic drugs make him feel, so he goes off of them. And soon he's back to posting angry, disturbing diatribes that don't make a lot of sense, and this time, he refuses to go back to the hospital because he doesn't want to be locked up.

So now you're worried all over again. You know that you could call the police and they would come pick him up and take him back, but he's still mad at you for hospitalizing him the first time; you can only imagine how angry he'll be if he's hauled back there in handcuffs.

But he ends up in handcuffs anyway, not because he's accused of murdering someone, but because of drugs, or theft, or some other crime. And you're almost relieved because the terrible end that you thought was coming has finally come.

But maybe your kid doesn't end up in jail, but ends up living on the streets because he refuses to take your help -- anyone's help -- and now you don't even know where he lives. He stopped calling a long time ago when he figured you weren't going to keep giving him money, and he refuses to talk to anyone else in the family, even his brother, whom he was once close to.

And you'd like to get support for how heartbroken and guilt-ridden you feel, but you don't know where to get it because everyone assumes that you must have done something terribly wrong to have produced a kid who has such serious problems, or who wants nothing to do with you.

And no one believes that more than you, his mother or father, even though a meek voice of protest rises up inside you to try to unsuccessfully challenge the far more powerful accusing voice.

And watching the evening news, you recognize that while you're not the parent of a murderer, you feel an affinity for those parents far stronger than the parents of your friends with grandchildren, and children in college, or weddings to plan.

You know, like they know, that for all the lousy parents in the world, good people can still create children who do terrible things, or whose lives turn out in ways they never imagined, not in their worst nightmares.

And the image of that father the morning of the shootings, asking him what was in that black bag, knowing his son well enough to know that something was wrong, reminds you of all the signs you ignored or acted on, but apparently not well enough because now, look how things have turned out for you and your kid, your baby.

And no matter how many times you tell yourself it wasn't your fault, and however secure you are in that knowledge, it never buys you more than the briefest moment of comfort before you're back to blaming yourself and wondering, "How could I let this happen to my own child? What kind of a parent am I?"

The opinions expressed in this commentary are solely those of Joshua Coleman.

Called home - now what

I called home. I spoke to one of the people that live there. It was only 8:30 at night. It was a weekday. ANDDDD.... the person on the other end was obviously drunk. Hmmmm. This is very unsettling. I live far from these folks, and I really don't know what is going on, but now I feel obligated to confront him. I know other people have confronted him, and I have danced around the subject with him. But really, my disappointment is cavernous. It is epic.

This is the guy, all my standards are based on. He once told me a story of a friend that was dying of alcoholism. He was astonished at the callousness of the family members, and came to realize that they had been so very burned. He was warning me of this fate. Why then has this fate overtaken him? I am sad.

Dear Lord, please help this man I love. Amen.

Ok. Now what. I have more alcoholic family members, than I did when I "started" this blog. I state that, as if I had some effect on them with my words. BUT of course I don't really. I still have a husband. We'll leave it at that. And still have a lot to say.

Today I am grateful for the day. I'll not worry about tomorrow.

What the hell am I doing here. I heard that blogging is not good for those that what security classification from the government, and I heard that blogging is not good for getting a job. Bloggin tells your employer and your boss too much. It also probably tells your husband or significant other too much. I don't want to be found, and I don't want to lose out on job opportunities, but I have so much to say, and nobody to say it too. I guess I have worn out my friends on my (choose your favorite) boring job, cheuvanist husband, low pay, no pay, spoiled kids, rotten kids, alcoholic family members, and monster dog. I'm sure there is more, but I forget them. These are the big things that I worry about.