Remember Bob and his baby steps? Baby steps to the elevator, baby steps to four o’clock…
So apparently I’m taking baby steps on the road to recovery. I mean, sure, at times they’re steps that the tiniest little micro-baby in the world would take but…I feel the trend, in general, is upward.
In general.
I’m hovering between steps 2 and 3 on my 12-step journey. They’re related, and since these are THE GOD (AS YOU UNDERSTAND GOD) steps…yeah, I’m spinning my wheels a bit. Officially, we have:
1. I’ve come to believe that a power greater than me can restore me to sanity.
and
2. I’ve made a decision to turn my life and will over to the care of God as I understand God.
As far as God/religion/spiritual stuff is concerned, those of you who’ve read my stuff before know that on a good day I’m a seeker of sorts, intrigued by rituals and spiritual matters…on a bad day, I’m one of those doubters who just can’t quite let go of the idea of God (mainly ‘cause I’m scared of the lightning if I do). So where does that leave me on the staircase of codependency recovery?
This morning as I was meditating (which means sitting on Stephen’s bed since he migrates to the couch every night, sleepily drinking my coffee and scribbling in my journal) I came to the conclusion that I can confidently say that I DO believe in a “power greater than me.” As simplistic (naïve?) as it looks when I write it out – I believe in the transforming power of unconditional love. Is it possible to love in that way as humans? Well, probably not, but it’s a noble goal toward which to work. Anyway…how that belief ties in with my idea of God is still a bit murky, but as I’ve mentioned before, the few transcendent experiences I’ve had (mostly involving nature/landscapes/outdoors) combined with this idea about love as a powerful force is going to have to do for now. Don’t try to pin me down because I can’t get any more specific than that. (Defensive much?)
So with one foot on step 2 and the other on step 3, right now I’m pretending the steps are really an escalator, and I’m cruising along, moving upward but also staying where I am, for the moment, whilst things settle in and become a bit more…comprehensible. Loving as unconditionally as possible seems like a great place to start – and what’s more, the first person who is benefitting from this notion is ME. I’m also trying to love those around me without conditions – no expectations, no projecting of my teen self onto my teenaged son – and it really is freeing in a way. Love them as they are, and that includes yours truly. No false hopes, no unrealistic goals, and (this is vital) no condemnation for failure to be perfect.
Whew. That one hits me where I live.
Looking at #3 through my custom filter, I see “turning my life over” in this way: it brings to mind the admission from step 1 that some things (and all people) are out of my control. To some extent, what is, is. While the way we live our lives may influence people or events, ultimately, sometimes things are going to happen. We have the choice to either have a big old freak out (holding up the mirror now), or, try to breathe, get perspective, and make the best choices we can to deal with what comes, hoping that choosing a higher path will (eventually?) lead to a higher place. [How this fits in with evil things that happen to innocent children, why some people beat cancer and some don’t, why bad things happen to good people is not clear at this time, and I doubt it ever will be. Which frustrates the hell out of me.]
As I’ve come to look at this blog as a confessional of sorts, right away I’ve got to admit that last night I pretty much embodied the exact opposite of the serene, Zen being I’m espousing in the prior paragraph. After a long day in the office, pushing papers around as I try to feel some sort of meaning, I was a bit blah. A nice supper, a couple of eps of M*A*S*H, and a hot bath (during which Stephen popped in and entertained himself and me with a Blue’s Clues songfest in the mirror) later I was feeling a bit more like myself.
Then it was bedtime. I try to time Stephen’s pull-up changes so that it’s just time for a fresh one as we do our bedtime routine. This time I missed the window, and walked in to find that he had leaked onto his bedspread and top sheet. Clever gal that I am, I just whipped those two things off the bed, grabbed a nearby comforter to replace them, and patted myself on the back for being so resourceful. Stephen continued watching YouTube on his iPad, and we finished the bedtime routine. But he kept squealing in a way that only Stephen can – he grasps his hands in front of him and squeals. LOUDLY. Sometimes he gets cranky like that when he’s tired and will eventually calm down…
I went back to the living room hoping to hear the sudden silence that means he’s given up fighting and gone to sleep…only he didn’t. I finally went back in, saw he’d thrown the comforter in the floor, and somehow surmised that he was unhappy without his tucked-in sheet and bedspread. So, what to do at 10 p.m. when you can’t do laundry fast enough to fix the problem? You grab the Glade Fresh Linen spray, spritz the sheet and bedspread, and go on with your life. Sorry, folks, that’s life with autism. You spray, and go on. Putting the covers to rights helped, but still…there was squealing.
I went back to my chair, trying to relax…yet every time he let loose another cry, my muscles twitched and it felt like an electric shock. My mind ramped up…What do I do now? What next?
Then, it came to me. I knew exactly what I needed to do.
Nothing. It was out of my control at that point. I had helped him in the only ways I could, I had hugged him, loved him, and I had to let it go. I forced myself to relax, to stop anticipating his squeals, to know that it really was going to be okay. I realized, maybe for the first time, I REALLY realized that, while a few times things really have gotten difficult (stomach viruses, 3 hour tantrums, etc.) most of the time things really DO turn out okay… Well, okay in a kid-with-serious-autism kind of way.
When I finally laid my weary head on the pillow, I felt the weight of the struggle – not only the struggle to get Stephen calm, but the fight I’m waging both for and against my self. I fell asleep almost instantly and slept soundly. I’m fighting to let go, to use my energy in increasingly positive ways, to strive for a higher place – and finally, I can see that the benefits of the effort are worthwhile, and I deserve no less.
6 comments:
Just a thought on the "higher power" aspect of this, from someone who would not mind being considered an atheist. I have spent a lot of time thinking about the idea of a higher power, first by way of AA, then through my mother. She never pushed religion on me, but she did make a few concerted attempts to ensure that I believed in a higher power. She willingly conceded that she wasn't exactly sure what she meant by this, but she was sure it was important.
I am fervently against the Judeo-Christian concept of God. I find it repugnant. But I think it is reasonable to think of the "higher power" as something completely different. There are two pieces to this. The first is the sense that the world/God/whatever is much bigger than you. I think this is likely the transcendent outdoors experience you describe. That is where I experience it most directly as well, though I also get it when studying scientific things, esp. evolutionary biology or physics. Floating in vastness, and being part of it.
That is the "higher" part. It is the "power" part that is tricky. Personally, I am not at all interested in a human-like quasi-omnipotent creator, but I'm not really into a more exalted, more reasonably perfect creature either. I guess I think it is just sort of silly to try to nail down the nature of the world. Haven't we already established that we are but a tiny part of whatever this is?
So yes, there is "higher power." For me, the comfort comes not from labeling it and enforcing sense of it, but simply from recognizing it.
P.S. Thanks for sharing.
I appreciate what you're going through as I've been there and done that already. If I didn't, I would have probably taken extreme measures that ended very, very badly. As in like, just lose it and drive the entire family into the nearest body of water. Scary, but I'm serious.
Things that used to make me crazy I have learned to just accept and ignore it as best I can. This list includes, but is not limited to:
- Tantrums. And tantrums. Did I mention tantrums?
- Repetitive, gutteral "UH UH UH" and other fun sounds
- Savage table manners
- Unwillingness to even try to help himself in personal hygiene
- The oh so pleasant smearing of feces when he's REALLY frustrated
- The meltdown when we drive past an In-N-Out without stopping for the fries
- The meltdown when we drive a different way to school
- Destruction of every bed he's had
- The anger of replacing thousands of dollars of broken/damaged electronics, DVDs, CDs, etc over the years
- The water damage in every bathroom
- The backseat of my car (might just write about that one over on Autism Blogger)
- Sleepless nights
- ......... and so it goes
You get the picture by now, I'm sure! I finally just gave up a few years ago and started picking the most important battles, most all of which concern his general health, safety, and education. I had to let A LOT of my expectations of life go; I will never have beautifully decorated bathrooms sans peeling baseboards, I will never have a dining area that doesn't look like a war zone, I will never have a decent night's sleep, etc.
The good news, though, is that as soon as I started giving certain things NO ATTENTION at all, like the tantrums, they subside significantly. However, the inverse is true of the table manners; if I turn my head for one minute he drops his utensil and uses his hands. Gotta be on him like a hawk on that one.
Thank you for sharing your journey as I can very much relate and it sounds to me like you have had a gradual slide into what was, for me, an acute slap in the face. But I'm like that, lol. I'll ignore things for so long then something snaps and I get all manic about it. For me, I suddenly realized what my life was going to be and never looked back, even though I do complain about it from time to time. Okay, often :)
I wouldn't have the patience to "work the steps" but I applaud you for doing so and love reading about your experiences.
I wish you the best of success in your endeavor and look forward to your next entry.
Jason...thanks for taking the time to respond so thoughtfully. I really understand and appreciate what you're saying - and shall ponder it further.
Karen...honey, you DO understand, don't you? I haven't made a good effort to get over to the autism blogger site yet, but I promise I will, and look forward to interacting more. Thanks as always for the support and solidarity.
I love you. That's all. Just wanted you to know I'm still reading and still thinking of you!
Just thought I'd share one of *those* days when I seriously thought men in white coats should show up to take us all away to a sensory deprivation tank ...
http://autism-blog.com/vicious-cycle
I hope my humor translates, not only here on your blog, but in anything else of mine you might read. I've had some tightly wound people lash out and accuse me of being insensitive to my son's needs. Most of them all have "normal" kids.
Somehow I'm not surprised!
Karen...I read your story, and of course I understand how you feel.
I can't remember my Autism Blogger password (can you imagine?) but as soon as I get that sorted I will post over there.
My heart goes out to you, and to all moms who might not "celebrate" the same way tomorrow. I myself feel very bittersweet.
Post a Comment