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.
