Christmas Dinner

Christmas Dinner I left my son’s father in the fall of 94. I left him in Austin and went to Houston for a much better job, and I took our son. The reasons I left him are numerous, and I know he has his arguments (not even saying they don’t have some merit) about me. I do think I can say something we would both agree on, though, which is that I believe in recovery and he does not. I don’t want certain mind altering things as part of my daily life. Also, truly, I needed that job. It’s hard to believe that my salary at my first teaching job, to which I commuted an hour each way WITH a toddler, was 17,000 a year. Yes, that’s right. Seventeen. But it was. That job I took in Houston was an exponential jump in salary as well as benefits, career growth, etc. Our family needed it. So, I left. I loved it. I loved my job, having my own place, raising my son, making new colleagues who are still friends, making new recovery friends, being closer to other family, including mom. It’s an interesting thing to realize that just because someone is homeless doesn’t mean they don’t have a home. My mom lived somewhere. She lived in Houston. That Christmas, I invited Mom over for Christmas dinner. I really thought I was being gracious. I mean, she needed food and a place to be, right? And I could provide that. Now, I am ashamed of my arrogance. I made the works, all rich foods. You know, par for the course for a southern Christmas dinner. What was I thinking? I really must have been in denial to a certain degree myself, at that point. Mom was sicker than a dog. I know now that she was the gracious one. I did know that in her current state I couldn’t let her live with me and my son. Her unpredictable violence, blackouts, and overall drunkenness as well as other decisions she made were quite literally dangerous for my small boy to live with. At the same time, she was my mom, my family, and there was no graciousness or generosity in loving on her in every way possible. I made the works, all rich foods. You know, par for the course for a southern Christmas dinner. What was I thinking? I really must have been in denial to a certain degree myself, at that point. Mom was sicker than a dog. I know now that she was the gracious one. Funny that I was disappointed that she smelled of alcohol when she got there. Oh – at that point she still had a car to reside in. I didn’t even think about the fact that she probably could have used some gas money, and that even that would be humiliating for her. Mom barely toughed her food. I had thought she would love it, need it, gobble it up! But she couldn’t, I now know. The latter stages of alcoholism, including cirrhosis were literally eating her alive. She excused herself and went to the restroom. Her retches were quite audible through the door. I doubt she kept anything down. Me? I was annoyed. Only in restrospect did I get it that she was violently ill, not just a little too much drinking for the evening which is what I thoguht at the time. Maybe it’s what I hoped. Maybe it was too hard to realize the cold truth at the moment. In any case, Mom came to visit me and Zachary. I’m certain that she gave all that she had to be able to do that. She got herself together, spent much needed money on gas, drove, ate food she couldn’t handle, and didn’t make a big deal of being wretchedly ill. That is gracious. That was the last Christmas dinner we had together.

Open Eyes

Sometimes people need to believe something so badly that, even though their perspective is skewed, they will defend their own twisted belief so vehemently that they will hurt others who call them out on their twisted perception. And sometimes just the fact that someone else has another viewpoint about a situation is enough for them to feel threatened. Sometimes people feel justified in hurting that person who calls out their faulty belief. They feel justified because they think that the fact that the other person has weaknesses and faults strengthens their own position. Sometimes they even feel justified in attacking the person who sees their skewed vision because of this. I think it's important to consider the source - all of it. And if someone has made great strides or has delved into an area and learned much about it, even if they aren't perfect, they should be given credit for what they have come to know. Of course I'm speaking of myself, here. I know that the things I share in this memoir raise awareness and help some to feel healing. I also know that it causes some to build sandbags around their levies of disbelief, and to resent me, or to have a skewed perception of me such as to think of me as stuck or even to pity me. That's o.k. I have done the same thing when I needed to in my life. I could not be where I was not. As the popular saying goes, when the student is ready the teacher appears. The fact that I have made many mistakes in my life and continue to have multiple flaws, does not erase the fact that I have learned to see many things clearly. I have learned even to overcome some flaws. I also pray that if I am not seeing clearly, that God helps me to do so. It's been nine years since my mom passed away. I have a wonderful life. I laugh loudly and often, tell raunchy jokes, cuss sometimes, pray all the time, sing daily, read voraciously, practice yoga, teach kiddos, work well with colleagues, eat healthily, don't drink or smoke. I am open to new ideas and experiences, willing to take risks, dedicated to having fun, and am hopelessly devoted to my friends. I believe that my mom had a disease called alcoholism. I believe that everyone in my family played a part, some more than others, and some are still running from the truth. I did not get here on my own and couldn't have. I have a relentless pursuit of support and recovery, thank God. I have found it for years and have devoted myself to it. It has wholly changed me. One of my high school friends and I spent some time together after not seeing each other for over twenty years. He had not known that my mom had passed away, but had remembered how much I struggled with our relationship and how angry I had been at Mom in high school. At one point he said to me, "The thing that is so remarkable to me is that you have no anger toward your mom anymore." And I don't.