Life is Jenga . . .

The past 12 months have been a bit stressful. New job at a new school, new classes, new colleagues, the day-to-day life struggle of my oldest son, his arrival back in Texas, his almost immediate arrest and 4 months in Tarrant Co. Jail, his release and almost immediate arrest again, now in Denton Co. Jail awaiting a few years in prison, my father's death in November, etc. Then school got out and I thought, "Ok, the year went well, I don't have to worry as much about Ethan's potential death, Asa is good and now going to be a senior. Ok. I can relax now." I was wrong. Nothing else bad happened, it just all hit. The last year, the last 8 years, the last 14 years, it all hit.

In June, I was in Salt Lake City reading AP exams and got altitude sickness. The shortness of breath threw me into an anxiety spin. I've never experienced this before, at least not that I've actually identified. I was afraid I was having another heart attack. I was afraid to go to sleep because I couldn't breathe. I was afraid. Long story short, it was time to get my head back straight with a little help from anti-depressants again.

So, I was telling this story to a friend the other day and the best analogy I could come up with was playing Jenga. We all start out like that firm, sturdy block tower at the beginning of the game. When you first begin to remove and replace the pieces, most people will remove a piece from somewhere in the middle. You choose one that isn't going to dramatically shift the balance because if the tower becomes too unbalanced, it will fall down. So, you very carefully remove a block, place it on the top, and hold your breath for a minute in hopes that the tower remains upright. Whew! Ok, a shift, but still standing. All players continue this routine of removing a piece and placing it on the top of the tower. Each time, there's a little more fear that the tower will fall, which is fine, as long as it's someone else's turn. Lol. In thinking of this analogy, those first, easy to remove blocks are the normal slings and arrows of life which we face every day. They can knock the balance a little, but not enough to knock us all the way over. However, there comes a time in the Jenga game where it's harder to find a piece to remove and when we do find one, it leaves a bigger gap and when placed on top of the tower, the tower sways just a little more. There is still a core of strength, but that strength has been stretched to a height which makes it much more unsound. The problems, the bigger ones are now disintegrating the stability. Yet, still standing, just harder. Eventually, there is no choice but to start pulling blocks from the bottom of the tower. This is the riskiest stage of the game. Every slight finger tap and movement can send it falling. As we go through life, we take hit after hit, problem after problem, sadness after sadness, each time chipping away at the strength of our tower. We get through, we keep going, we don't topple until those bottom pieces bring it all down. Finally, one too many blocks are pulled, and the tower falls. 

In June, my tower had one too many pieces moved and it fell. We all hit that point at times. We all have our gaps of strength and they're all relative. What is a big empty gap for me is someone else's easily moved piece and vice versa. What is important though is what you do with that toppled tower. Just as in the Jenga game itself, you set the tower back up, carefully replacing the pieces, and rebuild the sturdy tower. Then you start playing again. Isn't that life? That center core is the key and if you have a strong one, you can stretch farther, but eventually, the core needs repair. The tower needs a reset. Don't ever just leave your pieces on the floor. If they fall, stack them back up and keep going. Life is Jenga.

A Cautionary Tale . . . .

This is a cautionary tale about raising a child . . . . .

When Ethan was born, it was the most amazing thing to look into his eyes, those "old soul" eyes. I was in love and mesmerized. I saw in him none of the trouble I went through having him; all of that didn't matter anymore. I had the perfect little boy, the child I had always dreamed of. He was an only child for the first four years and it was so much fun watching him grow. He was busy, creative, smart, and had an enormous heart. In many ways, it was just the two of us and we were very bonded. My heart melted even more when I saw the love and attention he gave his little brother when he arrived. This little guy just brought me joy.

Fast forward to age 14. The boys and I had been through some things, divorce, financial struggle, moving across the country, etc., but there was so much potential for our futures. New path, new road, new life,  . . . . and then it all fell apart. As parents, we like to think we know what's going on in the lives of our children, especially the big things. The truth is, there are many things we never know anything about and that are kept well hidden intentionally. Think about it though, most of us had some serious things going on that our parents didn't have a clue about either. What Ethan had hidden though was HUGE! It was all bigger and crazier than I could have ever dreamed up and I was clueless. I was so clueless that it had been going on for two years and I totally missed it. I chalked things up to adolescent male emotions. I just didn't see. If you have known me through the last 8 years, you know most of the story. I've been open and honest about the ugliness of dealing with and loving a child who is a drug addict. I've done it because what happened to Ethan, my beautiful child, can happen in similar ways to anyone. Addiction is the plague of our time, but it has helped me to think I could help any other parent by being open and honest. You already know that though. 

The thing is that sometimes, especially in the last year, some things have just been so ugly that it gets harder to share. Every disappointment and fall is harder to share with everyone who has loved and supported us along the way. Everyone was so happy to see the beautiful picture of Ethan and Asa after Ethan's most recent four months in jail. It was a wonderful few hours with us all together, something I hadn't had in years, and I treasure it. I thought just maybe he was on the right path this time. How many times have I said that in the last 8 years? Too many, but this time . . . .  I knew 3 years of probation was going to be a monumental task for him, but . . . . 

. . . . I expected more than two weeks. Two damn weeks. The first week was good, but I saw him quickly losing focus with all the distractions of a phone, social media, girls, etc. It went so much faster than I expected, and then he was shooting meth again. That was it. Once he used, there was going to be no stopping until he was forced to, and even though part of him rationally got the fact that he was violating probation and that meant back to jail, the switch had already flipped. Because he used, he had to leave where he was staying and there was nowhere else for him to go. There were meth rages on the phone, through Messenger, and even showing up at my house in the middle of the night in a rage that was pretty damn scary. It just all went bad, really bad. He ended up with someone he met that first time he went to juvenile detention at the age of 14. He did things he knew he didn't want to do but did anyway. He knew he couldn't stop . . . . and then he was stopped. He is now safely back in jail, but there's more than just the probation violation now. He's added charges of burglary of a habitation and (this is one that I have the hardest time with) attempted robbery. Fortunately he didn't have a gun when he went into the convenience store, otherwise, this would be a very different scenario. However, I keep thinking of the fear the poor store clerk must have felt when he passed her his note. He took off when a customer came in and didn't get anything. He said he was actually relieved that it was all over. Instead of a few months for a probation violation, there is now no way around doing years.

Who knows how many at this point. It could be a year before he is done with court in both Denton and Tarrant counties, and then we'll find out how many years. So, my beautiful, loving son is going to prison. I hesitated to put this picture here because it is so hard to see, but I find myself looking at it a lot, just letting it sink in. That is my son.

I was relieved when he was arrested because I was no longer waiting for the phone call to say he was dead. But, his life is forever changed in a new way. On one level, I ironically gain freedom while he is locked up. I know there can maybe be a few years of the level part of this damn roller coaster we've been riding. It's not like he can't get drugs in jail or get into trouble, but it's going to be less likely. We will all settle into the new norm. He will hopefully do his time the right way, and if he does, maybe he'll get another chance. Asa will no longer have to worry about his brother showing up and causing chaos and won't feel like he has to protect me. By the time Ethan is out again, Asa will be graduated and on to the next part of his life. I will accept what has become of the son I still love deeply and dearly, just as much as the first day I looked in his eyes, because I know there is so much more to him still. I will also try to ply my way out of the corner I've been shrinking into in the last couple of years as it's all gotten harder and harder. Life goes on and I'll still have hope that it can one day be different. 

Probation

Sitting in the courtroom this morning waiting for Ethan's case to be heard . . . I had flashbacks to all of the hearings back when he was in juvenile detention. It has always amazed me how unlike the TV courtrooms an actual courtroom can be. On the other side of the bar, it is like a busy beehive. Court officials, 20-30 lawyers coming and going, papers being printed and signed, deals being made, and frightened defendants waiting to learn their fate. It's busy and noisy and chaotic.

The first person up is sentenced to 15 years in prison. All I could hear was something about forgery and theft. The next one up got probation, first offence. Next, 2 years, next 5 years. I was having a hard time reading the judge but he spent time talking with each of them, the DUI case, the drug offence, the assault case, etc. He was thoughtful, but I couldn't get any impression of how he might rule on Ethan.

Two hours later, it was finally Ethan's turn. As he came in, I marveled at how good he looks now that he's not on drugs anymore. He's taller, has gained weight, his coloring is good, and his eyes are no longer blank and sad. He's respectful, standing up straight. He looks more humble than pissed off at the world. The judge asks him about his guilty plea and he confirms. The judge asks him how long he's been using drugs and Ethan answers, "8 years, your honor." The judge looks at Ethan's information and responds, questioning the fact that he's only 21 and been using drugs for 8 years. It's still hard to see him in court, before a judge, and facing the things he's done. The judge says that the plea agreement is for 3 years probation, and he asks, "Son, can you do 3 years probation?" That's the million dollar question, isn't it?

So, 3 years probation. If he violates probation, he will get 2-10 years. He will also have to deal with Denton County on those warrants from 2 years ago. They have 10 days to come get him before he's released from Tarrant County, but if they don't come get him, he is committed to turning himself in and taking care of that for a few months if needed. That should just be a matter of sitting time because they weren't felony charges like this one. This is the biggie.

As I've told people what the verdict was today, the question has repeatedly been, "How do you feel about it?" Well . . . . ambivalent. I'm ambivalent. Every time he gets another chance to do it right, I get hopeful, cautiously hopeful. However, we all know the history of those chances. What I can say about each of those times though is that with each one, he was a little older and a little more mature. This time especially, he's even better though. For the first time in 8 years, he's made it 90 days clean!! He is no longer self-medicated or over medicated. He's on one medication for seizures, and that's it. He's discovered he's not bipolar or any of the other million things every place has diagnosed him with and then put him on multiple high dosed medications. I've always argued that he needed to get off of everything to be properly diagnosed, but that's not the way such places work, even when he was in juvie for those years. Anyway . . . . as his mother, I always want to believe that there's another chance and that it'll work. I can't get myself to wish for prison, even if it sometimes seemed like the best thing. But, I'm also scared of him not being able to do the probation. I told him the other night that the even though it's been through glass or over the phone, the last few months with him have been the best in years. He's been the REAL Ethan, and I'm scared of losing that, but I don't want him to go to prison, but I'm scared, but I'm happy, but I'm scared, but I don't want him to go to prison . . . . . hence, ambivalent. I keep randomly crying and I don't know if it's because of the relief or the fear, or maybe it's just the exhaustion of this 8 year battle we've been fighting, a release at the idea that maybe this time this nightmare will end . . . . or fear.

So, here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to think optimistically (even if always a little cautiously) and pray that THIS is the time it all works. The reality is that I'll have that fear for the rest of my life because that's addiction. It will never go away and is a part of us now. But, I'm praying that he continues to grow and that he will learn how to have the life I know he wants and I want for him, as every mother wants for her child. The consequences this time are bigger, and he's aware. So I'll be watching and supporting him, and as always, hoping for the best and loving him.

Thoughts on my 2016. . . . .

So, here we are at the end of another year. It's the time when we look back and examine our lives, at least the last year. I'm always conflicted by this process though. For the last several years I've been so happy to see the year end in hopes that the next would be better, but on the flip-side, I hate the fact that I'm having to put another year behind me. I'd like to have some of those years back, thank you very much. It's weird when you know there are more years behind than ahead.

Anyway, I can't say that I'm sorry to leave 2016 behind me. It started with sadness, ended with sadness, and had a whole lot of sadness in between. It's been a sad year. We all know that there have been quite a few deeply felt celebrity passings this year, but I can honestly say that starting off the year with the loss of David Bowie really hurt. I think for people my age, it's been hard to lose those who have been such a staple in our lives, and it reminds of our own mortality. Wait, so-and-so was only X number of years older than me? What? It's like our youth and illusions about our age are pulled out from under us, the band-aid is quickly and painfully ripped off. After Bowie died, I played nothing but my Bowie collection on my iPod until I went through all of it. It took exactly a month. In the process, I said silent thank yous for all of the memories the music brought me. Of all those celebrity passings, aside from Bowie, Gene Wilder and John Glenn hit me the hardest. Gene Wilder is such a part of my youth, and I NEVER tire of watching Young Frankenstein or Willy Wonka ( or Blazing Saddles, or . . . ) And then John Glenn, well, a life-long hero who was priceless to me in many ways. I'm glad I lived in John Glenn land (aka New Concor, OH) for so many years and that I had the enormous pleasure of meeting him on several occasions. All my dreams of space were tied up in him from such an early age. However, he did teach me that if he can go to space at the age of 77, I still have time to get up there, and I will.

2016 also continued to have its share of sadness in relation to Ethan. We saw some of the darkest times yet. So many young lives cut short by addiction, and I felt each alongside him both by knowing these sweet souls and by watching Ethan hurt. At the same time, always wondering how HE managed to survive. There is a certain survivor's guilt that plays here as I've come to know these parents who have lost their precious children. The last few months with his longest near death overdose, the loss of Kindle, of Alison, and his eventual arrest and time in jail have been harder than I can explain. But here he is, in jail, but alive. He has turned some corners in the last couple of months and I pray constantly that he will be able to stay on new paths. I pray, I love him, and I keep faith.

This was also a year of ugliness. We saw one of the most disgusting election cycles ever, certainly of my lifetime. The whole thing, all of it, was a terrible example of what we're capable of in the ugliest ways. We are so much better than we showed ourselves to be. We also saw ugliness through many examples of violence: Orlando, France, Dallas, Baton Rouge, etc. We can be such horrible creatures sometimes, but then out of such tragedies, we also saw some great love. I wish the great love stayed around longer. We have got to stop being offended by everything though! If we ever want to see brighter days, we have to learn how to listen to differences without taking offense, without belittling, without confrontation, without yelling, without seeing everything as right or wrong, and without the horrible habit of insult which has plagued our society.

2016 was a year of change. I spent the first part of the year more miserable than ever at work. I called or emailed the lawyers at TCTA (teacher's "union") at least once a week. I seriously contemplated leaving teaching altogether. Some were convincing me that I was no longer good at it and didn't have much to offer anymore. I'm sad to say that I let them convince me of it. But then I decided to give it one more effort, and it worked. I found a new job, got away from the toxicity, and spent the last half of the year feeling like maybe I still have some to offer. It's been a good change! Other changes include a new car, Asa getting his driver's license, and Ethan turning 21. Change is a challenge sometimes, but these were good changes and worth the challenge.

I'm trying really hard to bring something positive in here so it isn't just an endless stream of downers, but it's a struggle for me. I will readily admit that I'm pretty deeply depressed these days. The biggest blow to my already fragile heart this year was the loss of my father a week before Thanksgiving. I'm not sad for him because he's fine now. I'm wallowing in my own sadness. It's been too much this year, I think, and with each hit I've retreated a little farther into a corner of isolation. My corner has become very small and very far away. I've kept to myself more, which is unusual for me in some ways. I tire of the pity others sometimes feel for me, even if it really is genuine sympathy. I'm tired of feeling like the only things I have to say are sad, so I don't say much at all. I don't want to get into the dark place in which I'm currently residing, but I won't leave you on that sad note. In the end, I know this period is temporary. I will somehow manage to pull myself out of it, but it's a deeper hole so it might take a little longer. In the meantime, as I hang my new calendar for 2017, I will look at it as a new start, as I always do. Things will change, I'll get glimmers of hope and renewed faith. Maybe I'll get back to New Orleans for a recharging since it's been well over a year now. I'll force myself to do some things differently, to go on some new adventures, even if it's something as exciting as driving to Lincoln, NE last March just because that would cap off my list of visiting all of the 48 contiguous states. I'll think of something. I'll make an effort to get out more, to find some joy again. I'll work on focusing on the positives. I'll try to do all those things, and mostly, I'll have hope that 2017 is going to be a better year for me, for my family and friends, and for this world.