Is This That Little Boy at Play?

A big chunk of time has past since I wrote in this blog, at least with any degree of consistency. I had intended that it be some sort of journal; a chronology of my life, with all the profoundly moving stories of my wacky world. While it started out that way, it quickly became more of a collage, little snapshots of the journey thrown onto this cyber-canvass with the hope that someday the reader of my "journal" is able to put all those pieces together and arrive at a mental image of me.

Today's "snapshot" is that old familiar stirring in my gut, the one that comes up when overwhelm begins to feel too, well...overwhelming. That's when I know it's time to do one of two things: either retreat inward and shut down for a while or sit my ass down and write.

So here goes...

My baby boy is graduating from high school in just a few days, and, I'm an absolute mess. I am very happy for him, for sure; as well as bursting with so much pride I can hardly contain it. I am also, however, feeling sad. In fact, I can't talk much about it without tearing up. Alone, and alone with my thoughts, and I'm a sobbing, snotty-faced nut-case.

Why is his upcoming graduation effecting me this way? With Cody and Hillary, each of whom went about this phase of their education in unique ways that best suited their individual styles, I certainly experienced a range of emotions that went from pride to worry about this or that and then back to pride again. With Alec, it's different. There is something about his graduating that has me asking myself what the hell is going on.

Maybe it's just empty nest syndrome. Could it be that thoughts of seeing Alec pack up and move away from us leaves an empty space in my paternal paradigm? I think I remember hearing my parents talk about something like that when I left the proverbial nest.(Actually, given my adolescent collisions with the law and worsening alcoholic behaviors, it's likely they wished I had left much sooner than I did.)

Or, is it just worry. God knows my mother taught me  how to worry! I mean, seriously, he's not mature enough to go away to college and make the decisions and bear the responsibilities that go with such a move. Is he? Isn't he still that little boy at play? Isn't he still that beautifully shy boy who required a little push when it came to talking with people he didn't know or being the new kid at a new school or trying something with the slightest hint of celery? Isn't he still that boy who I thought would stay close to his parents for a very long time, until he was really ready to step out on his own, I mean, 5 or 10 years from now kind of ready? Where did that kid go? In what feels like and instant,  Alec the boy is gone, and, reality is: I do worry about him, but not much more than I do the other two. Alec is maturing very nicely into a responsible young man, very capable of managing the challenges that lie ahead for him, and/or, gathering the resources he needs to figure it all out. Moreover, he's gifted with copious amounts of  talent, emotional-intelligence and wisdom for his age. (Those are just the facts...not the boasting of a proud dad.)

My heart tells me it's not that; that it's not about my son at all; not even a little bit.. Alec, I think, represents something to me. I think he stands out in the caverns of  my psyche as the last chance to get it right. Drug addiction is an isolating illness. It's ability to progress through its' usual course generally comes at the expense--at least to some degree--of relationships between the addict and those around him. So how is the relationship between Alec and me? How has my addiction effected his ability to feel close to me as his father? How have my attempts at recovery improved on my abilities to draw him closer in as my son, rather than keep keep him at arms length because of shame and guild? Apparently, despite any kicking and screaming on my part, now is when these questions are begging to be asked.

I used to think that, because I'm an addict, I am automatically a bad parent; At best, little more than an ineffective presence, always sort of looking into their lives, wanting in--desperately wanting in--but feeling separated by the consequences of my choices. Now I'm realizing the "cross of shame" that fostered separation was something I, after having been indoctrinated into the false belief that addiction is a moral issue, chose to drag along with me. The truth is: addiction is a medical issue, a disease, and is completely separate from my morality, or that of any other person or religion or society. The acceptance of that fact has allowed for a degree of  self-forgiveness that is long overdue. So...why the sadness?

Here's why: my relationship with Alec, while certainly not worlds away from where I'd like it, as in years past, is not where I want it. Frankly, I have not been honest enough with him about my drug use, in recent months, to allow an authentic deepening of our relationship to happen. (Alec is no dumb-bunny! He knows I've been using more than that for which I've been accountable.)  I have put far too much effort into maintaining the appearance of the "appropriate" parent, to allow the real me to be consistently present.  Now, to some degree, I feel stuck in that superficial limbo sort of energy that sits like the awkward silence between strangers just getting acquainted. And that's not what I want! Damn it! I want authenticity. I want a stronger closeness between my son and me. I want Alec to trust me and look to me for at least some answers to the questions life will be presenting at this important juncture. I want to be more than just the cumulative  example of decisions I hope he does not make; more than just the do as I say, not as I do kind of parent!

Deep breath...

So, what the fuck am I going to do about it? That's not a question I can answer right now. More about that later I'm sure. I do want to thank my son for holding up for me the mirror I really needed to see. Thank you Alec, for showing up me in complete perfection and for showing me how I can better show up for you.  I am so proud of you, son. I love you with all my heart and I am honored and grateful for the opportunity to be your dad.

Congratulations my dear boy!


(There better be lots of facial tissues available at this graduation...that's all I can say! Perhaps I'll just shove a roll of toilet paper down my pants before going in.)