Category: family

Understanding Sobriety: Not All Drinkers Are Alcoholics

Today will be my 58th day of sobriety. I can honestly say that my life has been a nonstop improvement since I decided to pursue a healthier lifestyle. And let’s make no mistake about it, being healthier is why I did it.
Why make a point of contention about that? you may ask.
Because I’m weary of people telling me that I’m not an alcoholic.

So many people have been supportive of my decision, but there has been some confusion. Some have suggested that I overreacted by joining AA. They thought I didn’t belong there. They believed it was for people in much poorer condition than myself.
They were correct.
I like AA. I believe it is a wonderful program that has helped millions of people worldwide. But it’s not for everyone. As a Recovery Case Manager, I toed the company line. We were a 12-step program, and I worked them with my clients. Despite many ideological disagreements. I disagreed with relinquishing all control to a higher power. While there is merit to the concept, I believe that we are allowed to be pleased with ourselves. We should acknowledge our own part in getting sober. I don’t believe that only God played a role in motivating us to seek help. We also had our own part in bettering ourselves.
I don’t believe that all addiction stems from significant trauma. Nor do I believe that we need to seek the forgiveness of everyone and everything. There are major events that require reckoning, but most of it is just better left in the past. If you have wronged someone and have the ability to make it right, have at it. Otherwise move on. I know this is a controversial opinion and it’s not intended to come off as harsh as it sounds.
Additionally, while members hate to hear this and will get VERY indignant when they do, some of us are different. You’ll hear it at all beginner’s meetings; if you are there, then you are the same as all of them. In fact, we are not all the same. I will not tumble down a wormhole of depravity if I have one drink. Many in the room would. I don’t need to go to 7 meetings a week to stay vigilant. I can do it on my own.
I don’t need to do the steps. I have few resentments and I have made peace with everyone I have hurt (that I know of) already. Many would be furious at that statement, but it’s correct.
Does my assertion that I am different make me an outsider? Or does it just mean that maybe I’m not an alcoholic? See, there is no room in AA for the person who simply likes to drink. There are a lot of those, myself included. I have a problem with alcohol, but I’m not an alcoholic.

So here I am, 58 days later, and I am benefiting from all of the blessings of sobriety. I feel better. I am making great strides in my physical fitness. I have mental clarity. Most importantly, I don’t beat myself up constantly over my drinking. The self-loathing and feelings of inadequacy are over.

I don’t even know if I want to be completely sober for the rest of my life. There will be an opportunity or occasion that arises in which a drink will be warranted. During this time, having a drink will be appropriate and even fun. Or I will say no with confidence and pleasure because I like what saying no has done for me. In the meantime I will continue to go to the occasional meeting. The people are nice, the atmosphere is uplifting, and it is good for the soul.

But I still struggle with calling myself an alcoholic. I think I’m actually just a guy who liked to drink. I found the resolve to recognize that it was just getting old.

Embrace Your Uniqueness: A Journey of Self-Discovery

I was recently asked what my last blog post would be. I had to think about it of course. I decided to write it as if I was actually well-adjusted at the time of my demise. That makes this an exercise in Creative Writing. Here goes.

Be yourself. No matter what. Then embrace it. 

That is what my final blog post would say. 

I cannot tell you how many blogs I have written about finding and understanding myself and what I stand for. I have always struggled with matters of identity. I could go on for days about my findings on this matter. Suffice to say, I showed up at the party way too late.

I’m glad I got here. However, I surely wasted an irretrievable amount of time, effort, angst, and agony in the process. I told the President of my HS reunion committee something several years ago. This was when I was asked for a quote for the newsletter. I said, “I searched high and low, far and wide for who I am. Only to realize that I was me all along.” 

I never thought I was enough. Or the right thing. Or in the right place. I don’t know why, nothing in my childhood explains it. Nobody has ever told me that I’m not good enough except me. It’s as if I placed other people’s expectations of me without their offer or permission. I think I tried to be who and what people wanted or expected. Sometimes different personas for different people or groups. 

I was big and intimidating. So I acted it. But I’m not tough nor do I want to intimidate. That didn’t work.

I was charming (to a degree) so I acted the part of Ladies Man and Playa. But I like and respect women, I didn’t even like hookups.

I was a decent artist. So I tried to emanate artsy and liberal. Turns out I’m a casual artist and I am not wired to take mushrooms and sing Kumbaya around a campfire.

I could go on. Suffice it to say that despite having varied interests and strengths, not a single one of them defines me. They are merely components of me. The day I realized that was a great day indeed. 

As much as I can parrot the tired line, “I don’t care what people think about me” I do. But not in the conventional sense. 

It matters to me that people know who I am and what I stand for. It matters to me that people know that I am a good person. Sure I want to be liked, but I have recognized that respect or appreciation is what I truly desire. 

I have found that the answer is in the company you keep. Your friends will not only understand your uniqueness. The organizations you attend meetings and events at will also appreciate it. The people you spend time with will too. They will know your quirks and pecadillos.  They will know who you really are and what you stand for.

I am the chocolate box in Forrest Gump’s lap. I come in many shapes and forms. They’re all good in their own way. If some of my pieces don’t do it for you, then leave them and enjoy another. I’m me and you never know what me you’re going to get.

Having made that bizarre statement, the overall point is my recommendation to everyone to just be yourself. If you’re not surrounding yourself with people who appreciate the particular magic you bring to the table…well then find a new circle.

Finding Peace of Mind: My Journey Through Anxiety

Peace of mind has largely escaped me for most of my life. I have dealt with undiagnosed anxiety for a very long time. My particular form of anxiety forbids peace of mind. Of course, I can only speak for myself. The particulars of my anxiety are omnipresent and maddening. 

This makes it confusing why I never sought help with these behaviors. I now know they have severely impacted the decisions I’ve made. Their consequent outcomes are another effect I understand now. While I can’t blame anything in particular, I feel those behaviors robbed me of something. I always feel there’s something else I should be doing. I feel I should be anywhere but where I am. I constantly question and review in my head every conversation and interaction I have. I check to see if I did or said something wrong. I worry about every fucking thing that would never even happen. There is no peace of mind in that.

Then the bottom fell out, so to speak. I lost everything in six months. It was a long period of rebuilding. The only positive aspect was that my life was now about just me. I focused on my ability to survive and rebuild. As part of rebuilding, I needed to tackle my mental health.

I started by being honest with myself. Brutally honest. I gave it legitimacy by creating a blog. It became quite successful. Readers appreciated my story for its brutal honesty. They valued the unflinching analysis of what I was, where I had been, and where I was going. The most notable transformation made through my writing was that I lost much of my anger. I forgave those who didn’t deserve it. I stopped waiting for apologies that weren’t coming. I became accountable for my part in things. I didn’t forgive for the sake of anyone else, I did it for me.

Physically I am well now, but it wasn’t an easy journey. Mentally, I still struggle with my anxiety. I have taken steps to address it. I started by simplifying my lifestyle. I avoid that which causes me stress. I engage in charity. I try to only associate with good people. I am always honest in my interactions. I do my best to be in harmony with the universe and the people in my own little universe. I live an accountable life that allows me to sleep at night.

In the process, I finally found things about myself that I like and I learned what makes me happy. I engage in those things with energy and integrity and wouldn’t you know…I have some peace of mind. In particular, I care less about whether people like me, because I like me.

Finally.

Top Life Lessons I’ve Learned

The subject of lessons learned in life came up the other day. I felt inspired to compose a list of some of the most important life lessons that I have learned. Oh, there are so many. And I’m sure I’m not done learning more. Still, it was interesting timing as I am now evaluating almost everything in my life in the interest of self-improvement.

I have learned to be nice always. Some people are barely hanging on and it’s better to be decent to people. Do so until you can’t or the deserving of such treatment fades. We can’t always fix people but we can take comfort if we at least try to help them.

I have learned that it’s not always necessary to be right. Knowing you are and keeping it to yourself is better than trying to prove it.

When reacting to situations, take a deep breath. Act on your second instinct if you must. Words hurt and impressions matter. As the Stoics say, it’s not what happens, it’s how you react to it.

I have learned that it’s true about the fool. Better to be silent and thought a fool than speak and confirm it. On that topic, ears don’t work when jaws are moving. 

I’ve learned to forgive without resolution and to not wait for apologies that aren’t coming. Resentment is like drinking poison and hoping the other person dies. 

If you aren’t invited, don’t go. Nobody should be treated as an afterthought. There was a time when I would allow myself to do this, but I have learned my worth since.

Listen to my gut. It is always right. I remember situations that went south. Relationships that failed are also clear in my mind. I can vividly recall disregarding a stern warning from my gut. I am now keenly aware of my inner voice and plan to follow it.

Finally, as experience has taught me, I need to talk less. While I come from a gregarious and friendly place, I overshare and generally say too much. Maybe it stems from insecurity or trying too hard to make someone like me. Regardless, I’m not engaging in either of those ever again. From now on, my focus will be to listen more and talk less.

I have learned to accept my appearance. I have terrible body issues. I look ok for a person whose body has gone through what mine has. I need to accept that I have limitations to how “fit” I can be. I need to focus on doing what I can and being consistent. I can’t continue to dive behind sofas every time someone points a camera at me. I am depriving the people who care about me of a potential memory. Because one day all that will remain of me are pictures.

There are so many more, but there isn’t enough bandwidth to accommodate all of it.

Embrace Your True Self: Words of Wisdom

“A person who doesn’t know what the universe is, doesn’t know where they are. A person who doesn’t understand their purpose in life doesn’t understand who they are or what the universe is. A person who doesn’t know any of these things doesn’t know why they are here. So what to make of people who seek or avoid the praise of those who have no knowledge of where and who they are?”
Marcus Aurelius

“A man who stands for nothing will fall for anything.”
Malcolm X

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, 8.52

I recently saw a question on another post. “If this was the last thing you would write, what words of wisdom would you share?”

That’s easy. Be yourself. No matter what. Then embrace it. 

I can’t tell you how many blogs I have written about finding and understanding myself and what I stand for. I have always struggled with matters of identity. I can talk endlessly about my findings on this matter. Still, suffice to say that I showed up at the party way too late.

I’m glad I got here. Still, I wasted an irretrievable amount of time, effort, angst, and agony in the process. Several years ago, the President of my HS reunion committee asked me for a quote for the newsletter. I gave her this, “I searched long, far and wide for who I am. Only to realize that I was me all along.”

As I said it I realized how prescient my statement really was. When I thought about it, I never thought I was enough. Or the right thing. Or in the right place. I don’t know why, nothing in my childhood explains it. Nobody has ever told me that I’m not good enough except for me. It’s as if I placed other people’s expectations on me without their offer or permission. I think I tried to be who and what people wanted or expected. Sometimes different personas for different people or groups. 

I was big and intimidating. So I acted it. But I’m not tough nor do I want to intimidate. That didn’t work.
I was charming (to a degree) so I acted the part of Ladies Man and Playa. But I like and respect women, I didn’t even like hookups.
I was a decent artist. So I tried to emanate artsy and liberal. Turns out I’m a casual artist and I am not wired to take mushrooms and sing Kumbaya around a campfire.

I could go on. Suffice it to say that despite having varied interests and strengths, not a single one of them defines me. They are merely components of me. The day I realized that was a great day indeed. 

As much as I can parrot the tired line, “I don’t care what people think about me” I do. But not in the conventional sense. 

It matters to me that people know who I am and what I stand for. It matters to me that people know that I am a good person. Sure I want to be liked, but I have recognized that respect or appreciation is what I truly want. 

I have found that the answer is in the company you keep. Your friends will not only understand you, they will accept you. The organizations where you attend meetings and events will appreciate your uniqueness. The people you spend time with will also value who you are. They will know your quirks and peccadillo’s.  They will know who you really are and what you stand for.

I am the chocolate box in Forrest Gump’s lap. I come in many shapes and forms. They’re all good in their own way. If some of my pieces don’t do it for you, then leave them. If one leaves a bad taste in your mouth, enjoy another. I’m me and you never know what me you’re going to get. Even I can’t tell you that. What I can tell you is that under my awkward demeanor is a man of powerful convictions. A man with a sense of justice. A man with empathy. A man who would do anything in his power to end the suffering of another. A man that not only believes in right and wrong but lives by it as well. I’m not special, but I am not without purpose.

Therefore, if my last recorded word was to be one of advice…just be yourself. Know what drives you and live it. Believe in something so strongly that you would die for it. Then surround yourself with people who appreciate your unique magic. If they don’t, then find a new circle.

Traits of Lonely People: A Personal Reflection

I previously discussed the topic of loneliness. I started it by recalling a conversation I once had with a friend. He had mentioned that the ability to go out to restaurants and bars alone is rare. That is to say, without caring about the impression of being lonely. He further went on to say that it indicates security, confidence, and self-awareness. Now, I do have a well-documented penchant for self-awareness. I do know exactly what and who I am.
But I am not confident or secure. I ended the blog by stating that I am not lonely, I am merely good at being alone.
As it often happens with me, inexplicably, I then came across an article online that addressed my issue du jour. The article was about the traits of lonely people.

Despite my insistence that I not lonely I perused the article. It’s a bad habit of mine, to read articles that are likely clickbait and fluff. These articles list symptoms of disorders. Gullible readers then try to plug their own traits in to see if they fit. If I may skip ahead, this one fit.
The traits, according to the author, of a lonely person are as follows:

Struggle with vulnerability.
Oh, hell yes. I don’t just enjoy my own company. I choose to be alone as opposed to opening myself up to getting hurt again. I may take the leap again in romance. Still, it will take a lot to trust once more.

Overanalyze social situations.
I want to be liked, accepted, welcomed, appreciated and missed when I’m not around. Unfortunately, that would need that I engage socially. You can easily recognize, through earlier posts, that I have an active social life. I do indeed. But the amount of effort expended while later analyzing (overthinking) every goddamn word, facial expression and conversation is exhausting. My acute anxiety causes me to be concerned about making social mistakes. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy. I worry about making verbal gaffes or saying an inappropriate comment so intensely that I inevitably commit one. Not always but frequently enough. This is anything but confident and secure. It can lead to my not wanting to go out amongst people.

Highly sensitive.
I have had the word “sensitive” applied to me far too often. Not unjustified at all. I am sensitive. I experience things powerfully. I take things seriously. I care deeply. I have thin skin. I can look you in the face and tell you that I don’t care what people think of me. But I do. Quite a lot. Not for superficial reasons, I care about the impression I leave on people. But I have been told to “lighten up” more than I care to admit.

Don’t believe they are worthy of love.
I do grapple with this. I question whether my turn has passed. I wonder if I have the qualities to be a worthy partner. Further, I debate if I bring anything to the table. Am I active enough? Do I have enough money? Do I have annoying habits? Long story short, am I datable? Finally, do I deserve another chance at love? This is often debated in the halls of my mind.

Insist on doing things alone.
Yes and no. I have always been self-reliant. Except for mechanical tasks, which I suck at, I don’t ask for help. I hate asking anyone for anything for fear of “putting them out.” Also, I hate criticism. I’m getting better at distinguishing between negative and constructive criticism. I am not proud of my lack of ability to fix things. I choose to not reveal it if possible. I’m not sure this is a sign of loneliness.

Active imaginations.
If an active imagination is a trait of lonely people, maybe I’m not. My mind shows imagination actively in limited ways. Often it is limited to imagining why someone doesn’t like me. This is anxiety and it sucks. I hope I can get control over that trait someday. It is crippling and will continue to hold me back in life.

Over Apologizing.
Over-apologizing is a trait of a neurotic or insecure person. I do not believe it has anything to do with loneliness. That’s not to say that I don’t do it. I do it because I’m a neurotic and anxious person. I can be so in a room full of trusted friends as well as while alone. I know in my heart that an apology should be sincere and a one-off. Over-apologizing is seeking forgiveness (if it is pending) to make you one feel better. I am getting better at avoiding it. It’s part of accountability and acceptance of situations.

Self-deprecating sense of humor.
This has nothing to do with being alone. It has everything to do with being comfortable in your own skin. There is nothing more damaging than saying terrible things to yourself about you. Your mind can’t distinguish the difference. I am guilty of doing this. I have for years. The reasons are obvious, I am not comfortable in my own skin. But I don’t lack self-esteem. A person who has little to no self-esteem that makes self-deprecating comments is very uncomfortable in their own skin. That may be the reason they are alone and/or lonely.

In conclusion, there is some meat to this article. But a good amount of these traits are suffered by all types of people, not just lonely ones. Taken in its entirety, I am a bit surprised at how many of the above do apply to me.



Is Loneliness a Choice? A Personal Reflection

I’ll never forget when my friend Steve said it.
“You can go to a restaurant by yourself, sit and drink or eat alone. It doesn’t bother you at all. That’s a rare thing, you know. I sure can’t do it.”
He has never given me the impression that there’s anything he can’t do. The guy was a Army Ranger and won’t sit in a restaurant alone? I told him that I had never given it much thought.
He further went on to say that it indicates security, confidence, and self-awareness. Things that I have rarely been accused of and traits that he has an abundance of. I asked him why he wouldn’t do it. His reply was that he didn’t like to appear lonely.

Lonely. Many aspects of my life can easily suggest that I am lonely. I live alone. I haven’t had a relationship lasting more than 4 months in almost 8 years. I do indeed go into establishments and bars alone, where I can occupy myself for hours. But I don’t feel lonely.
Well, that’s not entirely true. I occasionally lament the fact that I don’t have the company of a woman. But that’s another conversation.

I am very comfortable being alone. In fact I often enjoy it. As my social anxiety increases and my energy level diminishes, home is my favorite place. I like to cook, read, putter, watch movies and write. Sadly, much time for those activities was lost as my drinking and weed habit surged of late. Now that I am attempting sobriety I am doing more of those activities.

But I’m not lonely. I have a vast network to reach out to. I could probably arrange a breakfast or lunch with a friend every day of the week. I enjoy people. To an extent. Then I retreat to my Fortress of Solitude, my tiny apartment.

It has occurred to me that this is largely semantic. Does loneliness mean that one has no-one in their life? Does it mean that you don’t have friends or family to talk to or spend time with? Or does it mean that you need a partner? If it’s the latter, then yea I may be.

By choosing to remove myself from the dating scene entirely I didn’t make a choice to be lonely. I made a choice to be alone. I’ll admit it, I’m not too proud or macho to say it, I don’t want to get hurt anymore. I can tell you a very convincing argument about how I’m ok with it. But the hole in my heart has caused a hole in my life. I liked being married, if not to the person I married. I enjoyed having someone with me to share life with. I wish I had someone to spend time with. Not every day, maybe one day a week. To have dinner, make dinner, go out to a movie or something. To see where it goes. I genuinely crave female companionship. Not just sexually. Yes I like it but I value connection above all. I like women.

But I have decided to not make any active measures to meet anyone. I am leaving it to chance. Hopefully someone I can meet face to face. Online Dating is just miserable. It’s exactly like trying to make puzzle pieces fit. It’s forced and I won’t play that game anymore. Until I meet someone I want to be with, it’s just me. I choose who I spend my time with.

I am not lonely, I am just good at being alone. I’m alone because, despite my desire for intimacy, my sense of self-preservation will always take over. And it is definitely not a decision.

Facing Family

I revealed a very poorly kept secret to my family this week. It was not received as anticipated.

My oldest boy was surprised. Despite it being a poorly kept secret, he didn’t see it coming.
My youngest daughter was straight-up glad to hear it but not surprised. She had an idea of the secret.
My oldest daughter was surprised. But she also had an idea of the secret.
My ex-wife didn’t react at all as I thought she would. She knew more about the poorly kept secret than anyone.
My youngest boy was not surprised. He was glad but didn’t say much. When I asked him why, he said he figured I would tell him more when I was ready. I was ready at that point but he missed the cue.

I can’t believe that most of my family didn’t understand the extent to which I am an alcoholic.

My oldest boy didn’t think that I drank as much as I did. This is the kid who used to bring me multiple beers throughout the night and jokingly call them “water bottles”.
My youngest daughter suspected but was very happy that I admitted it.
My oldest daughter, who I see the least, had seen me at my worst as a child. She didn’t know I was still struggling.
My ex-wife simply said “I figured. I just hope that you’ll get healthy one day.
My youngest son, we did talk later, thought I had it under control. Barely. He figured that one day I would just stop.
My youngest son, the no-nonsense “call it like it is” one said, “Good. Now what are you going to do about it?”

I told him this. I also told the others. I am now in AA and have been attending 1-2 meetings a day.

It’s time to stop procrastinating. I need to fix the one thing standing between me and the man I want to be.

Reminiscin’

I was recently asked what was my favorite memory of my Father. One immediately

I will just start by saying my Dad was a god to me when I was young. Unfortunately, I feel that I worshiped at arm’s length. Later in life, I would understand the small gap of air between us. What I thought was reserved was actually his “Dad Hat”. My Dad was determined to be a good father. Committed to give me a good childhood and to make sure I had enough of everything. 

Because he had a lousy childhood and was given nothing, he was ending the cycle. 

What I refer to as reserved was just him trying too hard. I wish he had learned to just be himself around me. He eventually would, and when he did all was good. We enjoyed a very nice relationship in his later years. Nevertheless, Parkinson’s reduced him to a shell of his former self. He died in 2013.

I connected with my Dad through common interests. I made myself interested in things to spend time with him. When he was working on the house, I would hang with him and help out whenever possible. When he was under the hood of the car, I poked mine in as well to see what he was doing. When he watched Sports, I sat with him. I ingratiated myself to get close to him. And I’m so very glad that I did because my love of cars and sports came from him.

But what I love most from my father’s influence is my passion for motorcycles.

My Dad rode motorcycles as far back as I can remember. Motorcycles have an obvious allure. Aesthetically, the sleek styling, shiny chrome, and loud pipes appeal to the senses. The idea of them and what they represent excited the hell out of me. Freedom, danger, independence and (let’s face it) a badass vibe came to mind. That excitement has yet to wear off, but it is rivaled by the sight of my Dad pulling up the driveway on his bike when I was young.

It was agonizing on so many levels as I waited to be deemed old enough to ride on the back. When that day finally came, I was jumping out of my skin with excitement. I can still remember putting the helmet on and watching as dad made sure it was fastened properly. I remember the pre-ride speech about staying still and not making any sudden movements that may throw his balance. I vividly remember as we rolled down the driveway for the first time.

I wasn’t scared. I trusted my father to the moon and back. We went to our favorite place in Salem, MA. We ate pizza and Ice Cream as we watched the people scuttle about. It was a magic day and the place became our place after that day.

The only memory greater than that, my absolute favorite of all, involves the day I met up with my Dad. I was on my own bike to embark on our first ride together. We went to our place in Salem, MA, our place, and ate pizza and Ice Cream. This time, it wasn’t just the destination that mattered but the journey there and back. 

That is how I like to remember my Father. When I bought my first Harley after he had passed on. As I fired her up for the first time, I looked to the Sky and wondered if Dad was proud of me.

The Evolving Role of a Dad at Christmas

It’s Christmas Eve and I am very excited about spending time with my family tonight. With my children now grown adults, the dynamic of the Holiday has transformed greatly. Permanently etched in my mind are the Christmases of old. It was always a huge ordeal at my house when I was a kid. My parents loved Christmas and were very generous. My Dad was so dedicated to my mother that he truly could not stop getting her gifts. Sadly, I think it was insecurity masked by generosity but it was certainly based on his love for her. The exchange of gifts was borderline excessive. But I was always provided for and I enjoyed the Christmas holiday.
I enjoyed it less and less as I got older. I began to see it for the rampant and crass commercialism that it was. When the kids were young, I enjoyed it through them. As they got older, I smiled and acted happy. Holidays would become a major stressor for my wife, and consequently on me and I soured on most all of them. But I suppose that is a story for another day.

I did enjoy Christmas Eve. Christmas Eve was always a great night at my house as a kid and remains a fond memory. The house was full of family and friends imbibing in drinks and snacking on holiday treats. It was a zero pressure evening, the gifts were already wrapped, the toys were assembled, there was nothing to do but enjoy the calm before the storm.

Christmas now consists of a party on Christmas Eve, and everyone goes their separate ways on Christmas Day. I love this transition. It reminds me of the old days. But it is much to my ex’s chagrin that hosting duties have been passed on to the kids. She wants to still do it. I think she misses the Holidays when the kids were young. I suppose it’s a natural reaction to aging.

My oldest daughter has hosted for the last few years. It is such a great time. I look ahead to it all year. The kids, their spouses, and significant others gather. A smattering of family friends and new in-laws join for drinks, a nice meal, and then games.
I missed it last year. I had COVID. I was miserably sick and depressed about missing it.
This year, my oldest boy and his Fiance welcomed us all to their nice new apartment. Just reading his texts and emails are warming to my heart, they are so excited to host us all.

This is a small chapter in the “How to be a parent to adult kids” manual. My role of the father has evolved. While my children would disagree with this, I would argue that my children don’t “need” me anymore. It’s not that I don’t have a role, it’s that I’m not depended on by them anymore. This is troublesome for me because that is something that I miss in both my personal and professional life. I was always an integral part of things. Now, I have a support role.
To put a positive spin on this, it is a victory of sorts to be in this situation. During the days of family turmoil, there was a lot of arguing and resentment. I often worried that my children would resent us. I feared they would not have need for us once they were on their own. I now believe that we made the repairs in time. By acknowledging that fear and being proactive about repairing those fractured relationships.
My role now is to be there when they need me, otherwise to sit back and beam with sheer pride at how magnificent they all really are. It’s not about taking credit, it’s just gratitude that it all worked out.

I am so excited about tonight. Still, I harbor a fair amount of sadness. My youngest daughter and my ex are still not speaking. As a result, my daughter will miss yet another family event. This I hate, so many magical moments have happened recently; a wedding, engagement, the birth of a beautiful little baby…she’s missed them all. I can’t say if she is bothered by it but I sure am.

It’s difficult to enjoy a holiday while missing someone. I miss having her around. I need harmony in my life. I guess you can’t always get what you want.