Laughter and Mental Health

     I  just got back from a much-needed trip. Like typical Americans, my son and I didn't rest by a pool, but crammed as much as we could into the week we could. There was too much to see, to much to absorb to sit around relaxing. I can read a book and lounge on the couch anytime. (okay not by a pool in a tropical setting, but you get my drift) . And you know what? It was restful. We were satisfied and relaxed every day. We slept great.
    There is something to be said to seeing new and beautiful sights. The change of scenery alone gets your adrenaline going and beauty is healthful. Stimulating your senses give you new outlook on things.
    It doesn't hurt if you have a host like I did, who took a week off to ensure I got to all the stuff on my exhaustive itinerary and provide adult companionship along the way. He provided a safe place to explore a new place. And laughter! Let's not discount the medicinal qualities of laughter. Why is that you laugh harder, get sillier, with people who knew you as a kid?
     Len is my cousin and someone I haven't seen for 15 years and haven't spent a good block of time since we were very little. But Len and I have that rare relationship of picking up where we left off. Or rather, starting all over, but from a base of really knowing the other person.
    How can that be? How can somebody who hasn't talked to seen much of you or even know the most basic fundamentals of your life really know you? I think it's just that early on, we knew that essence that made us, well, us. Regardless of what Len does for a living, who he's in love with, whatever habits he has picked up--he's still Lenny. And I am still Chrissy regardless of what my mood  or situation happens to be or what strategy I'm deploying to tackle my challenges.
    Travel isn't practical for many people, I know. Some, like me, have financial challenges or family obligations. But I think its imperative to strive to get those three fundamentals that make a vacation, a vacation incorporated into your life  somehow: a change of scenery; beauty  and laughter.
    You don't have to go to southern California for a beauty and a change of scenery. You can go to a local art museum or gallery. Or walk through a park that's new to you. I know for some people who complain that they work so much they just want to spend time at home. I understand, but every now and then it's important to get out of our comfort zones and gain a new perspective by experiencing someplace new and different. Without that we become stale.
    I don't have to go across the country to laugh of course. But it was a learning experience.  My son kept asking Len and I to tell him stories about our times together as a kid. At first I thought he was interested in family history and then it occurred to me that he enjoyed hearing me laugh. And I sadly realized that I don't laugh much at home. I enjoy things deeply, I smile with him a lot and joke around. But that deep, sincere belly laugh is rare to me, and a rare sound to him. I have a lot of challenges, I know. But I can't use that as an excuse, I can't say, "there's nothing to laugh about." 
    So that is my quest  for this spring; to lighten up and see the absurdity and humor in situations. Like how I'm assigning myself laughter. Now that's funny.

Happy Valentine's Day

    I spent my entire adult life -- with very little break -- as part of a couple before my divorce. My ex-husband and I have lived happily apart as a new couple;  happily together as an unmarried couple; happily together as a childless married couple and happily together as a new little family. The last few years were spent living unhappily as a married couple with a child and unhappily apart as separated married people raising a child. Now we are divorced, living apart --happily for me -- and raising our young son together.
    In light how much time I spent as a twosome and how new I am to singledom, I have realized how strange my feelings towards coupledom have become. Am I envious? Surprisingly not. Though I do feel a twinge every now and then when I see an ad for an intimate restaurant or a romantic vacation experience. Though we all know that that stuff  is special-occassion romance which although important to a relationship,  has very little to do with work-a-day marriage.
    What I find rather funny is my bewilderment.  I find it perplexing that two people find each other in the first place and want to spend enough time together that they choose to actually live together. How do they do that?  Why do they want to? I ask.  And have to remind myself that I did that once too. I am amazed that it  actually works sometimes.  I am happy for friends who find it. I love seeing couples who love and support each other's interests and goals.  I am embarrassed for those who find it -- or think they have found it -- and give up stuff for it.
    Maybe it's an age thing as we all become more ourselves are we get older. Maybe falling in love and being part of a couple is for those whose lives and habits are still malleable enough to meld together. And of course, those oldsters that stay together have already sorted everything out and welded two lives so that nothing can pry them apart. Whatever it is, falling in love and staying together is a miracle and one that should be celebrated.
    So for Valentine's Day I wish  all my happily married or happily in love friends some great high-maintenance romance-- you deserve it after the work you have put in to make it work. Have the lobster, stay at the nice hotel and drink an extra glass of champagne for me!

A mother's anger

Of all the emotions, anger is surely the most dangerous. Not only because of how much damage it can wreak left unchecked and unrestrained, but also because sometimes it masks another emotion that is too hard to face. Like fear. Or despair.
    While using anger to mask other emotions tends to be a masculine prediliction -- and I have first-hand knowledge of this from my son who seems to coincidentally get in trouble at school for fighting when he has heavy things happening in his life -- this is something I do as well.
    It is a lot easier to get angry than to admit that I am overwhelmed with fear. It is lot easier to stamp my feet and curse than admit devastating sadness and cry myself to sleep. While I have done both--admitted I was overwhelmingly frightened and cried myself to sleep-- I often resort to anger. It is a defense, I know. But it feels more empowering than sadness or fear.
    But I also know if I'm not  identifying the right emotion, it can sneak up on me  and come out sideways. That anger I am  expressing can become uncontrolled. I become unreasonable. I have resorted to violence in my anger-twisted justification of dealing with the alcohol-altered person I married.
    So, knowing this about myself, I know I need to deal with the real emotion behind the mask. Even if it hurts, even if it too hard.
    My ex is in Rehab. This is a good news, even if this is not his first time to the rodeo. While I pray that this time is sustainable, I am keeping in mind the old adage of "hoping for the best and preparing for the worst." I am keeping my expectations in check. I remember how disappointing it is when sobriety is hard-gained and then lost in a flash.
    I've examined my emotions from all sides and here is the deal: I am angry. Period. It is not sadness or anything else. It is out and out pissed-off spit and vinegar anger.
    I am angry for what he has put our son through. I am angry that my son at the tender age of nine, whose biggest worries should be whether there are enough batteries for his Star Wars light sabers, is worried instead on whether or not his father will be sober for good.  I'm  pissed that our son has had to learn so early that people you love desperately can also be untrustworthy. That a person whose job it is to care for you can be unreliable and neglectful. That he lashes out in school when the worry gets too much. I'm furious that it is taking a team of counselors and family members to make sure he knows that he's safe and loved and help him navigate his emotions.
    Maybe I'll move on from this anger, but that is where I am right now and sometimes anger is the appropriate emotion. I know it is a disease. I know! I know my ex isn't choosing to hurt our son. I know! I know his guilt has got to be overwhelming. I know all this and perhaps in the near future I can even bring myself to feel compassion.
    But, first and foremost, I am a mother, dammit! Like all mothers I want the best for my child and I want to protect him from harm. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned? nuh uh. Hell hath no fury like a Mother whose child is hurting.

Fun with an Alcoholic...Not

Einstein once said insanity is doing the some thing repeatedly but expecting different results. So maybe I'm insane, but what I think what happens with me  when I'm dealing with active alcoholism is  this: what I think I'm capable of in the quiet serenity of my peaceful home is different when actually faced with it head on.
    My ex had been sober for weeks. All through the holidays. This is reason to rejoice. When he is sober, he is reasonable and agreeable and our conversations are on point about child care. My son spent ample time with him over the holidays and by all accounts and my conversations with him, our son was  comfortable, cheerful and agreeable. He really enjoyed this special time with his Daddy.  I really want my son to have a close relationship with his dad, and sobriety is a key ingredient to its success.
    So our son had one of those extra days off school that hang at the end of a long holiday like leftover tinsel and I wasn't sure what to do with him as I had to go back to work. He had bounced around a lot during the holidays between relatives, and  although it was joyful time for him, he was settling into his home routine and I was loathe to pack him up for yet another sleep over. So I asked his dad if it was okay if came over in the morning and stayed with our son. Yes, it was, but he needed gas money. Okay, deal.
    He was there on time and sober. We went over meal plans and I was on my way. He called an hour later and informed me a pipe  burst in the basement and we dealt with having a plumber come out.  He was helpful with that and still sober, though rather stressed after the incident.
    A few hours pass and then the call comes, and I know. He's drinking. Did he find the brandy I used for eggnog? Did he bring a bottle? Did he run to the store and buy one with the gas money I gave him? He's talking about how the plumber told him the pipe bursting was due to my overloading the washing machine though I shouldn't question the plumber on this because he would be offended and not be my plumber any longer. He is not making sense and my stomach is in knots, though I try very hard to remain patient. When he drinks, even a small amount, his initial euphoria takes the form of lying to somehow boost himself to some important position.
    I manage to extricate myself from the overloaded washer/burst pipe conspiracy conversation. A little while later I call home to gauge whether I need to come home early, but my son is happy watching a movie and had eaten lunch so I make the call to continue the day as planned instead of risk a scene by  interrupting the day. My son confesses to me his irritation with his daddy though, which is another sure sign of alcohol consumption as he is a little barometer. His Daddy is not "acting normal" when he drinks.
     When I get home my ex is in the basement, telling me he cleaned up (it looked no different than when I left) and that he got me a good price on the plumber, etc. --again with the posturing. I tell him thank you, and doesn't he have appointments? Well, the appointments are rescheduled, he has things to talk about. He is not making much sense. He comes upstairs and its obvious he doesn't want to leave. He talks about a checklist he and our son had for what needed to get done today. He must mention this checklist 20 times, which drives both of us crazy and my son starts to backtalk. I'm telling my son not to be rude, in the meantime thinking to myself, what the hell?
    He needs to leave. How do I get him to leave? I thank him again. He wants to stay. I'm the love of his life, he says.  I will always love him  but we don't work, I say. Why?  he says. I don't want to get it into what will become a circular and painful and useless conversation. I tell him I don't think this will end well, and he needs to leave because I don't want to argue with him. Why? I tell him I will speak with him tomorrow but tonight its obvious he has been drinking.
    He denies this, as usual. But its no use denying it--he is like night and day. I can smell it and I know getting hooked into any conversation will take up my entire evening and end in arguments. So I have to stay on point. Like a drunk, I keep repeating the same things: It's time for him to leave. Thanks for you help. We'll talk tomorrow because this wont' end well tonight. It works and somehow I get him to leave without a scene.
    I think my home is a trigger for him. This is the place he did most of his drinking. This is also the place that has the most bittersweet memories for him. He has told me before that he hates coming to the house. I should have listened more closely to that and not had him spend the day there. But then again,  I can't control his disease. Something else would have happened to make him want to drink.
    It breaks my heart to see how broken he is. I told him I wish him happiness and success and I do. How wonderful it would be for our son if that could come true. To have a father who is whole and sound each day all day. So in the New Year, that is my hope and my wish.

Making My Own Noise

    You know the old philosophical question, "If a tree falls down in a forest and there is nobody to hear it, will it still make a sound?" I have been thinking about a form of that question as it pertains to my life and divorce.
    One of things I miss about my marriage is having a witness for my life. It was comforting in some way to to have someone who is there to share what I have done, where I have been.
     I know I have to be careful not to romanticize this too much, because the last few years I'm not sure how much of my life my ex-husband actually paid attention to;  and if I'm to be very honest, how much I want remembered as I'm sure some events were not some of my proudest moments.
    But there is something  to be said about sharing your life with that one special person. Sometimes that in itself is  the catapult for starting a relationship and  sometimes it becomes the the glue for keeping it together. This is wonderful and great when its healthy. But sometimes I think people start relationships with the wrong person to fill that emptiness in their lives, to have a witness because need validation. Sometimes, too, people continue with relationships that otherwise aren't worth continuing  because of how much they have shared in the past and a continued need to have somebody by their side as they slug it out in the present and future.  How many marriages and friendships  continue because of a shared history or for the need to  someone there to share the present and future even if it comes without support or encouragement?
    Is this "need" to have an "other" by your side something hard-wired into human beings, or something we learned along the way? Is this the basic human need for companionship or something we are told makes our life valuable? Is a life more valuable if it's not shared with others? Does it make a noise on its own?
    I say yes, it does. Sort of. It depends on your definition of sharing. We share our lives in a variety of ways, we share our wisdom, we share our journey. When we humans do that,  it does make life -- ours and others -- more  valuable than keeping everything locked up tight.
    Where it gets itchy is when we start to think our lives are less worthy because there isn't someone there every step of the way as a witness. In other words, we are led to believe our lives haven't made a noise if we do not have a life companion,  If we are not part of a couple. To have someone, other than yourself say, yes that happened to you, this happened. To believe that the magical number two changes us from invisible to valuable without the realization we just added one more of the same number.
     Without a doubt, having someone to stand witness to your life can make the journey sweeter and richer. I've experienced that and it is to be celebrated. Today,  I have a son whom I share my a lot of my life with right now, and yes, that enhances my life. But I am acutely aware that there is an expiration date on sharing my life with my son. While I hope we remain close as he grows older, he will go out into the world and it would be unhealthy and inappropriate to expect him to share my everyday life as he does now when he's little.
    So I don't have that life companion that married couples have. Does that mean my life doesn't make a sound? That is somehow is innately less valuable? Value is just the power you place on something or someone. What's important for me to realize that my life, made of precious and mundane moments, is only as valuable I make it. No one else can cherish my life more than I. And no one take take the power away from its value either without my permission.
    That is my goal and challenge for the new year. To share my life with others, to be sure. But more importantly, to hear my own noise and feel it is enough that I, and I alone, hear it and bear witness to it.
  

Bad Days and Dollar Stores

Everybody has bad days. It is inevitable. The alarm clock doesn't go off and coffee grinds get into your morning cup and its off to the races.
    I have been having a particularly difficult year and when I have a bad day, its a doozy.  I get the feeling lately that I'm God's plaything. I have been exasperated to the point of exhaustion. Yes, I will admit I get angry at God and throw up my hands, "Why?!  Don't I already have enough?"
    I hate that saying: Whatever doesn't kill you will make you stronger. If you need proof that that's a bunch a hogwash, spend some time with a stroke patient.
     If that adage is true than I have played my cards wrong. Instead of being a capable, independent and strong woman I should have become a mincing delicate flower fainting from the "vapors", so God wouldn't seek me out to heap the challenges on me I am somehow designed to handle.
    This past week my son was sick. His father is falling off the wagon more regularly lately so was less than no help, in fact, he was a nuisance.  I nursed my son, cleaned up vomit, wiped his nose and and he got better. And, of course, then I got sick.        
     Meanwhile, the week ran into the weekend and yard work was beckoning. The leaves are piled in the yards and needed taken care of before it snows. This was a six-hour job I wasn't up to, so  I used precious funds and paid someone to do it for me. The yard looked great when he was done. 20 lawn bags filled to the top.I felt better about spending the money as I was feeling very achy.  I had a hot drink and went to bed.
     In morning, I awoke with my throat on fire, my head stuffed with cotton and then looked outside and saw that some miscreants had dumped half the bags out on the lawn and porch. Why? 
    After cleaning that up, I found out my ex is teetering on getting himself evicted from his parents house for his continued drinking. If that were to happen, there goes my son's relationship with his father, another crises he would have to handle.
     And yes, I hear those of you out there saying he's better off without his drunken father, but I'll tell you this: My son and his father love each other. My son is very aware of his father's illness. His father is deeply flawed, but who he hurts most is himself.  Is my son better off not having a relationship at all? I truly don't think so. When we got divorced, that was son's biggest fear that he wouldn't see his daddy anymore. Yes, Alcoholism is rough stuff and its not something that tops my wish list for what I want in my nine-year-old's life,  but I can't withhold reality from him and I can't withhold his dad. My son is adores his dad when sober, and avoids him when he's not. He knows how to use a phone and his grandparents are there to fill in any gaps of neglect that can happen if his dad falls off the wagon.
    I also found out that if my ex is allowed to stay at his parents house, they will be leaving on vacation half-way between my son's next scheduled weekend with his dad.  The weekend I had a Christmas party to go to. A  rare, adults-only affair that I have been looking forward to with unusual glee.
    Uncle already! I have enough. I've proven enough that I'm strong. God, if You are trying to teach me something, I promise you I can learn without all these negative distractions.
    Last night I got down on my knees and begged God to send me something good. Today in mail I received a $20 gift card for a dollar store. I had to laugh. That's about how the balance of good/bad is going in my life. Bad Stuff: Drunken ex, hooligans, sickness, cleaning up vomit in the middle of the night, poverty, uncertainty, despair. Good Stuff: A dollar store spree. Yes, God is funning me, but it's  better than a kick in the ass.  I'll take it.

Nosy or Noble? What's your business and what's not....

There's a show on television  I'm fascinated with. It's called, "What would you do?"  The premise features actors displaying morally questionable behavior in public. The public's response, or lack of, is filmed. The goal is for someone to step in and when that happens it is celebrated. When it doesn't it's explored.
    Yes, it verges on the cheesy reality t.v. side, but I think its hold on me is  because lately I've been thinking about our judgment on what is considered something worthy of moral outcry and what is not. When is it okay to cry "foul" and when is it better to say, "mind your own business?"
    In the Serenity Prayer that serves as the conscience of such groups as Al Anon, it says, "Grant me the ability to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can."
    Usually this serves as a reminder that you can't change others, nor should you try. That you can only change yourself, your own behavior and attitudes. Which I totally understand (and fail to successfully incorporate into my life way too often).     But there is a lot of gray space there. If someone is being hurt and your intervention or voice isn't going to change that someone getting hurt, does that mean its wise to be silent?
    It all comes down to what you expect to change.  For example, if a drunken man is at a bar with a young child, your voice and actions can change the man driving that child anywhere, but there is very little chance it going to change whether or not the man gets drunk again.
    If a person is being bullied because of his race, religion or sexual persuasion, you are probably not going to change the bully's attitude and prejudice by speaking up, but you can change the acceptance of the bullying.
    Too often we don't speak up because we think it won't change anything. It does change things, but you have to change your expectations of what will change. Forget trying to change the person. Change the environment in which that person operates. 
    I have written before about the bully's universal defect of not minding his or her business and that is correct. It is not anybody's business how people look, talk, or who they love or what they believe as long as it doesn't directly negatively affect your life -- and "directly" is the key word here because it doesn't count if someone's lifestyle negatively affects you internally--that's your business, not theirs.
    I'm talking about actual interruptions into your life. For example, if someone doesn't agree with your politics fine, that may make you uncomfortable, but it doesn't directly affect your life. That's their business. Someone protests your politics on a public street, yes, internally uncomfortable, but still its your problem and their business. That is not to say you shouldn't express your beliefs and disagreement, appropriately, if you choose.  If  that someone makes threatening calls to you or prevents you from going to work, school, church, that affects your life. They are no longer minding their own business. They are minding yours. They are bullying you.
    Speaking out against cruelty or potentially harmful situations is not butting into someone else's business. It is our business. It's your business, and mine.
    We stand by all too often and shake our heads at the state of our town, our country, our world. History has shown us that when this happens, the most amazing atrocities can happen.
    Speak up and speak out.  Your voice may be lonely, but not for long.