I had too much time to think myself into a dark alley this weekend. Idle hands and all. Endlessly scrolling X didn’t help. I thought, I really should step away from the screens. I knew I was consciously chasing a distraction. Willfully running from my own mind.
I confess—I started drinking again. And smoking weed. No fanfare. Just—a sip. A gulp. A hit. Then three. An ecstasy of mindlessness. But it never lasts and so, I need to dry out. Again. Not because it’s ruining my life. But because I am already marinating in intermittent shame. You are better than this, a part of me—maybe God?—whispers in my ear every muddled morning. But the seriousness of sobriety is exhausting. The clenched mind like teeth. Moderation? Oh how I wish. But once I take that first sip it’s all over.
There.
Forgive me.
Regrets about past parenting choices haunted me in my haze. If only I’d engaged in more activities with the kids when they were little. If only I’d made them do chores instead of weakly tasking them only to lose steam.
If only.
I was beating myself up for things already behind me, slothing around the house alone—a rare occurrence—while Mr and Miss Miller spent the weekend in the Poconos in the rain.
Miss leaves for school next Wednesday. The house will be practically bare. Mr Miller and I will be left with the dogs and our political silence. My fledgling sobriety.
My parents are dying. My dad has been declining for a while now. He’s 96. My mom, at 91, was just diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.
They are both lonely, having chosen to neglect their kids (he has three; she has four) more than actively engage with us over the years. This is why I am in a mild panic about my own past transgressions. Am I the same? I fear in the raw exposed hours of the morning.
I mean I know I did better as a parent than they did. Mr Miller assures me of this too. After all, I spent time actively reinforcing their personhood and autonomy—in direct opposition to what I sorely missed—and I consciously married a secure man from a functional family—I mean you know we have our issues, but we’ve been in this same stable house, all together, since we moved here in 2008. I have frequent, satisfying and deep conversations with both kids. There are so many examples of how unlike my parents I am. But it still feels like I’m frantically bailing a sinking ship. Because I see all my failings.
So I’m still afraid of dying alone.
The cursor blinks at me, mocks me. God, if you’re there, move my fingers across this dirty keyboard. Give this some meaning.
Monday Meaning.
I keep reading bits and bobs about people, who once they surrendered to God, to Jesus, their lives just completely turned around. They discovered a serenity that was always there. They were finally, blissfully, at peace.
I make this request to my bedroom ceiling almost nightly. But I must be doing something wrong, because I continue to struggle against anxiety, unease, loneliness and despair.
Touch grass, they say.
But the grass is wet and we have a hornet issue. Ground bees. Dog shit.
Excuses they say.
You’re right. I’m a turd.
Then of course there’s the gloom and loneliness of being the lone Trumper in a sea of empty “joyful” blue.
But that’s a struggle I can sink my teeth into. And maybe it’s why I do.
Is it all just a giant distraction?
What would the Tao say? What is The Way? Jesus might be my Teflon, but the Tao has always stuck to me. Let’s see…
When the great Tao is forgotten, goodness and piety appear.
When the body’s intelligence declines, cleverness and knowledge step forth.
When there is no peace in the family, filial piety begins.
When the country falls into chaos, patriotism is born.
Wise stuff.
And—
Express yourself completely, then keep quiet.
Be like the forces of nature:
when it blows, there is only wind;
when it rains, there is only rain;
when the clouds pass, the sun shines through.
Amen.
🌞
Look. The crap you’ve had to fight against for so many years has exhausted you. Give yourself a little kindness. The ideology that sucked your daughter in was unimaginable. Until it wasn’t. How could you have protected your family against something that didn’t even exist?
One thing I know about you, Mrs. Miller, is that you're a fiercely loving mom. That's absolutely clear. We all make mistakes as parents, so I'm sure you've made some. But those kids know you love them, and in the case of your daughter, telling her the truth even when it hurts is part of loving her. I'm sure she knows that.
And in the way you love your kids, you're already following God's example of unconditional love. The way you love your husband, too--to get past what divides your and stay close anyway.
Don't let a brief fall off the wagon cause you to spiral down. Look up. Pray. There's a lot to thank God for in the midst of all the garbage and stress of life. (I'm preaching to myself here, too. 😉)
As always, thanks for sharing yourself so fully and honestly with us. ❤️