There comes a point in life, I suppose, where you must face reality. No matter how hard that reality may be. There comes a point when you have to hang up all your ideas, hopes, dreams, ideas, and knowledge and admit that perhaps, all along, you have been wrong. You have to abandon your knowledge on what you feel is best, abort the mission that says “As long as you______then things will be ok” and empty yourself of the notion that what you have assumed is right -perhaps, might just be wrong.
Its been a hard week.
Sure, in the whole scheme of things, in the grand plan, in the scope of the year -it hasn’t been that hard. There are worse things. There are harder things. There are things that would really be worse than this. And while I try to tell myself these things, while I try to keep myself from completely splattering all over everyone and everything -it doesn’t always help.
Because I’m still human. Deep down beyond the robot exterior that says “I got this. This will be ok. We will be fine….” my human heart shatters into a million and one pieces and I wonder if I will be able to pick up from this. I mean, I know I will. Because its not the worst thing that could happen, but it still sucks. And I don’t deal with ‘sucks’ all that well.
I try not to put myself in situations that I know won’t end well. I try to avoid places I know will lead to awkward encounters. I try not to stay around one person too long for fear that my nutty underside will come out to play. I try and live life with little exposure. I guard as much as possible. And in all other circumstances -I avoid. It works.
But then there are those moments, those days, those years…those kids. That make you come out a little. Because you can’t raise kids hiding out under the comfort of that rock. You can’t teach them by example to give life all you’ve got when you yourself are afraid of failure. You can’t teach confidence by hiding under a blanket. You can’t teach adventure by living between the four walls of safety. And you can’t teach them how to accept failure and move on -if you don’t learn to accept it yourself.
These lessons tho, they bite.
Perhaps it’s because I had an ideal situation worked out in my mind. Maybe its because of the tunnel vision I so often have. Or maybe it’s just because for once in my life -I thought I was doing the right thing, let down my guard and attempted to live -but that’s what happens when you truly start to live.
I have always said that I would do what is best for the kids. While I have failed at most things in life, I have tried to keep their best interest as the main goal. This isn’t to say that I have succeeded. In fact it might serve better as an open confession to admit that I have not, in fact, succeeded in this area. Regardless of my attempts.
Somehow, all along, I have blindly assumed that if I could just keep the kids together -they would have a fighting chance at this world.
And then things sort of fell apart.
When Dylan first started showing signs of having problems in the areas that he is, I had this vision of a day in the future where he would eventually come home -cured. Cured from what? From life, of course. That somehow sending him off to the “specialists” would equip him with the ability to handle life and once again -everyone would be together and things would be alright. Because I am nothing if not goal driven.
But with each weekly visit it became more and more apparent that he needed more than someone to talk to. He needed more than medication. More than a slap upside the head. He needed more. But what? Looking back, I guess I can see now that the hints at “Not being able to find him help” were more for me to make the connecting thoughts. The connecting thoughts that weren’t connected until yesterday afternoon when I got a phone call.
A phone call from well meaning, good people. People who have their heads on straight. People who at one point I thought had no idea what they were doing -yet were apparently the only ones that knew what they were doing. Because when they said “We only want to be the grandparents” what they really meant was “We want to take a few years to gather our thoughts and enable ourselves to be there for our grandchildren when you screw this all up.”
Hearing the truth, is hard. Admitting that what you have worked for, year after countless year is wrong -is hard. Accepting that this is the best -regardless of what YOU want? Is even harder. The only thing that makes it doable is by knowing that this? This is the best for him. This is what he needs. He will “Benefit from a better family / lifestyle.”
It’s really kind of hard to say, with words -just how it all hits. How it crumbles. Where it lands. It hits hard, it crumbles perfectly and lands somewhere in the middle of that endless, gaping hole. It comes full circle. Makes perfect sense. And will be ok.
Because they are right. And they have always been right. They have just been kind enough to give me a few years to try and figure it out on my own: That I really can’t do this. That it really is hurting them. That this. Needs to happen. For his sake.
And while it’s hard to hear. Difficult to grasp. And painful to come to terms with -I know its true.
Because the truth? It hurts.
It hurts deep.
But it will be ok. Because for once, I feel like I am doing the right thing.
I am letting go. Because it matters.