I am trying to sort out my experiences and thoughts to better understand how to move forward and not stay stuck in the past.

Thursday, May 9, 2013

Giving Up

 I thought I was through with my arguing with God.  Silly me.  I thought I had reached a point in my beliefs (a more mature level) where I was ready to quit asking 'why?' and regardless of the storm that was brewing, I was finally ready to just hang on tighter to the boat, take some ginger if the waves got too rough, and tough it out without my usual complaining to God.  Crazy me.  I'm not done with any of it. 

My daughter was working toward three weeks without drinking. Hope was visiting, again, and I was preparing for her to move in permanently.  I was really enthusiastic about Hope's permanency when last week at church my daughter pointed out a class they were offering Wednesday night about finding your direction.  Last night was the class and I came home from work to the signs that Hope had left and Addiction had returned from his little break.  My daughter, who when sober is gentle, kind, thoughtful...turns into a quick tempered, sarcastic, liar. I hate it.  Anyway, my heart sank and I told her I wasn't feeling very well (it's the truth, during the day at school, I did start getting an upset stomach for no reason...or so I thought).  She still wanted to go.  I tried to talk her out of it without getting into a fight.  Finally, I told her I know that she had been drinking and I didn't want her to fall asleep while we were there or get into an argument about God with someone.  She said that she wouldn't.  So,  (I don't know if this was my inner voice or not because I'm noticing when I get that internally upset, I can't discern my inner voice from my own mind) against all my better judgement, we went. After all, this could be God finally answering my prayers.  On the way there, I went a different way to drop off a movie we had rented, and the road was closed.  So, I had to back track and go a different way.  How symbolic.  I took that way so we wouldn't be late.  We ended up being late.  So, I lost my mind in the car and told her, I was done.  If I didn't get some kind of sign that things would change, I was done.  I wouldn't return to church, because I'd know the miracles I'm praying for won't be sent.  That she was never going to change.  That I wasn't fighting this anymore.  If I didn't get some kind of sign, even if just a feeling, I was quitting.

We got there, checked in, and found a seat.  The theme was asking yourself seven questions to determine your path in life.  I didn't get past the first question: Your identity.  After we listened to an explanation and scripture, we were to write down our identities and descriptions.  I don't know what was wrong with my brain, but I just couldn't push myself to think.  My identities were: mother--I'm not sure what this means anymore; daughter--taking care of my dad; enabler--making things better (yes, I wrote that); friend--not there enough; teacher--trying to help.  That's who I am and it doesn't feel like I'm doing any of those jobs well enough.  Then the speaker read Psalms 139, where it talks about how God knew you in the womb and the number of your days.  And my mind snapped.  "These are the days You saw and numbered?"  "This is what was planned?"  My reaction to stress is to want to take a nap and it was all I could do to not lie down on the bench and close my eyes.  Those words were like the last pebble tossed on this mound of rocks I'm hauling around and I just couldn't push any good thoughts out of my brain.  I turned my head and glared at Hope who had followed us in, she smiled meekly then got up and left.   I looked at my daughter and saw her sitting, teetering on closing her eyes. I looked at the paper to see what she had written for her 'identieies' and all she had done was copy what the speaker had written as examples so I whispered, "Do you want to go?"  She looked at me and nodded, and we quietly got up and left. I threw the papers they gave us in the trash and have decided I probably won't be back.  I was so...I don't even know the emotion it felt so dead, that on the way home, I told my daughter that I give up, she's never going to change, I'll even buy her a bottle....and I did.  I bought her alcohol.  (I guess I am doing my enabling identity better than I thought). 

But I do give up.  I don't remember feeling that angry and numb before.  Like my ears just couldn't hear those words anymore: hope, love, rejoice.  I can't even say that I'm angry, just numb, I guess.  I don't know what happens next.  It's been out of my hands this whole time.  It's been out of everyone's hands if these days are the ones that were numbered.  How do I accept that, though, without being bitter and resentful--two emotions that I am constantly keeping at bay?  I don't know. I don't have any answers this morning.  I don't have any feeling this morning.  I don't have any idea of what to do, next.

4 comments:

  1. Oh I wish I could hug you in real life. It sounds like you are coming to the end of yourself. An unbelievably painful and frightening process. There is nothing you can do to change your daughter. You know that on a certain level, but I think you are being brought to an even deeper level. Gods time isn't our time. This is between God and your daughter. Not you. Its not about you. I say all of this knowing the incredible pain (or at least something similar) that you are feeling my friend. Its ok to be at the end of your self. Its ok to not have the answers. Its ok to not know what to do next. I think that is exactly where God brings us so that He can finally work. That does not mean a miracle is on the horizon. It means He is with you. It means that He see's your girl and He knows her better than even you. It means that He is waiting patiently for her to pick Him. Its not about you....but He is walking with you as you are made to watch this awful journey she is on. All is not lost. Nothing is unchangeable. She is still alive....there is always hope while she is alive.

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  2. You have such a kind heart, Annette. Thank you.

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  3. Oh Signe - Annette is right. I cried when I read this. I really understand how you feel. God bless you & your daughter. I'm sorry you're going through this.

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  4. Beach, I'm sorry you cried. Thank you for your kind words and blessing.

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