by Margaret Dawson | May 23, 2021 | Parenting With Transparency
In a recent blog post, I wrote about our family’s experience with mental illness and addiction. I received such an overwhelming amount of love, questions, and empathy from that post that I realized there are many of us coping with a family member’s mental illness or addiction.
Importantly, this taught me that none of us is alone on this journey. Secondly, I realized we need to talk about this more and share with each other what we are learning and how we are coping.
Let me preface by stating that I am not an expert. However, I continue to learn every day how to take care of myself and my family amid these diseases.
At times, I fall into depression myself, wondering how long we can manage or lamenting how unfair it is that our child has to deal with this. However, I work hard to not focus on the injustice of the situation, and, instead, keep my mind and thoughts positive and looking forward.
Below, I share seven strategies that help me, and I hope they help you or someone you know.
7 Tips for Coping with a Loved One’s Mental Illness or Addiction
1. Ask for help
Don’t go on this path alone. There are amazing people and resources out there. My husband and I did our best being parents, therapists, psychologists, nutritionists, and protectors all at the same time. However, it takes mental health professionals who have both the experience and nothing at risk or at stake to help bring out the light that is buried in someone who is sick with addiction or mental illness.
Through my research, I found an amazing place, specializing in dual diagnosis, that my son loved. Use the resources available to you to get help, and ask others for recommendations. Help is not only for your family member, but for you, as well, as it’s easy for your own mental and physical health to suffer in trying to care for someone else.
2. Take care of yourself
It’s easy to focus only on the person who is ill or troubled and not keep yourself healthy. But, you can’t lose yourself in the process of trying to keep your loved one alive or healthy. This is probably my greatest challenge, and I think many parents struggle with this in the best of circumstances. However, do not put yourself last.
Your loved one is probably going to be stuck in a cycle negative thinking. Therefore, you will have to really focus on maintaining your positive attitude. I found meditation, long walks, deep breathing, and exercise in general every day helped me stay grounded. The days I found myself feeling angry, a run on the treadmill with loud music brought me back to a healthy place.
In other posts, I talk about personal mantras and how I’ve used them most of my life – through good times and bad. Perhaps, having a simple mantra you say to yourself throughout the day might help. During the worst times, my mantra was “I am a good parent,” or “I am calm and compassionate.” I had sticky notes posted throughout the house for both of us during the months our son was living with us.
3. Talk to Others
I was so afraid to say anything to anyone. Part of the stigma around mental illness and addiction is the shame and fear surrounding the people involved. I carried this shame and exhaustion with me every day into work, but told no one.
However, at some point, I broke down and talked to a colleague. The support I received from people I barely knew or only knew in a work context saved me. Each person I talked to was so ready to share their hearts, experiences, and time. I now do the same for others. Sometimes, you can just tell when someone needs to talk.
Have one or more people who are your lifeline, meaning you can call or text them at any time. Someone is always willing to be that person for you, because they have been where you are.
4. Trust your gut (or your “spidey sense”)
We joke about this now, but I seem to always have a sense when something is wrong with any of our children, but especially with this child. Many times over the past couple of years, I just had a “feeling” something was wrong or I wasn’t hearing the whole truth. Every time, my gut is right.
Don’t feel bad for having these thoughts or instincts. Believe in them and in yourself. You may just save someone’s life.
5. You can’t do it for them (they have to want help)
This is the hardest. If the other person is not ready to be helped, there is little you can do. You can only love them. However, watching them spiral is terrifying, and I have never been good at allowing myself to feel helpless. However, that’s exactly how I felt and often feel.
If the person is under 18, you can take charge of the situation a bit more. But, even then, mental illness and addiction can make the sweetest child fight against your love and help. If the family member is over 18, they have to want to engage with therapy, a psychiatrist, or other professional.
Your focus needs to be on keeping them (and your family) safe. That might mean micromanaging their lives a bit, like taking away car keys, which they will hate. However, I felt (and often still feel) like we are fighting for someone’s life every single moment of every day. Even if your child doesn’t want help, try to get them into therapy or to some place where they are safe and getting treatment. However, be prepared for it not to work if they are not ready to be helped.
6. Know when to let go
Per the fifth tip above, there is only so much we can do if the person with the disease does not want to get better. As painful as this sounds, sometimes nothing we do matters. Because only the person who has the addiction or mental illness can make the change.
During this period in our journey, a colleague recommended the book, “Letting Go with Love.” There may be a point where you just can’t keep enabling or saving your loved one.
I will admit I am still not good at this. It is hard for me to give up or take a chance that if I stop doing something, I will lose him. Accordingly, some people think we are still over enabling our son. I just am not ready for the potential consequences if we don’t. Hopefully soon I will be able to fully let go.
7. Believe people can change
This is powerful, and a lesson I’ve learned beyond this situation.
We are often taught that a person can never change. But that is just not true. I’ve seen people decide to become better people or healthier or happier – even fundamentally changing their core values.
Believe that the situation you are in can be different. And, of course, forgive. Forgive yourself and your loved one.
Mental health is a lifelong journey
Perhaps the greatest challenge is realizing that there isn’t a magical cure to diseases such as addiction or mental illness. However, I recently heard a great quote that stuck with me and put addiction in perspective.
“Addiction is focusing on one thing and giving up everything else, while sobriety is focusing on everything and giving up just one thing.”
If we flip how we think about this, it doesn’t sound so daunting. In fact, giving up one habit in order to live a full, healthy life and overcome this disease feels achievable.
I wish all the best to you and your family. If you have tips for others going through this that have helped you, please provide them in the comments.
by Margaret Dawson | Nov 26, 2020 | Parenting With Transparency
When your child doesn’t want to live
“Do you want to live today?” I ask my son, as he stands by the refrigerator.
I realize this is a strange question to ask your child, but this is our new normal. It has been for a few months now, since the residential rehab facility that helps people with mental illness and addiction closed down due to Covid19.
Of course, this wasn’t the first thing I asked him. The morning began with me saying “good morning.” However, something in the way he looked at me made my skin tingle with that mother’s sixth sense.
Each day I go to bed afraid to fall asleep in case something happens overnight, and I wake up each morning terrified I will find him sick or dead. This question is needed.
“I don’t think I do,” he says, in a calm, matter-of-fact way. Except I can see the pain behind his eyes. He is tired.
“Have you acted upon that feeling?” I ask, praying silently that the answer is no.
We have learned a whole new vocabulary these past few months as we deal with our son’s mental health and addiction. No accusations, no blame, no shame. I’m trying to get answers and be an ally. These suicide ideations or attempts have become a regular backdrop to our daily life. A bottle of vodka, enough beer to pass out, or anything he can consume or do in an extreme way with the goal of hurting himself or worse.
“No, not yet,” he says.
The stranglehold of Mental illness and addiction
Like that, my day changes. I can see my schedule in my head, and I push it aside.
“Why don’t you come on my beach walk with me and the dog,” I say. “Let’s just get outside and get some fresh air, and you can tell me whatever you want. Or, we can just be quiet together. Whatever you need.”
“Okay,” he says.
“We’ll leave in 5 minutes,” I say, trying not to betray the urgency in my voice that I feel to get this man out of the house and with me so I know he’s safe. Even if just for an hour.
While he gets ready, I text my assistant and ask her to cancel all my morning meetings. I tell her I’ll update her later regarding my afternoon schedule, depending on how things go. She knows what my message means.
My son talks the entire hour or so we walk along the beach and the road near our house. He talks about the voices in his head and how he doesn’t believe he is worthy of living. Also, he tries to explain how he is just so tired in general, and how he specifically is tired of not being good enough.
However, it’s not all serious. As we walk, we also laugh, mostly at the dog running through the waves. That laughter is a huge stress relief.
Parents will do anything to help their child
When we get back to the kitchen, the truth comes out.
“I lied earlier,” he says. “When you asked me if I acted upon my feelings, I told you no. But actually, I did.”
“Okay,” I say, flashing a million thoughts all at once, wondering what he did.
“I took everything left in the bottle of one of my anti-depressants,” he admits.
For a millisecond, time stops, as my brain tries to understand the level of danger without understanding anything about this drug or what the repercussions are.
Then we move into action.
“Let’s figure this out,” I say, calmly.
“Can you call your psychiatrist and find out what danger you are in while I go online and see what I can find out?”
He agrees.
Both the doctor and our research agreed that overdosing on antidepressants doesn’t typically kill you, but it can make you violently ill. We didn’t need to take him to the ER, thankfully, as with Covid, who knows what that would be like. However, the pills would make him horribly sick.
Our son started vomiting a few hours after our walk, and it continued throughout the day and most of the night. Finally, around 3am, we heard him snoring. A sign that he was finally sleeping.
Always be willing to start again at Day One
The next day we start over. Day one, again.
When he gets up, he is tired and weak from throwing up so much, but he is ready to start over.
Step one for this new beginning is getting back on all his medications with the right doses and schedule. Second step is clearing out his room and our entire house of every ounce of alcohol. He volunteers to also throw out all the junk food he’s been storing in his bedroom.
Over the course of the last 24 hours, I learned that for the past ten years, he did not live one day when he was both sober and on the right level of medication.
All the times he said he wasn’t drinking, he lied. When he said he was taking his meds, he wasn’t, or he took the wrong amount at the wrong time.
While he dutifully called his psychiatrist every couple of months, he lied to him, too, telling him he was fine. He refilled his prescriptions to only not take them at the right time or not take the right dose.
This reality hit me hard. My job was clear. Get him back to a baseline of sobriety, health and stability so the meds can do their job.
I thought we had been doing that for the past few months. But, no. Moving forward, I needed to pay much closer attention to everything.
Medications can also be suicidal weapons
One drug he liked to use as a weapon against himself is his anti-psychotic medicine. At 21, doctors diagnosed him with clinical depression with psychotic features. This looks a lot like mild paranoid schizophrenia.
Without his meds, he hears voices. Worst of all, the voices sound just like people he knows, and the voices always say horrible things about him.
Once, when he was working with another one of our sons, he told me his co-workers were saying mean things about him. I tried validating this with our other son, who responded with confusion and surprise. “No, mom, I’m positive that is not happening. Everyone likes him and makes comments about what a hard worker he is.”
While the voices are not real, they sound real. And he often thinks they are real. He cannot tell the difference. One of the worst voices, he tells me, is mine. That breaks my heart.
Maintaining mental health requires consistent medication
Together, we go through all his prescriptions and meds. He has an updated list from his doctor, who he spoke to again today.
We line up all the bottles.
He explains to me what each one is, while I read the detailed instructions and warnings. I take notes detailing when to take each one and how many pills. I then create a schedule to keep next to all the bottles in the kitchen cabinet.
Of course, there are missing pills. Not only the one he emptied yesterday, but a couple of others that he let the prescriptions run out. For others, there are three bottles of the same prescription.
We pick up new prescriptions for everything and begin a new routine.
Using one of those daily pill holders, I organize his supplements and his medications by morning and evening. All bottles, and these holders, will remain in the kitchen cabinet, which we now keep locked.
I hate this. But it is necessary.
Getting help from mental health experts
When talking to his therapist, who runs the residential rehab facility he was scheduled to attend pre-Covid, she asked him to take another medication: Antabuse. He is required to take it for 30 days before his session begins, which hopefully will now start in July.
This drug has been used to help alcoholics since the 1950’s in order to keep them from drinking. In fact, when taking Antabuse, even the slightest amount of alcohol consumption makes you very sick.
Considering the impact of this new drug, we take a shopping trip to the pharmacy to buy alcohol-free versions of all his toiletries. Everything seems to have alcohol in it: shaving cream, toothpaste, lotion, shampoo, etc. It reminds me of when I first went gluten free and learned how many food items contain wheat or flour.
Staying sober and healthy
For several weeks (I honestly don’t know how long it was), we all remain sober and healthy.
In the morning, I greet him and give him his meds and supplements, and then lock back up the cabinet. In the evening, the routine repeats itself.
We keep his car keys and his wallet. He does not leave the house without one of us.
After only a few days of this new routine, his eyes look different: whiter, healthier. He is more alert.
In July, the residential rehab facility was able to re-open, and he spent 28 days learning how to be the best version of himself.
I am so thankful for that place and the amazing people who founded it and and continue to work so hard to save lives and souls every single day.
I am also thankful to friends and colleagues who shared their stories with me, and allowed me to call them any time day or night if I didn’t know what to do. Or, if I just needed a compassionate ear. I could not have gotten through this without them.
The Mental health stigma and suicide rate
Through our experience, I learned how we are not alone. Far from it. In fact, millions of people and families face mental illness and addiction.
With the pandemic crisis, I cannot stop thinking about the people with mental health or addiction issues who do not have parents or family around them like our son does. People who are probably living on the streets, unable to have the financial or personal resources to stop using drugs or start taking medications.
The data is, frankly, depressing. More than 25% of adults in the United States suffer from a major mood disorder such as depression or anxiety. During Covid-19, experts estimate that number rose to over 40% of the population. At any one time, approximately 13% of adults are being treated for mental health problems.
Globally, mental illness is crippling families. The World Bank estimates that at least 10% of the world’s population suffers from some type of mental health issue, and 20% of the world’s children and adolescents suffer mental disorder.
Over 20 million people each month use substances in excess.
People with substance abuse disorders are six times more likely to commit suicide than those without, according to Mental Health America. The rate of completed suicide among people with alcohol or drug abuse problems is two to three times higher for men and six to nine times higher for women compared to those who do not have an addiction problem.
There is also a strong connection between homelessness, mental illness, and addiction. Reports suggest over 30% of homeless people battle mental illness, which often leads to drug and alcohol abuse.
What if we treated mental illness like a “real” disease?
I also learned how common it is for people to suffer from the dual diagnosis of addiction and mental illness. This is more common than we realize.
Some 25% of Americans with mental illness also suffer from some form of chronic substance abuse, either alcohol or drugs or both. The two work against you in a negative cycle that is hard to break. Sadly, about 50% of those with dual diagnosis are not getting treatment for either illness.
I once told my son that mental illness and addiction are diseases, just like cancer. Only these diseases are stigmatized. When someone has cancer, the world is quick to rally around the sick person and do whatever is needed to help them live and be cancer free.
However, when someone is an addict or mentally ill, the world vilifies them, as if these diseases are chosen by the victim.
No matter what illness your child suffers, a parent will do anything to help that child be healthy again. We continue to pray and work to keep our son healthy and, more importantly, happy. I want all of my children to feel worthy of this precious life they were given.
I think it will take all of us to break this stigma and embrace anyone who struggles with mental health or addiction. It is not without its challenges. Addicts will lie, steal, cheat, and hurt the very people who love them and want to help them.
However, each day is a new day. Tomorrow might be day one for you or one of your loved ones.
Sharing our stories and our voices
I struggled for months to write this. In my heart, I knew I needed to write down my experience and share it with others who might also be struggling. However, I found it hard to actually get it done or admit this happened. Honestly, there is guilt, shame, and embarrassment.
No matter how many people tell you it’s not your fault, it’s hard to hear it. As a parent, how can your child hurt and it not be your fault.
Part of healing from mental illness and addiction is letting go of the guilt and shame. For everyone involved.
I am sharing my story now.
Hopefully, together, we can break the addiction and mental health stigma that persists in our global society.
Today, I see moments when our son’s beautiful light shines bright. At least he now knows what his light is and how to shine it.
But there are still dark days. My hope is that he, and everyone experiencing addiction or mental illness, will discover how to maintain a quiet mind, an open heart, and the possibility for enduring happiness.
by Margaret Dawson | Nov 27, 2019 | Parenting With Transparency
“Hi mama,” my son yells up through the kitchen window.
I look out the window, smile, drop my dish towel, and hurry to the front door.
His girlfriend is first up the front stairs, and I grab her grocery bags and hug her all at the same time. I like this girl. She fits into our crazy tribe.
I take the groceries into the kitchen while she heads back down for more. I love these grown-up children, who can stop at the store on their way to your house, and it’s no big deal.
“What about me? No hug?” This 6-foot 4-inch man-son says to me, chortling.
“So good to see you,” I say into his strong body, as I hold onto this amazing boy for a few seconds. “I’ve missed you two.”
“We’ve missed you, too,” he says.
“Okay, it’s officially mimosa time!” I declare.
I deserve a drink. I’ve been up since 5 am prepping for our annual pre-Thanksgiving Thanksgiving dinner. The house is already glowing with smells of cinnamon, sage, rosemary, oregano, and garlic, as well as fresh-brewed coffee.
The homemade cranberry sauce is cooling in the frig, the sweet potatoes with ginger and cumin are in one crock pot, and the purple potatoes that will become a garlic mash are boiling on the stove. I will put the turkey in around noon for our four o’clock-ish dinner time, so there’s still plenty of time to get the stuffing going. And with all the arrivals, I have a lot of people to help chop up ingredients.
But for now, we will enjoy mimosas. I love opening champagne, and with the orange juice they just brought, I start pouring the bubbly mixture that signifies celebration and morning brunch.
OUR THANKSGIVING TRADITION IS AN EARLY HOLIDAY
We started this Thanksgiving tradition a few years ago, holding our celebration the weekend before the actual Thursday holiday. By doing so, more of the children and their significant others can make it to the celebration, and it allows them to spend actual Thanksgiving with other family or friends. And traveling over the weekend before is much easier with less traffic on the roads and in the air, not to mention significantly cheaper.
Three of our five children are making it this year. One of the older twin boys arrived last night. He was already there when I arrived home from work. I walked straight to him from my car, wrapping him in my arms in the driveway, taking him in.
The youngest son is due to arrive soon with his girlfriend – another one I like. She suits this son. Also, she is not intimidated by me, which is a good sign. I hate those shaky girls who wear too much make-up and can’t hold their own with me. And yes, I know that’s probably unfair, since there are grown men who are intimidated by me. But come on, these boys grew up with me, so they should be attracted to strong women, right?
OUR FAMILY IS ALSO NON-TRADITIONAL
The youngest son and girlfriend are driving from Seattle with my ex-husband and his wife, with whom I share two of my sons. We have been celebrating holidays, birthdays, and milestones for so long together, it would seem weird to not have them here this weekend.
I know what you’re thinking right now: “Wait, did she say her ex-husband and his wife?” Yes. Yes, I did.
Just like your reaction, the first time people experience our “family”, they are surprised. But as we like to say, “we got over it a long time ago, so you can, too.” And we truly have. In fact, just writing “ex-husband” sounds so strange, like I’m talking about someone else. He’s the father of two of my children, and Lynn is their other mom. It’s just our family.
I can’t imagine life or Thanksgiving without them, and I truly enjoy spending time with them. I miss our college weekends, theatre productions, and basketball games where we would hang out and sometimes go out for dinner afterward.
COOKING AND NURTURING IS MY HAPPY PLACE
Dinner preparation continues but now with a mimosa in my hand, and a fresh pot of coffee brewing. I made gluten free carrot orange muffins, and a rich, fluffy sour cream cardamom coffee cake for our brunch time.
I used to make this coffee cake all the time before I was diagnosed with gluten intolerance. However, this was the first time I made it gluten free, and in addition to gluten free flours, I used plain Greek yogurt instead of sour cream. It turned out just as yummy as before.
As with any good holiday at our house, the food and drink never really stop – we just move from one quarter to the next, just like the football games blaring from the TV room downstairs.
Soon, the laughter, smells, and new cars in the driveway entice my husband in from the yard, where he has been chainsawing trees for the fire pit we plan to do tonight.
Just as my happy place is in the kitchen, wearing an apron and adding spices to my various dishes like an artist chooses colors and textures – his happy place is outside with his chainsaw, wearing his Carhartts, orange suspenders, and Chippewas.
I love these moments, cooking food I love for the people I love. Doing it my way, which means never following a recipe and making it slightly different every time. A little more paprika here, some pepper there, some more cinnamon to this dish.
This is when my light is shining; when our home becomes a gathering place.
Our dining area near the kitchen that is our family gathering place.
OUR HOME IS THE GATHERING PLACE
We have a sign above our sliding glass doors from the great room to the deck that says just that: “The Gathering Place.” And it is.
Even as I’m cooking, people are wandering in and out of the kitchen, sitting on the counter stools or out on the deck. Multiple conversations. Cutting boards scattered with various items being prepped.
Guests arrive with their contributions to the meal, as more platters, appetizers, and wine are opened and shared. Introductions are made for first timers. They soon join the waves of laughter. So much laughter. Such happiness.
BRINGING FAMILY TOGETHER IS MY MOM JOB
I learned through the years that this is something I must do. I guess it’s a matriarchal thing – or what the mama is supposed to do. Otherwise, it’s too easy for everyone to just go their own way. Our children all live a long drive or flight away from us.
I think it’s our job to make sure we are providing events and opportunities to get together. That means we drive or fly to see them whenever we can, and we fly them to our house or other locations to gather.
We are fortunate to have the means to do so, because I can’t imagine not having these gatherings. My heart would remain at half-empty if I didn’t fill it up with the love and laughter of our grown children and other family and friends.
I’m sure there are some eye rolls or chuckles from the children when they receive my texts and emails about the next time I want us all to get together. But they know better than to ignore them or not at least try to come. Plus, I know they enjoy these gatherings as much as we do.
Family, in whatever form it takes, is one of my absolute core values. My children, and the people around them, are my joy and addiction.
THANKFUL FOR MY FAMILY AND FRIENDS
This year joining us are two couples we’ve met in our new hometown of the past two years, Ocean Shores. These people are now part of our family, and important threads in the life we are weaving here.
And they fit in, quick to laugh, tell silly jokes, tease somebody, and enjoy good food and drink.
I miss our other two children, but one is doing a rotation on the east coast for medical school, and the other works in retail and cannot get away at all this time of year.
As if on cue, just as I have my hands up the Turkey’s ass, where I’m shoving stuffing,the phone rings. It’s our daughter. One of the girlfriends answers the phone for me and puts it on speaker phone.
“Hey sweetie, I’m stuffing the turkey, can I call you back in a little bit?” I say.
“She literally has her arm up the turkey’s orifice,” says the girlfriend.
Laughing over the phone, our daughter says, “yep, all good. Just wanted to wish you a happy early Thanksgiving. Wish I was there.”
As we all sit down with our food ready to enjoy the feast before us, I ask each person to state something they are thankful for. Yes, I am that person. Typically, I see new people give a look of, “oh, god, not this” on their faces when I make this request. But as everyone shares each personal thanks, I also see the looks of, “yeah, wow, and that’s right” on faces.
We start with my father-in-law, who gives thanks to be here with everyone and enjoy this time together. By the end, as always, I have tears, as people share such gracious words of thanks.
I am so thankful for this group of people: my children, their friends, my friends, and our family, who, year after year, sit at this table to eat, drink, tell stories, laugh, and be present, together. Oh, and, of course, play Cards Against Humanity.
WE ALSO HAVE A PRE-CHRISTMAS TRADITION
In addition to our pre-Thanksgiving celebration ritual, we also have an annual family reunion in Las Vegas a few days before Christmas. This is my mother-in-law’s side of the family, as her eldest brother, and the elder of the family, lives in Vegas.
I used to fight this annual gathering, as I hate Las Vegas, and I could not reconcile the dichotomy of the Christmas spirit with the Vegas debauchery.
But then I realized around year three of this annual pilgrimage that it didn’t matter where this family reunion took place. Because it wasn’t really about Vegas; it was about being together as a family.
Granted, this is an Irish Kentucky family who loves to drink and gamble, making Vegas an ideal destination. But the people are the real reason we go to Vegas.
IT’S ABOUT THE PEOPLE NOT THE LOCATION
Now, I look forward to our yearly Vegas trip, and I embrace the somewhat white trash resort (as I call it) where we stay. Here, I have my favorite penny slots, our favorite bartender at TGI Friday’s who loves us, and my favorite velour Christmas dress I wear with red stockings and boots. Of course, we also have our collection of tacky Christmas sweaters to wear.
But what I really love is the gathering at Doc and Arlene’s house. This is where Arlene is the “mama” of the house, and she rules the kitchen as a queen rules her countryside: with grace, compassion, patience, and a lot of food. She knows everyone’s favorite dish. And she is everyone’s favorite Auntie.
This year our Vegas reunion will not be quite the same. As this year we will be without one of the elders, Uncle Don.
We knew this day would come. Every year, the elders joke it could be their last. They are all over 80 years old. But we all remained in denial.
I think I am still in denial, and it won’t hit me until that moment I go down to McDonalds in the lobby at 5 am for coffee and Uncle Don won’t be sitting there. Or when I’m alone at a slot machine in the corner of the casino having some alone time, and the only person who shows up is Don, because he, too, likes some quiet time.
HOW TO BE INTENTIONAL THIS HOLIDAY SEASON
What can you take away from this?
The biggest lesson for me is not being afraid to ask for what you want. To stick to my core values; one of which is family.
If you want your children to come visit, or you want to go see them, then just ask or tell them what you want.
There are so many people and families that have these passive aggressive ways of communicating, instead of just directly saying, “I want you to come to my house.”
It takes hard work and intention to maintain these connections. As we enter this holiday season, I encourage you to be intentional. To ask for what you want. To do what you want.
This life is short, as we hear so often. But it’s true.
Therefore, do what you need to be with those you love or to reconnect with those people who have somehow slid out of your life. Don’t be alone this holiday season. Seek out others. Ask for help. Ask for what you need.
I think you’ll be surprised how the universe responds.
Two sons, their girlfriends and me after our morning beach walk the day after our Thanksgiving feast.
by Margaret Dawson | Aug 21, 2019 | Parenting With Transparency
The Mother’s Day Incident
“Mommy, I have to show you something,” my five-year-old son bursts into the kitchen, where I am starting to chop broccoli. His skinny body is shaking with excitement, and he is grinning as if it’s Christmas morning and he’s ready to start ripping open presents under the tree.
“Okay, honey.” I put down my knife. “Do you need to show me right now or can it wait until after dinner? I’m making your favorite spicy stir fry with beef and broccoli.”
“No,” he says emphatically. “I have to show you now. I’m too excited.”
“Okay,” I say again. And turn to face this sweet boy.
“I know Mother’s Day isn’t til Sunday, but I really want to show you this now. We made family books. I drew our whole family myself, and then I cut out pictures from magazines, and I wrote some nice things in the book,” he explains as he holds up a stapled book of colored construction paper that says “My Family Book” on the cover in big Kindergarten, crayoned words.
“Actually, I want to show you now, because I’m giving it to Lynn for Mother’s Day,” he says. “I think it will help her feel more like part of the family,” this innocent child explains.
Lynn is the stepmother for my two youngest sons. She started dating my ex-husband a couple of years ago. She adores my boys, and they love her right back. Just as it should be.
But at this second, I’m not thinking about how lovely she is.
What I’m thinking is, WTF?
Seriously? We are now worried if the stepmom is feeling like part of the fucking family? What about the biological mother? Who fairly frequently now gets called the fucking aunt when we are all together.
Remembering you are the grown-up
I pull myself together, quickly, hopefully not giving away my disappointment, and yes, let’s be honest, my jealousy.
Deep breath.
“You are my sweet boy,” I say, calling him the nickname I have used since he was born. He is always thinking of others, wanting everyone to be happy, and always quick with a smile that charms ladies of all ages.
“Don’t worry, mommy,” he assures me, sensing my mood shift. “I made you a card.”
A card. I get a fucking card. And the stepmother gets the Family Book. Okay, I can handle this.
“Lynn is going to love this book,” I assure him. “You did a great job.”
This little boy runs out of the kitchen with his grin still shining. Meanwhile, I grab my most expensive bottle of Cabernet out of the wine cabinet. I now need a large glass before I start cooking dinner.
A Saturday soon after the Mother’s Day Incident
It is a glorious afternoon in Bellevue, Washington. Unfortunately, I am not enjoying this 75-degree, sunny day on my deck or on Lake Washington. Instead, I am at a tee-ball game for our youngest son.
If you have never been to a tee-ball game, consider yourself lucky. It is pre-baseball, where a dozen four and five-year-olds stand around picking grass or their noses, or both. Once in a while, someone catches a ball or throws it in the right direction. Imagine watching paint dry. Only slower.
There is no pitcher. The baseball (a soft, squishy version) is put on the “tee,” and the batter is supposed to swing the bat straight at the ball to hit it.
However, despite the fact that the ball does not move, it takes most of these little players up to a dozen swings to hit the ball. There are no strikes. There are no outs. Everybody gets to run around the bases. When the batter does hit the ball, every single fielder runs toward it, often causing collisions, fights, and tears. Meanwhile, the batter is running the bases toward home as if he had just hit a grand slam at Fenley Park.
My ex-husband is coaching our son’s team, so Lynn (the stepmother) and I are sitting next to each other in our matching blue sports chairs near third base. I look at her travel mug in the cup holder. Probably hot tea, not alcohol, I ponder.
I almost filled mine with coffee, but somehow ended up with rum and coke.
Don’t judge. A mom has to do what she does to survive youth sports. Don’t even get me started on my survival tactics for soccer games in the rain.
The Legend of the Lesbian Moms
One of the dads comes up and stands right in front of our chairs, partially blocking our view of the field.
“Hi there,” he bursts out with the enthusiasm and volume of a cheerleader on a Friday night. “I’m Tom! I’m Zach’s dad.”
Oh god; Zach. Probably short for Zachery. It’s one of those cool names everyone is giving their boys. Or is there some biblical reference here that we’re supposed to infer?
“Hi,” I say in my sweet mom’s voice. “I’m Margaret, and I’m William’s mom. And this is Lynn, Will’s other mom,” I explain.
“Hi there,” Lynn says, putting her hand over her eyes to block the sun in her eyes, so she can see Tom.
He is staring at us with a slightly perplexed look on his face. And then he shakes himself out of his trance.
“Oh, that’s great. Good for you. Totally cool. Really, just great,” he stammers, clearly flustered.
WTF is he going on about? I wonder.
“Ok, well great to meet you both, really, just great.” He continues, quickly sprinting away.
Lynn and I look at each other with absolute confusion.
“What was that?” she asks.
“I have no idea,” I respond. “Probably just the same old shock that we are sitting next to each other, because we are supposed to hate each other,” I guess.
“He thinks you’re lesbian moms,” our eight-year-old son blurts out, sovling the mystery. “Obviously,” this beyond-his-years, smart boy states.
“Oh my god,” we say almost in unison. And break into laughter.
“That is awesome,” I say.
“We should totally play that up,” Lynn says.
“Please don’t,” says our son.
16 Years Later at College Graduation
I am sitting at the far end of the table next to Lynn. Our elder son, Dawson, is sitting next to us. Our husbands, my current husband and my ex-husband, are at the other end of the table, sitting next to the graduate. Family and friends fill in the rest of the dozen seats. We are in Fort Collins to celebrate William’s college graduation from Colorado State University.
It is a proud mama moment for both of us.
“We did good,” I say to Lynn.
“Yeah, we did,” she agrees. “I guess the dads did okay, too. Not as good as us, but not bad.”
We chortle.
We are eating at our favorite FoCo restaurant, the Blue Agave. It’s a family favorite. It’s a tradition to eat here whenever we are in town, and all four parents are in town together at least once or twice a year.
Lynn and I both love that we can get gluten free food easily at the restaurant, and good red wine. I don’t remember when she started doing gluten free. It was after me, but not long. We are the same age, so it’s not surprising we both hit a pre-menopausal gluten issue.
The waiter arrives to take our drink order.
Lynn and I are discussing the wine menu. My arm is around the back of her chair, and our heads are close together as we both squint through our reading glasses to decipher the small print.
The legend and relationship continue
“We’re going to get a bottle of this red blend,” I say as I point to a specific bottle on the wine list.
“How many glasses?” the waiter asks.
“Oh, probably three; I’m sure our son will want a glass with dinner even though he’s going to start with a Margarita, right?” I suggest as I nod my head toward Dawson.
“If there’s any left for him,” Lynn jokes. And we both laugh.
“That’s great,” says the waiter. “Good for you.”
Good for us? What, that we’re sharing wine with our son? I wonder. Or maybe we picked out a really good bottle of wine.
As the server walks to the other side of the table, our son looks at us while shaking his head. “Would you two stop playing up the lesbian mom thing!”
Ah that’s what he meant by good for us. Once again.
“Never!” we both exclaim, laughing harder.
A friend of the family sitting down at the other end of the table is looking at Lynn and me with absolute consternation.
“Are you two always like this?” she asks, with her forehead crinkled in concern, clearly wondering why we are both sitting next to each other and getting along so well.
“Yep! Sometimes worse,” I confirm.
“I guess everyone should be like that,” she admits, speaking of our parenting situation.
Yes, they should.
The best other mother I could ask for
I can’t imagine life without this other woman. This stepmother. She carried on my dreams and hopes for my children when I wasn’t there. She made sure they ate their broccoli and wore clean clothes and got to school on time.
This stepmom loves our boys with all her heart. She is a good mom, and a great wife. I knew the moment I met her she was a much better match for my ex-husband.
I should clarify that our relationship did not come without work. We had our issues and conflicts. But we worked through them. I will always be thankful to my ex-husband for our ability and agreement to separate our relationship from our parenting. We learned to put our parenting, and our children, first.
For example, rules were the same at both houses. We talked every day, so the boys couldn’t play us off each other. Also, we made sure to only speak positively about the other parent in front of the boys. Family decisions were made together, as a family.
Teachers were often shocked when we would show up for teacher conferences together. When Lynn joined the parenting team, she also came to the teacher conferences. We were told many times that this was not the norm for divorced parents.
Growing up, our boys thought my ex and I were good friends and just didn’t like being married to each other. We were best friends before we got married, and I’m happy to say today that I consider him a good friend again.
A lot of that is due to his wife and my children’s stepmother, Lynn.
A STEPMOTHER IS A MOM
I became much more understanding of her position when I became a stepmom myself to my husband’s children. It forced me to constantly see two sides of every experience and story, as now I could completely relate to her position.
Being a stepmom is hard. Your love is no less than that of a biological parent. But everyone second guesses you.
People often assume you broke up the marriage or that you love your biological children more than your “adopted” children.
Films and fairy tales love to paint the stepmom as evil or wicked, even capable of murder. Stepmother’s are jealous, vicious creatures out to keep the father all to themselves and steal the family fortune, if we are to believe these myths and legends.
But most stepmothers and stepfathers are far from evil. In fact, most are trying to be a good parent and spouse just like everyone else. They are trying to love their children, regardless of who birthed them. I love ALL my babies. I am proud to be their stepmother and their mother.
Families come in many shapes and sizes. My wish for the world is to stop expecting mothers or fathers to look, act, or be a certain way. Two moms, two dads, no parents, single parents. Everyone just doing the best job they can to help their children, and each other.
With the boys now on their own, Lynn and I don’t see each other very often. It’s a big change from when the boys were young, when we had weekly if not daily interactions at school, sports, or other activities. It was amazing how sometimes it took all four of us to manage the boys’ schedules.
MOTHERS SUPPORTING EACH OTHER
Today, we both miss having our boys close to us. We both give motherly advice, and worry about girlfriends, or wonder when we will have grandchildren. She continues to bake her famous Monster Cookies that are the boys’ favorite treat. Last year, I hosted Thanksgiving for us all at our new house on the coast.
I think our sons are better having both of us in their lives.
The other day, Lynn texted me, telling me how she’d had a bad day and went on my website looking for inspiration.
“Hey there! Just wanted to say thank you. I needed a pick me up today. Just finished listening to your interview on fierce feminine leadership, and it was awesome. Love that you’re doing this. Thank you for inspiring people every day”
Reading this, I stopped breathing. And then, started crying.
This woman could easily hate me or at most tolerate me, and no one would blame her. Instead, Lynn is one of my greatest fans. She is always giving me positive, validating feedback on what I’m doing. This is truly a woman intentionally supporting another woman.
I inspire her?
She amazes me.
I have watched her embrace and learn a new career, working her ass off going to school while working full time. I have watched her grow into this amazing woman and mother.
After 20 years of sharing and parenting these boys, we are now friends.
No, we are family.
From one evil stepmom to another, thank you.
You are a gift.
