Showing posts with label anger. Show all posts
Showing posts with label anger. Show all posts

Monday, August 22, 2011

that the works of God might be displayed

"As he went along, he saw a man blind from birth.
His disciples asked him, 'Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents,
that he was born blind?' "
John 9:1, 2

It's been a tough weekend. It seems like each day I encountered another person who implied (or maybe I just inferred) that if I had been a better Christian, a better mother, that this would not have happened. I am seeing a pattern here - I only feel bad about myself, question my decisions, when I am interacting with religious people.

By the time Sunday evening rolled around, all I wanted to do was curl up in bed and pull the covers over my head. Fortunately I had made plans with a good friend, who ended up spending the evening lifting me out of the self-pitying funk that I was in. (Ironically, this person does not identify with any religion, which also fits the pattern...)

“ 'Neither this man nor his parents sinned,' said Jesus,
'but this happened so that the works of God might be displayed in him.' "
John 9:3

Thank You, God, for sending your Son to be our example.

And thank you for all the wonderful friends, religious and not, who have shown me nothing but love and support.

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

lest you think I am a cold-hearted b****

After re-reading my last posting, I thought, "Geez, I sound like a cold-hearted b****." I feel like I should give a little background.

I was terrified at the thought of my daughter coming home.

Before she was hospitalized (and before I knew about the drug activity), my daughter had been difficult, to say the least. She was sullen, sneaking around, not doing her chores or homework. She had hacked into my laptop and was skyping with a boy late at night doing God-knows-what. I was constantly having to get on her about not making us late for appointments. I had asked her to try to find a job but she didn't. She just sat and watched tv most days so I cancelled all but the most basic broadcast channels. Then she spent all her time in her room listening to music and sitting around. She raided her savings account (money she absolutely was not supposed to touch) and bought a disposable cell phone and was spending time talking and texting when she said she was doing other things. And when she would get angry, she would storm out of the house (but she always returned 10-30 minutes later.)

I dreaded the thought of her coming home from the hopsital. I could just imagine her sneaking out, hooking up with her drug friends (and I had no idea who they might be), bringing drugs home. I dreaded the arguments, having to watch her sit around, and being ignored when I tried to get her to meet her responsibilities. Child Protective Services (CPS) had opened up a case on us based on things she told the Emergency Dept. when she was admitted for the suicide attempt and a social worker had already been to my home once. The last thing I wanted to was to have an open and on-going case with CPS as a neglectful parent. I felt helpless.

When I found out my daughter was being discharged, I called the CPS social worker and I think he was surprised to hear from me. (I suspect most parents try to avoid dealing with CPS again once they have been investigated but that's just speculation on my part.) I asked him, legally, what is my responsibility if my daughter a) does drugs , b) runs away, or c) tries to hurt herself.  The answer on all counts was to call the police, make sure they file a report, and let them take her away.

Legal issues aside, I have the privilege of providing a home for my parents. They live with me. If it were just me, I could deal with losing my house, bankruptcy and whatever else came my way. The children's father makes a decent living and would have been able to take over their care full-time. But my parents are retired, on a limited income and buying or even renting a new home is not an option for them. And while I have siblings who would welcome our parents into their homes, they live with me now.

Finally, I don't believe teenagers can anticipate the full consequences of their actions. I felt my daughter needed to understand that her doing drugs was not just about her. I wanted to spell things out for her so that they were crystal clear.

Thankfully, none of those things were necessary during the two or so weeks between discharge from the hospital and admission to the Residential treatment center.

Monday, August 8, 2011

god give me serenity

I am angry tonight.... seething, livid, frustrated... in a way that I have not been in months, maybe years.

I've been angry since I got home from dropping my daughter off at the residential living center. It has nothing to do with her, it's with other people, but I feel like screaming at everyone, kicking the dog (proverbially. I'd never do anything to harm my gentle, sweet dog). Throwing something.

So please God, give me serenity to accept the people I cannot change.
please.
please.
please.