Grief In A Box

I wrote 1000 words about my son's addiction. I won't be publishing it for a few reasons.

Last week, before and after a meeting with one of my sons, I wrote a piece about his struggles with addiction and the wear and tear on relationships it’s caused. Mostly the relationship between we two.

But I won’t be publishing that. It was a good exercise but it turns out it was mostly a selfish exploration. I needed to vent and blame someone for something. I changed his name and then detailed all the ups and downs.

I put out a note to other writers for some feedback on the idea. I didn’t give them the actual piece because I hadn’t got through it yet. In fact, I still haven’t wrapped it up to my satisfaction and I think that might be impossible as time goes on.

The people who took the time to get back to me questioned why I was ready to publish this kind of thing? What would be the purpose? Did he know he was the subject of the piece?

A couple of writers shared their own experiences with substance addicted friends and family. Just about everyone thought it was of no value to publish the piece.

I came around to that thinking after re-reading what I wrote and coming to terms with the pain and anxiety and the dread and hopelessness that I feel. But it was almost nothing about him, nothing from his perspective.

It took writing it to realize how I’ve neatly compartmentalized the grief. Put it in a mental box and put it on the mental shelf where I know it’s not going to dominate all my daily processes.

At the same time, there it is. Lurking. Occasionally the lid pops off and I have to deal with the on-going saga of all those emotions wanting some oxygen so they can go on taking up space. There’s anger, sadness, guilt, and terror. To name a few.

Everybody deals differently. I’m employing one way going forward that seems to work most of the time. I understand it’s a process and I’ll never be completely clear of it.

And I work to find ways to support his life that don’t entail enabling what I think is self-destructive behaviour.

No big finish or pithy observation to wrap this up. The continuing story marches on, dragging along all who are involved, whether they believe so or not.