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.
This is beautiful.