I believe in signs. I believe that when we believe that we are in a quandary or that we need to be going in another direction, the universe will send us a sign. We can't always recognize it, likely it happens many times more often than we can comprehend. But when you see a sign, you really must consider its message.
This week in my writing class, we are supposed to include an imaginary element in a real story. This post is a first draft. Ann Lamott calls them the "shitty first drafts". It's a start.
I would rather stay in my parent group theme. And I've got an idea. One day, very soon after I started going to Parent Group, I took Susanna and her friend Rochelle to Old Navy in Alderwood to shop for clothes. I told them I was going to the Barnes & Noble next door and be back in 45 minutes.
Spring 2000. Danny, age 17, had just had his drug assessment ordered by the Diversion Board with the diagnosis of 'cannabis dependent'. I remained deep in denial, ignoring most all the drug-related incidents of the previous months. I still not believe that my son was significantly using drugs. Even though our home was in chaos and nothing seemed to make any sense. I didn't know what to do but I didn't want to go there. To drug use. Not our family, nope.
But I had a hard time rationalizing the drug assessment result away. As I entered the Barnes & Noble, I glumly went to find the substance abuse section. I sighed, I didn't want to read about drug using teenagers. I had so little time to read, I hated to waste time on that. Truly, I was not interested. But, sigh, I guess I had to. A good parent could not shirk.
So I find the section in the bookstore, shelves of books about teen alcoholism, addiction, criminal activity, marijuana, ecstacy use in clubs, family counseling, faith-based approaches, etc etc. I'm not interested in ANY of this. In fact, I would like it all to go away. But I stared at the titles and willed myself to get with the program.
A middle aged woman bustled in and started to peruse the titles.
"Oh, oh," she whimpered in a quiet small voice, "Oh, I just don't know." She turned to me, "I just can't believe it! Do you have a child that uses drugs?"
I mumble something neutral and indistinct.
She continues "I am worried just sick about my daughter, she's living with this drug dealer, I'm trying to get her to stop! I live in Sequim and I have to come over almost every day!"
I really don't want to hear her story but I'm not going to have a choice.
"I know that she's using cocaine but it might be meth. I don't know! Such a beautiful girl too. I try to help her however I can! It's the least I can do to pay her rent, get her back on her feet. The last place I got her in Kirkland, I don't know what happened but things got busted up maybe by some of those nasty guys and she's disappeared! I don't know where she is! That's why I had to come over today...to try to find her. I've got to make sure she's safe. I just don't know what to do....." She started sobbing.
I just looked at her.
"My counselor says that I need to find a book on codependency," she muttered.
No kidding, I thought, even I could see that she was hugely codependent. Her daughter's destructive actions were destroying the mother as well.
I helped her find a book. Still sniffling, she left on her way to find her adult daughter. Again.
I watched and thought. That's a sign. She's been sent to me as a sign. A sign that shows where I must not go. I must not let that happen to myself.
A heavenly sign sort of picture taken from some website but not sure where.
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