My son does not want me to talk about him. And so, mostly, I don't. But here is the thing: My son has a long and ever changing list of things he does not want me to do, many of which, I do regularly, with aplomb. This list includes:
Never use the word 'love' to me.
I told you not to send me anything.
You can't be calling me all the time.
Don't call me 'Chris'. That is not my name.
Don't send me any books.
Don't send me any money.
Don't tell anyone my sister helped me.
Don't talk about me to people.
Don't come here.
Don't ask me to travel.
Don't expect me to live in your reality.
Ok, maybe it is not that long, now that I think of it. It is just kind of tidal. He will specifically ask me to send an item, I will search for it, send, then he will receive it and say "I told you not to send me things".
Today, I am 'talking' about him. Yeah, I admit that occasionally I have talked about him a bit, either in private conversations to a trusted few, or cryptically without revealing openly that I was referring to Chris. But something has changed. That something is my view of the situation. In light of that new viewpoint, I feel I can go ahead and talk about him.
Once again, I can not reach Chris - for over a month. Also, for a few months, I have considered him to be 'slipping' as in slipping out of what we call sanity and into that dreaded place, tangled in the veil.... from which one never returns.... or... is dragged out by love ... or drugs.
Since Chris lives so very far away from me, I can not just swing by and say hello. I have spent the last many years beating myself up for not going to see him and for not insisting he come live closer to me (oh, I have suggested that - it is on the 'don't even go there' list above).
Sometimes when I am in a panic, I search for someone to go check on Chris - a neighbor, a friend.... the problem is - no one wants to go confront 'a crazy guy'.
Now Chris has an advocate who checks on him once a month. She is not allowed to tell me anything about him except in an emergency. It gives me some comfort to know that this, apparently, is not that - an emergency, since she is not telling me so.
Ok, so this is what has changed. I have been talking about Chris (and about me) to a loved one. A new light has been shown on the situation and now I realize that - yeah - I have been expecting Chris to live in my reality. This one - the one we all agree on as reality. You know, I think there is no clear line between sanity and insanity. It is not like "ok, you are sane, you are sane, this one.... ah... according to the latest standard, this one measures a 3.7 on the brainalyzer... he is insane." No, it is more like there are people who are stark raving mad and as such, must be contained for their own or or our own good, and there are people who dwell rather solidly in this thing we revere: the norm. And then there are those who are wandering in - or in and out of - the veil. The veil is just that... not a barbed wire fenced off boundary, but an ethereal and yes, imaginary vapor of degree of non actual separation.
As Chris' mom, I worry. Yeah. And I nag. I am always concerned that he stay out of that dreaded veil. Or that is, I have been. Now I think maybe that is his 'norm'. After all, Chris is 40 years old and has spent at least half of that time somewhere other than clearly hiking through normalsville. When and where will his journey lead him? When and where will it end? I don't know. But I now realize that this is, in fact, his journey and I am no longer going to endeavor to save him from himself. That is to say, I will still help him in various ways. I will just start, for now, honoring that last thing on the above list: "Don't expect me to live in your reality".
Yeah, I worry. That is what moms do, apparently. But I worry about all my children. No matter what Chris did or who he was, I would worry. Heck, I have spent the last 20 years worrying - and it has taken a dreadful toll... on my health, on my marriage, on my other children (on my parenting abilities and focus) on my careers, on my life - on me! I think it has also taken a toll on Chris.
I now realize that more than anything else, I can give Chris respect. Oh, I have respected him. I am actually far more proud of my son than one might realize. After all, he has survived this condition and lived a decent life, sometimes caring for others and mainly, never hurting anyone. That alone is a great accomplishment. He has been a good friend at times, to me, and we have enjoyed some long heart to heart conversations. He has been supportive in some dark hours... in many ways, Chris is my son, just like any mother's son. What I realize now is that I can just take 'in many ways' out of the equation. Chris is Chris. He is who he is. (I am endeavoring not to make sure here that it is clear that I worry and care and all that good motherly stuff I 'should') I miss him. I hope he calls me one day or answers the phone when I call.
One thing I realize is that asking Chris to 'be sane' so that, say, the cops will not beat him to death or shoot him is like asking a child to 'be white' for the same reason. Uh... no. Instead, perhaps I should be lobbying for humanity toward all.
Chris' struggles, then, are part of his path. Just as my struggles are part of mine. I feel like I have spent a long time struggling against something that simply is. I guess what I can give him now is acceptance.
As for why I now believe I can talk about it... that is because, like Chris, I need to be accepted for who I am. Talking about stuff is what I do. More than that.. but, yeah.
Ok, so I am new at this new way of looking at the situation. Describing it is apparently beyond me for now... hey, baby steps.
