The Gates of Hell
I say the gates of hell are open when my son has a mental crisis which is usually mixed with substance abuse as well. It has been a rough couple of days. Writing helps. So I’m going to try as hard as I can to stay focused and write. Any little distraction will do for procrastinations sake…. My cat attacking my pen. He just recently came out of hiding due to the chaos. There’s also the butter that melted into the pen holder so that every pen or pencil I pull out is coated with grease. These things happen due to the tiny space I live in. The specs of stuff and cat litter on the floor which the ants like to rummage through for crumbs and no matter how many times I sweep there’s always more. And the drops of rain that are hitting the tin can I live in in just such a loud way I feel like someone is tapping on my head with each drop. The day it seems is crying along with me. A shivering grey rainy Autumn day. A day of grief and mourning.
My 29-year-old son is gone. He’s still among the living but I am preparing myself for the day he may indeed die. I’ve been here before so many times. Then hope comes back only to be taken away over and over. Kind of makes a mom not want to hope anymore. But I cannot stay in a hopeless place. If hope, even the slightest glimmer, knocks at my camper door I must let it in and try again. Even though I know that I may receive a new scar on my heart.
Im trembling now reliving what happened just a day ago. The fresh memory a dark deafening tornado of angry hurtful words flying around and around in my mind. Moving so fast I can’t make sense of it. All I can pull from this are questions about deserving love.
My son left me with, as he has many times over, horrible drunken words. Dont they say alcohol is a truth serum? I am a terrible Mother. I made him this way. I am a terrible Mother. I didn’t love him enough. I am a terrible Mother. All I ever did was criticize him. I am a terrible Mother. It’s my fault he has relationship problems. I am a terrible Mother even though I struggled too with mental health problems and never received help. I did the best I could. I am a terrible Mother even though my husband was an alcoholic and barely available. I tried to be both Mother and Father and I probably made things worse. I did the best I could. Is saying I did the best I could a cop out? What does a person do when they don’t know anything more than the best they can do? How do you get better than the best you can do? I read every book I could get my hands on about being better than the best you can do. I couldn’t talk to people because…well…I couldn’t talk to people. I did try but it didn’t go well. I always got the feeling like I was complaining. Well now I don’t give a fuck. I’m putting my shit out there in all it’s emotional battered darkness.
This country is nothing but a facade. A lie. Advertising and lies. I’m talking about mental help and addiction help. Pamphlets say there’s help. Ads say there’s help. Books say there’s help. It’s all a lie. Unless of course you have the money. Oh sure we little folk do have places to get help but most of them are just in it for the money too and don’t really give a fuck about you. There are a lucky few that actually get something out of the system but most wind up medicated zombies. Because they’re nothing but legal fancy drug pushers for the pharm boss. If you’ve been through the system you know what I mean. Something doesn’t feel quite right. Trust your gut.
It seems like you cant trust anything anymore. The medical system, the legal system, of course the corporations, the internet, our food, every other phone call is a scam, etc… It’s enough to make people on the edge step off. And they are. These are the things stopping me from stepping off the edge. My family and my first Medium story, Am I Real?. In it I explain how I felt God. I know God is there. After this experience I can step back and know this is just a crazy ride of human experience. I know I can get off this ride anytime I want so why not just keep going with this experience learning what I can. Maybe I’ll even gain some Wisdom in the process. Maybe I’ll actually help someone like me. Someone whose crazy ride is just beginning. Jesus chose the full human experience without giving up. I’m not a religious person but I am very spiritual. I have to believe there is a reason for me being here.
Earlier in the day before the chaos began or should I say got worse I was at work and I ran into a coworker. I’ve had a few conversations with her over the years. Yes, just a few over the years. You see I have a very hard time communicating with people. I can’t just chitchat. It’s exhausting for me. So our few conversations were very long. By the time we were done all the cars in the parking lot were gone. I felt I connected with her but not enough for me to believe that she actually liked to talk to me. Yes, the fact that our convo was so long didn’t seem to make me realize that either. The voice in my head was telling me otherwise. So I kind of avoided her as I do most of my coworkers. But back to the day I ran into her. The day the gates of hell opened with my son. I overheard she was leaving in a few days so I had to say my goodbyes. As I started talking to her I found out her mother had unexpectedly died and her son got married within a few days of each other. She made a point to say she was now suddenly alone. She said more than once she was nervous and scared. She was leaving to live in another state and wasn’t sure what she was even going to do but she decided it was time to fly. What courage I thought! Here’s the thing though. I was able for the first time to keep eye contact with another person without feeling uncomfortable and didn’t lose track of what was being said to boot. (Well, except for my cat but I think he’s just trying to hypnotize me into giving him treats). It was an amazing feeling! I felt like we were talking with our eyes. What a connection! Is this something people do all the time? Maybe my head just happened to be in the right place at the time. I don’t know. It was almost like our soul spark connected as Ram Dass is always talking about…
“We look into one another’s eyes and we recognize each other. Across time, across space, independent of all of the forms of the dance. Two souls meeting. Are you in there? I’m in here.”
The little spark that is in all of us. The God Particle. Her eyes said she was scared but they were also comforting like she or her soul spark knew what I was in for later that day. Like she was saying we’re in this together. I know it sounds nutty but I felt it as sure I felt God before. I hope my eyes, my spark, gave her comfort too. Later that day in the midst of the crisis I kept remembering her eyes or rather, seeing them in my mind. I can still see them and feel the comfort they gave me.
I realize now what I’ve been missing in this human experience. The connection of spirit through eyes. I mean I can’t even look at a person’s eyes in another car that I’m passing. I know now that no words can even touch the communication that the eyes convey. What a curse people on the spectrum have then!
So to try and get through this very painful experience with my son I am going to try and look more into peoples eyes. Especially my son’s. Look for the spark. Maybe if I can do this the answers I seek will be found in the Souls unspoken words of the eyes.
