A Do Over

I had completely forgotten about this and then, recently, something jogged my memory. I may have written about it before but I am getting old and my memory doesn't serve me as well as it used to.

My boy was starting his second year of college without a car. He didn't seem to care and it saved a lot of money on parking permits etc., but it meant that we had to move him up there. Four of us started the journey North but only 3 of us completed it.

From Southern California to U.C. Santa Cruz is about 6 hours of nothingness. The central valley is large, hot and full of farms and not much else. 

Our marriage was already troubled for multiple reasons, some of which I was aware and some that were hidden. The Secret Keeper had already been through a stay in a care center for alcohol related issues but life was still just crazy. We all knew it but none of knew quite how explain it all. I thought a lot of it was extreme anxiety that was making his life miserable. I felt for him but I also resented what had become of our lives. Insanity.

Half way into the trip, on The 5 (one of our busiest interstate highways), I say something to the Secret Keeper and pat his leg. I notice an odd shaped container in his pocket. I ask him to exit the freeway and stop at the gas station so I can talk to him. I hear my heart beating loudly in my ears and feel the tightening of my core. He exits the freeway and as he gets out of the car he throws the container under the car. Now, I may be naive but I was not born yesterday, so I get out of the car and pull him aside. An argument ensues and, me, being the frightened crazy control freak that I was, told him I was going anywhere with him. How dare he mess up what was suppose to be a happy time for our boy. I called son #2, who had stayed home, and asked him to come get his father while we continued on the journey. It was going to be a 3 to 4 hour journey, one way, for son #2 but all I knew was that I wasn't going anywhere with that man. I had had to live with an alcoholic growing up and I was not tolerating another minute sitting next to this one. It hurt son # 1 and my youngest who were on the journey. It hurt son #2 as he shared many of my fears but my fears can make me an incredibly self centered person.

I regret how I handled myself. I regret that I could not have been more kind. I did the best I could at the time but I wish I had had better tools to cope. Now I understand my extreme reactions stem from the abandonment and pain of my childhood, the fear of not knowing what an alcoholic might do next. Now I might have been able to have great boundaries while still respecting his personhood. Who knows....

I wish there were "do overs" but there is not. Hopefully we live, learn and keep getting better.