I subscribe to an e-mail newsletter by Mark Gregston, who is an author, speaker, national radio host, and the founder of Heartlight, a residential counseling center in Texas for struggling adolescents. Yesterday, his most recent newsletter arrived in my e-mail inbox.
The subject of the newsletter was "Never Give Up Parenting a Difficult Teen." One paragraph of the newsletter especially screamed out to me, so I thought I'd share it here. I need to start following this great advice:
"It’s easy to be so overwhelmed by problems with your teen’s behavior that you fail to recognize any progress. Progress is not 'problem solved.' Progress means steady improvement. So, if your child is screaming at you every day, and then only yells at you once every other day – then that’s progress! Finishing some of his homework, when he previously did no homework, is progress. Effective parenting requires that you look at the big picture while focusing on just a few problems at a time; then applauding any progress, no matter how small. Refuse to make your teen’s lack of a complete turnaround to be your constant disappointment. Turnarounds rarely happen overnight. Instead, applaud every step in the right direction, even if it is a small one."
Pretty damn enlightening, if I do say so myself.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
One of those days
Today is one of those days. Ever since I woke up this morning, my head has been filled with negativity. I keep asking myself stuff like, “Where did I screw up? Or, “Am I just a terrible parent?” Or, “Is it all my fault?” All the stuff I’m not supposed to feel is stuff I’m feeling today. And I hate it.
I’ve been trying really hard to be more positive lately. But I’m human. The negative thoughts do enter my mind. And when they do, they tend to put me in a pretty nasty headlock.
A friend of mine posted a quote on his Facebook page yesterday:
“Positivity is complex and draining yet fruitful. Negativity is simple and lazy yet worthless.”
I need to get out of this funk today and try and remember that quote more often. Maybe I should have it tattooed on my forehead or something.
I’ve been trying really hard to be more positive lately. But I’m human. The negative thoughts do enter my mind. And when they do, they tend to put me in a pretty nasty headlock.
A friend of mine posted a quote on his Facebook page yesterday:
“Positivity is complex and draining yet fruitful. Negativity is simple and lazy yet worthless.”
I need to get out of this funk today and try and remember that quote more often. Maybe I should have it tattooed on my forehead or something.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
No smoking
It's just before midnight on Sunday, October 11th. I just realized a few minutes ago that I quit smoking exactly 19 years ago today. That's 6,940 days ago. And I haven't cheated once. Best thing I ever did for myself. And something I'm very proud of.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Three out of four ain't bad
Today was a beautiful day in southeastern Michigan: partly sunny and 55 degrees or so. It was the perfect day for a family trip to the cider mill, and that's what my wife and I tried to pull off. Unfortunately, one member of our family (guess who) couldn't get out of bed.
We tried a couple of times to light a fire under him, but we were unsuccessful. Disappointing? Yes. But instead of letting that put the kibosh on the cider mill trip, we decided to just leave him at home. So my wife and I took our youngest son to the cider mill, drank some cider, ate some warm, greasy donuts, and then stopped and had a late lunch/early dinner on the way home.
Even though the family was only three-quarters complete, today's trip was sort of refreshing. We didn't let the actions of my oldest son change our plans for the day, and that seems like a big step forward for us.
We tried a couple of times to light a fire under him, but we were unsuccessful. Disappointing? Yes. But instead of letting that put the kibosh on the cider mill trip, we decided to just leave him at home. So my wife and I took our youngest son to the cider mill, drank some cider, ate some warm, greasy donuts, and then stopped and had a late lunch/early dinner on the way home.
Even though the family was only three-quarters complete, today's trip was sort of refreshing. We didn't let the actions of my oldest son change our plans for the day, and that seems like a big step forward for us.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Dishonesty
We've had some issues with dishonesty in our house lately. Sometimes--actually, most of the time--dishonesty can hurt even more than the addiction. I never thought I would say that, but it's true. Honesty, along with trust, is such an important part of any relationship. And when I discover that my son hasn't been truthful with me, it's like a punch in the gut.
I have given so much of myself over the last few years to try and help my son. Asking for honesty in return seems like such a small thing. But dishonesty is indeed a part of the makeup of an addict. I was reminded of that by this passage from Addict in the Family: Stories of Loss, Hope, and Recovery:
"Closely related to denial is dishonesty. Dishonesty encompasses the evasiveness and lies, big and small, that addicts employ in their attempts to control the world . . . A small joke that hints at the denial and dishonesty at the heart of an addict's world goes like this: An alcoholic will steal your wallet and lie about it. A drug addict will steal your wallet, then help you look for it."
I often wonder if I will ever be able to totally trust my son again. I would love to get to a place in our relationship where I don't have to stop and wonder if what he's telling me is the truth or just another fabrication. But right now, that place seems so far away. And that really hurts.
I have given so much of myself over the last few years to try and help my son. Asking for honesty in return seems like such a small thing. But dishonesty is indeed a part of the makeup of an addict. I was reminded of that by this passage from Addict in the Family: Stories of Loss, Hope, and Recovery:
"Closely related to denial is dishonesty. Dishonesty encompasses the evasiveness and lies, big and small, that addicts employ in their attempts to control the world . . . A small joke that hints at the denial and dishonesty at the heart of an addict's world goes like this: An alcoholic will steal your wallet and lie about it. A drug addict will steal your wallet, then help you look for it."
I often wonder if I will ever be able to totally trust my son again. I would love to get to a place in our relationship where I don't have to stop and wonder if what he's telling me is the truth or just another fabrication. But right now, that place seems so far away. And that really hurts.
Friday, September 25, 2009
No Friday night lights for me
It's Friday, and tonight was the big local high school football game between the two crosstown rivals: Grosse Pointe North (the high school I graduated from 30 years ago) and Grosse Pointe South (the high school my son attended).
Earlier today a friend of mine e-mailed me at work and invited me to go to the game with him. I thought about it for a minute, then e-mailed him back and told him I probably wouldn't be going. Instead of making a lame excuse, I was just totally honest with him:
"maybe i'll come. but i'll be perfectly honest with you...going to high school events after what i went through with [my son's name] at south is really, really hard for me. that probably sounds dumb, but it's just something i struggle with. so don't be surprised if i don't show up."
After I sent that e-mail, I wondered if what I said would sound crazy to my friend. But I felt some comfort when I remembered a passage from the book Addict in the Family: Stories of Loss, Hope, and Recovery by Beverly Conyers (which I've quoted in my blog before). I happened to have that book with me at work, so I pulled it out of my backpack and re-read the passage I was thinking of:
"Todd scratched his head, causing the silver-brown hair to stand on end. He took a long time getting to his next point, which for him seemed to be the most difficult. 'I listen to our friends talk about what their kids are doing: graduating from college, starting careers, getting married and settling down. Normal stuff, you know? I just change the subject. What did they know that I didn't? Where did I go wrong?'"
Unfortunately, this is something I struggle with almost every day. Seeing "normal," well-adjusted kids around my son's age is hard. Being around their parents? That's even harder. It's why I avoided the graduation parties when my son's class graduated last summer. It's why I have trouble hearing my friends talk about their kids' high school and college activities. And it's why I just don't feel like going to the local high school football games. All those normal kids and normal parents in one place? Man, that would just smother me.
A few hours later, my friend e-mailed me back, and the words in his reply made me realize that he is indeed a good friend:
"That is not dumb at all. I thought of that potential issue when I invited you. I am sure almost everyone would have those same thoughts."
It felt so good to know that somebody else understood how I felt.
Earlier today a friend of mine e-mailed me at work and invited me to go to the game with him. I thought about it for a minute, then e-mailed him back and told him I probably wouldn't be going. Instead of making a lame excuse, I was just totally honest with him:
"maybe i'll come. but i'll be perfectly honest with you...going to high school events after what i went through with [my son's name] at south is really, really hard for me. that probably sounds dumb, but it's just something i struggle with. so don't be surprised if i don't show up."
After I sent that e-mail, I wondered if what I said would sound crazy to my friend. But I felt some comfort when I remembered a passage from the book Addict in the Family: Stories of Loss, Hope, and Recovery by Beverly Conyers (which I've quoted in my blog before). I happened to have that book with me at work, so I pulled it out of my backpack and re-read the passage I was thinking of:
"Todd scratched his head, causing the silver-brown hair to stand on end. He took a long time getting to his next point, which for him seemed to be the most difficult. 'I listen to our friends talk about what their kids are doing: graduating from college, starting careers, getting married and settling down. Normal stuff, you know? I just change the subject. What did they know that I didn't? Where did I go wrong?'"
Unfortunately, this is something I struggle with almost every day. Seeing "normal," well-adjusted kids around my son's age is hard. Being around their parents? That's even harder. It's why I avoided the graduation parties when my son's class graduated last summer. It's why I have trouble hearing my friends talk about their kids' high school and college activities. And it's why I just don't feel like going to the local high school football games. All those normal kids and normal parents in one place? Man, that would just smother me.
A few hours later, my friend e-mailed me back, and the words in his reply made me realize that he is indeed a good friend:
"That is not dumb at all. I thought of that potential issue when I invited you. I am sure almost everyone would have those same thoughts."
It felt so good to know that somebody else understood how I felt.
Friday, September 18, 2009
My son's lyrics just moved me to tears
So I'm sitting at work today. Just a few minutes ago, in fact. And I'm listening to music on my iPod Shuffle. And a song that my son wrote and recorded a couple of years ago comes on in my headphones. I had forgotten all about this song, which is very Elliott Smith-esque. But I listened to it very carefully. Three times. The lyrics brought tears to my eyes. They're just so damn honest. Painful to listen to or read. But so brutally honest. I just wanted to share them.
"REVELATION"
Plastic sunset on a boulevard
Lights up diamonds
Drops of blood on a playing card
Held in hand
When the needle starts to rust
I won't need to find a vein
Was it love or was it lust?
Guess it's all the same
How can this be happening now?
It's too loud
My head is spinning
I'm off the ground
Am I living or dead?
I don't know how I got here
Nowhere
So fast
When the faucet spits out blood
I'll find new ways to
Wash my hands
Everybody's got a reason to
Reprimand
I'm lonely, I'm so lonely
How can I live this way?
Social butterfly with broken wings
Do you feel the pain?
How can this be happening now?
Not now
I'm too young
I haven't got enough clout
To black out
The sun
I got a feeling I'm not
What I could have been.
"REVELATION"
Plastic sunset on a boulevard
Lights up diamonds
Drops of blood on a playing card
Held in hand
When the needle starts to rust
I won't need to find a vein
Was it love or was it lust?
Guess it's all the same
How can this be happening now?
It's too loud
My head is spinning
I'm off the ground
Am I living or dead?
I don't know how I got here
Nowhere
So fast
When the faucet spits out blood
I'll find new ways to
Wash my hands
Everybody's got a reason to
Reprimand
I'm lonely, I'm so lonely
How can I live this way?
Social butterfly with broken wings
Do you feel the pain?
How can this be happening now?
Not now
I'm too young
I haven't got enough clout
To black out
The sun
I got a feeling I'm not
What I could have been.
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