I have shoveling, church, and childcare to attend to this morning, but my mind is on a psychological death.
I thought if I embraced the journey instead of fighting it or easing into it that I would have an easier time. That was stupid. At times all I can do is sit in the pain and confusion and put my trust in God to see me through. It gets hard when responsibilities call and children are hungry. I struggle to focus on the pain, to keep my mind and body calm in the storm and wait for the sun to break through.
I’m learning to let go. So many of my answers have been delivered to me. So many of my needs have been met without my action or thought. I’m living a truly blessed life. I’m learning that the pain is a blessing, a way for me to be better and give me the opportunity to produce good in the world.
Who would have guessed that reminiscing about a 2017 trip to Legoland would trigger my revelation that I’m an alcoholic.
As I was telling a dear friend about an upcoming visit I commented on the taco truck that is on the roof of the nearby Wegman’s. Then I went into the beer selection and exactly which beer I had. I didn’t mention it was the only time Mary was ever able to join us there. I didn’t mention this picture, one of my all time favorites. I didn’t talk about the hours of fun we all had that day. Or how amused Mary was with the little rock band setup. We met friends that day, built, played, and squeezed every ounce of fun out of that place.
Mary was home sick the next time we visited. She’d be gone days later. It’s tough to pull into that parking lot. At least one of my sons feels guilt about us not being home that day. I do too.
All of that, and more, was available to me to talk about, but I chose to focus on the one beer I had.
My friend is the wisest and most perceptive 30-something I know. Without knowing any of the other stories I could tell, she called me out and got me to face why my brain had chosen that as my Legoland memory. It’s a painful weakness to own up to. I’m still reeling from it.
Seventy-two days without a drink and I felt pretty darn good about the journey and the results. I’ve turned down offers without a fuss, cruised through ebullient holidays, and spent time in bars without anxiety. I’ve lost weight, have more energy, and my mind is clearer on hard questions than it has been in more than 20 years. In fact, I feel younger and more excited about life than I have in a long time.
I hadn’t thought about the “Am I an alcoholic?” question since I first began this particular journey. At that time I didn’t think of the label as helpful and had the goal of gaining control of my own urges and getting to a place where I didn’t have to place a prohibition on myself. But it was brought to my attention that I still fondly recall many stories and their boozy components. I hadn’t thought of how alcohol permeated my history and memory. I hadn’t noticed a tone of longing for those days when I thought I was in control. A time when I had the right literary quotes (Hemingway’s “I drink to make other people more interesting.” was a favorite), sincere apologies, and, most importantly, the hubris to continue doing whatever I wanted.
None of that worked. I got a DUI and nearly killed a girl in the process, there was a baby seat in the back, fortunately empty at the time. I should have gotten dozens more. I was put in the drunk tank one night. I mistreated friends, lovers, and family. I wasn’t the husband or father I could have been. My wife and sons deserved better of me. I deserved better of me.
For every amusing anecdote, there are ten pathetic tales of a guy who put drinking above the things that he claimed were important to him. Maybe more. Certainly more.
As it was put to me, “If it walks like a duck…”
It’s even hard to write now. I’m an alcoholic. It makes me sick to see so many of my weaknesses and frailties right now. My self-discovery journey has been uplifting, but it has not been without some pitch black moments. At least I know that I’ve gotten through all the other valleys and I’ll emerge out of this one stronger and better equipped to be a positive force in the world.
My wife and I hadn’t discussed homeschooling and hadn’t even heard of unschooling nor deschooling when our elder son became eligible for kindergarten. A series of hiccups, annoyances, and coincidences inspired us to look at all the options we could imagine. My mind was set as I thought, “If I can’t teach him a kindergarten material, I’m a worthless dad.” We committed to a (school) year of homeschooling with the goal of honestly reevaluating at the end of it. We didn’t have a clear philosophy nor curriculum and were questioning ourselves within a month. The reevaluations came on a regular basis, never scheduled, but imposed by our failures. We talked through all the mistakes and started to see that we could work through minor adversities to discover major rewards. We didn’t stop at the end of that school year, we had established rhythms of learning and saw no reason to disrupt them. The evaluations continued, as did the failures, but our eyes lifted from the day-to-day struggles and gazed out to see what our goals were. It would be two more summers before my boys knew what “summer vacation” meant.
Our sons had shown an inherently strong capacity for learning, that part was relatively easy. What we wanted to model was thoughtfulness, confidence, kindness, and a capacity to love and help others. Although a useful shortcut for the uninitiated, we dropped the term “homeschool” in our personal discussions as we were not creating our version of school, we were practicing a learning lifestyle. Our faith community became a huge part of our mission. Not only could we bring cans of soup on Sunday, but we could hop on the trucks on Monday morning and go visit the people and places that benefited from the donations. We could spend a quiet Friday cleaning up a local park or setting up tables for the church rummage sale. Opportunity was to be had any day of the week.
We continue to find chances to help and broaden our ability to do so. We’ve learned immeasurable lessons along the way and achieved some good along the path.
Okay, not entirely. My sons have actually begun a class with the goal of putting on a production of William Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar. Pages Alive Theater brings classic literature to students and guides them to bring the stories to life on stage for local audiences.
Disclosure: Some of the links below are affiliate links, meaning, at no additional cost to you, I will earn a commission if you click through and make a purchase.
I bring the unschool factor, sometimes inappropriately, and recently discovered Wisecrack‘s Thug Notes. NSFW, nor children, but it is hilarious and quickly hits the main points of the plot. Please review this before sharing it, as it represents the most base of my educational techniques.
My sons are excited about stop motion Lego films, we dug into those next.
If I can’t find the play currently on stage (this type of prep work is usually done in anticipation of a live production), I’ll look around for a solid film production. Marlon Brando’s Caesar has been recommended to me and I think we’ll give it a shot.
If you are looking for a way to engage your children in classic literature, try one or more of these methods. They can also be a great way for adults to catch up on the beautiful material that their own schooling had no idea how to present. My sons maximize their recall when they compare different versions of a story, and the different choices made by authors, illustrators, directors, actors, and costume designers will lead to fascinating discussions.
The deepest way to investigate a text is to act it out. This is most true for children who are dying (quite literally in Shakespeare) to play in the adult world. With no stage experience myself, I am eternally grateful for organizations like Pages Alive Theater for providing this type of enrichment.
Disclosure: Some of the links below are affiliate links, meaning, at no additional cost to you, I will earn a commission if you click through and make a purchase.
The new Harry Potter Lego sets are very nice looking. They have lots of interesting colors, new elements, and dreadfully large stickers. We’ve always had a tricky relationship with Lego stickers. They’re high-quality and will survive a couple readjustments, but they can be a devil to position just right. Often they’ll also limit the reusability of an element, getting in the way of imaginative free-building.
Some of the stickers for the Great Hall set are attractive and vital to the ambiance of Hogwarts. They’re also huge and an extra challenge to place accurately. A friend suggested I use Windex on the element to allow more movement before committing to a placement.
I applied the spray to a paper towel and then wiped it on
the Lego piece. I discovered that you can be liberal in how much you use as the
Windex evaporates quickly and doesn’t get too slick while trying to position.
Without the usual quick-adhering of the sticker, I was able
to get it just right before smoothing it down. I had much easier success with
this method than in the past, but decided to test what it would be like if I
had made a mistake after smoothing out. A gentle push with flat-edged metal
tweezers brought the edge of the sticker up and caused no damage to it.
I’m very happy with the playability, attractiveness, and
complexity of this set. And now I can be happy with how the stickers are
placed!
In the last few days I’ve connected with friends and family and built on existing love and trust. I’ve found new friends in which to trust and build relationships. I’ve explored my trust in God and found that he is working in my life in remarkable, unexpected ways. In trusting Him I have been more able to let events unfold before me and let my place in them occur without pushing or prodding with my own desires. I’ve started to let go of my drive to control and instead listen and find the path meant for me. God has been very good to me. I pray that I can keep the wisdom to continue listening.
I didn’t know what to expect from Sight & Sound Theatres‘ production, “Jesus.” What I got was a refresher on how I should conduct myself in the world.
There was some license taken with the Bible and one confrontation stood out to me as important. Jesus attacks the Pharisees for choosing religion in place of spirituality. My Jesus is the Word and the Word is truthful speech. It’s what creates reality, from Genesis to each time we speak. When I feel the Holy Spirit I feel full of the Word. That’s the root of my spiritual experience and it doesn’t need religion to propagate. Religion fails when people place themselves between you and your spiritual experience. Religion prospers when it facilitates that experience.
Assumptions and expectations took a beating in 2018. When I suddenly lost my wife I had assumptions about how I would rebuild my life. I assumed I would find a new wife and that we would have a slightly inferior life to the idealized marriage I had with Mary.
After a few months, I gained confidence and moved those expectations a few notches toward the goal of having a stronger marriage than I had before. I found independence in my adventures with my sons and enough patience to wait for “the one.”
Ten months a widower, I met someone who asked for “intentions” in place of “expectations.” It seemed easy enough, I’d been intent on treating humans as individuals deserving of love. I’d been gifted boundless love and intended to share it.
In practice, I started to actively take note of my expectations and assumptions and substitute them with clear intentions. This became painful as I felt my future imposing itself on my present; or rather, my expectations were getting in the way of my intentions.
I’m working hard to curb expectation and live an intentional life. It has lead me into new ways of thinking and being. It has disrupted my thought process and made me happier than I would have imagined months ago, regardless of many pitfalls along the way.
Do you still want a new marriage?
I don’t know. I’ve got so much yet to discover about myself. I’ve got impossible things to accomplish. I’ve got a world of possibilities and the curiosity to pour myself into it. I’ve got a house full of boys who thoroughly enjoy being in a house full of boys. I’ve got a lot of love around me.
Macbeth, Pericles, Twelfth Night, Much Ado About Nothing, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Merchant of Venice, As You Like It, and various Shakespeare readings: my sons have seen or participated in all of these plays, most of them before losing their mother.
Experiencing Shakespeare in person places a wide range of human emotion on display: joy, passion, betrayal, murder, love, humor, wonder, deception, innocence, ignorance, jealousy, and loss. I am convinced that this controlled introduction to intense emotion provided my children with the tools they needed to navigate the equally broad spectrum of feelings that we have experienced this year.
