Thank you for finally listening to me

It's been five weeks since all this crap fell out, and a day hasn't gone by that I haven't cried, or else willed myself not to. I told you today that it was like our marriage had a broken leg, and you were expecting us to keep going without it being properly set. It's not been that I'm dwelling on the past, or unwilling to forgive and move on, or that I've just overreacted. Until today, those were your sentiments. So thank you for taking me seriously that I'm really crippled here, and that unless we plow through these things, we're going to continue to hobble along on our bum leg. Thank you for holding me and listening while I tried to explain stuff, and for not interrupting me, or refuting me, or asking leading questions. Thanks for not bristling. Thanks even for not replying. I have no idea how my comments struck you, but it was so nice to just get them all out there without censure; I know the bone isn't set yet, that you will have to respond and we will have hashing through it to do. But I felt heard. It opened the window for a little bit of trust to come back into what has been a cold and lonely house. I miss you horribly.

And thank you for being the fabulous father I've known from June05-April07 tonight. You were great talking with Grayson tonight about his accidents and self-destructive life. You were reassuring, and perceptive, and gentle, and humble. That's the man and father and husband and friend and lover that I just adore, the one I had gotten used to. The one I trust.

What I feel like saying

I'm not actually SAYING it, exactly. But it's what I FEEL like saying. I'm sure there's a big difference.

You win. You obviously have a superhuman ability to ignore the obvious and go on living.
I don't.
So based on the last two weeks (and the times earlier in our marriage...OK, maybe almost the entirety of our marriage) I figure you could go on indefinitely like this. It's power by withdrawal. And you win.
You haven't moved out. You haven't initiated seeing a counselor. Heck, you haven't initiated a conversation.


You have me beat on economic advantage, willpower and silence. You've lost my trust and I'm afraid that it might be irreparably so. I hope not, but I'm fearful.

I can't go on living in a cold house. So I guess I'll have to come up with some sort of a compromise system on my own in order to live. I've got to figure out how it works to live together as a dependent person, without trust, while remaining true to oneself. Wow! That's a tough order.

My compromise would look like this:
I'd like to start enjoying what I do enjoy about you, so I'd suggest we start to talk again and be pleasant. This wouldn't be the same as unity, oneness, or intimacy of course. But it could be friendship and companionability, I suppose. Of course, there wouldn't be acts of intimacy, so it would amount to a sort of a separation. But under the same roof. Maybe just acknowleging this arrangement would clear the air, define our expectations, and allow at least pleasantness to return, and open the possibility for the cold air to dissipate.
Meanwhile, I'd pursue my goals, ideas and dreams while you pursue yours. I don't see a way, without trust and intimacy, to pursue joint goals.
I imagine when we disagree we will just fight.

Maybe eventually the separation and fights will take their toll, and we'll actually separate under two roofs. Maybe we'll decide to go to counselliing to try to find our way back to each other, to trust, to intimacy; and we'll finally realize the potential that this marriage has always had. Maybe some crisis will come along that will force us to go one direction (divorce) or the other (marriage, really).

But that's just what I FEEL like saying today. I'm not really saying it though.

status update

Unsettled. I guess that's where we are now. We've said our peace, and there's no real reconciliation of two divergent viewpoints. So where do you go from there? Do we learn to live together and value the differences (my view, and what I feel like we've been doing for the past 1 year, 10 months) or does it get ugly and cold as power struggles --real or imagined-- ensue? At least there's been communication, but even that feels so different from only two weeks ago. Could it really have been only that short a time since I was so happy?

We have an 'event' tonight downtown. What would have been called a date two weeks ago.... in fact, he emailed me an invitation to go with him to it. Tonight, what is it: A mutual obligation? A shared social experience? An uncomfortable occupation of the same place on the planet? A date? I HATE these questions. I want to find the happiness of our 'second marriage'... not regress to this all-too-familiar 'first marriage'. I want him to realize what's driving his current unhappiness with us. I miss him.

Thanks for removing this from your blogroll. I don't mind the ones who are currently here being here...I'm just not out there fishing for readers. Especially ones that might find me from the 365 readership. I invite everyone there...

Happiness is illusory

The marital bliss I've been in the last almost-two years has been a lie. I didn't know it was a lie. I was actually happy. Very happy. I thought that feeling was mutual. I no longer lived in fear, or eggshells, or manipulation. I was moving toward positive goals, toward a positive future. That came to a screeching halt with some pretty deep-seated ugliness this weekend. The hard part now is that I've tasted how good it can be, how deeply I can love this person. I know I cannot go back to the way it was exactly two years ago. We've had all these conversations before. I can't go back to believing what I don't believe. I won't go back to living in fear. And I won't let my kids bear what they shouldn't have to. And he's as determined as ever...as determined as he was two years ago... and so I know the cold nights I have ahead of me if I stay. It is seeming more and more irreconcilable. I lived in hope, but now I'm living with a bitter reality. I'm beyond sad, and beyond tears, really. It all came crumbling down. And now I have no idea what the future holds for us. None. Will I go back to grad school, or will I have to get a job? Will I grow old with this man, or will I call the attorney? I dunno.

If for some reason you list this blog in your blogroll, please remove it. I want this to be a private place where only those who are already connected to it may view. Thanks.

So far, Easter's really a bust.

Bill and I had words last night following an incident with M (in which he stayed out most of the night after telling us he'd be home at 12-1). When I arrived last night at our date, opening night at the baseball stadium, I knew something wasn't right. He was upset with me. So rather than move into pretend mode, I confronted it after we dropped the kids, as we sat in the parking lot. That didn't get us anywhere, and I left in my car and came home without ever entering the ballpark. Bill stayed behind with the kids. I was hoping for an apology when he got home, but it didn't quite play like that. But we did have a long talk to try to get things on better footing. At the end of the night, though, a few things were clearer.
- He has resented for some time that we are not "on the same page" about parenting. This was surprising to me, as we've gone through the past difficult year without conflict, even though we've both viewed things from different perspectives. I've thought that it has worked well: I give him respect and space to operate from his assumptions, and I've felt respected enough to operate from my own assumptions. With goodwill, patience, and good communication, I think our parenting has gone really well. So I'm looking at the situation with nothing but positive feelings, and he's looking at the same situation with negative feelings.
- He is operating from a patriarchal viewpoint (he is the head of the household), and I'm not. That viewpoint is one of the things I jettisoned when I was getting rid of "belief systems that don't work for me". Since jettisoning it, I've felt greater personal responsibility toward my family, greater freedom to know my own mind in a matter, greater authentic respect for Bill, and greater self-respect. He wants very much for me to believe the same way I did; he carries the weight of "responsibility for having the "end-of-the-day last word", and sees that scenario as the way conflicts should be handled (wherein he solicits and evaluates my advice, but if he doesn't go along with it, he makes the final decision based on his own conscience.) I haven't operated that way in several years.
- He has some strange attachment to a midnight curfew being the litmus test of whether I'm supporting him or not. If I can't wholeheartedly buy into it (or at least act to the children like I do), I'm not perceived as supportive, nevermind all the other ways in which I am GENUINELY supportive (with no faking it). I can't buy in. And it's disingenuous to fake some kind of concord I don't have.
- When I have a goal or take a first step on something that is foreign to him (not something he'd enjoy or choose), he is not my cheerleader. As long as it is theoretical he IS, he tells me I can do anything! Or if it's a goal that he believes in, he's fabulously supportive! But when I memorized a monologue and went to an audition, he was very cold to that idea. So for the sake of peace, I gave up on that idea (and because it wasn't a burning passion, but an interest). Now I'm going to my visit with the grad school professor about starting grad school, and he's offering -- instead of a "Go get 'em! You'll do great!" -- a reserved, dispassionate "objective" questioner stance. "I'm not understanding WHY you want this; I'm not seeing that this is the result of a long-held dream; I'm not sure WHAT you're searching for, and what's driving it, and what you want to get out of it".

I really could have used the attagirl.

Easter meditations

I had a few insights this Easter, from the beginning of Lent until now.
- It's easy, in a marriage that is for the most part free of big issues anymore, to begin to settle into a familiarity that starts taking the other for granted, that becomes polite but not passionate. Bill and I had that discussion during Lent and then, when I went to church the following Sunday, it dawned on me that that's true of one's faith as well. When the season of questing and wrestling is more settled, the ardor settles as well, and the sense of the presence of God starts to fade. It isn't as 'real' (even though it IS real) and not as fun...just like the marriage. So finding ways to regain connection takes effort in marriage (and with God). Paths that sometimes lead to intimacy and knowing can, at other times, become stale, and new paths need to be cut.
- There's a period of time between when hope is lost and resurrection occurs. I thought of this on Holy Saturday and photoblogged about it a little. In my life, I can think of several times (two of lifechanging significance) when I saw my dream die. Really truly die. It was over. And I lived in that place, bereft. But hope was around the corner. I couldn't see it. I think you sometimes have to completely lose something (it has to be beaten and crucified, and taken down, and laid to rest, and mourned) before you are ready to find it resurrected in a better form than imaginable before. If you try to shortchange the loss by continually protecting yourself from such a profound loss, you'll never experience the resurrection. No one in their right mind seeks the loss (wants their marriage to end, wants their child to die, wants to be homeless or jobless or diseased, wants to lose their faith) -- but it seems that often it is in retrospect that one can say, despite the bitter loneliness of Holy Saturday, they found resurrection and hope and life and goodness on Easter, and they wouldn't go back. Whether Holy Saturday lasts for them 2 hours or 20 years...they wouldn't go back and change it.
- Without hunger, food doesn't taste as good. When I stay sated, I tend less to be focused on hunger and what positive effect hunger can have in driving me to the thing I most need. Fasting has a way of burning away and cutting to the heart of things. I don't practice it enough, or well. But when I do, I'm instructed by it. It ties in with the other points, too. It is one of those ways to experience bereftness in order to experience joy; it's a path toward learning not to take something for granted.

This was a selection from Gustav Mahler's Finale to the Resurrection Symphony (translated) sung during mass today. I really like it.

Oh believe, my heart, oh believe:
You will lose nothing!
What you wanted, you will have.
What you loved and fought for, you will have.

Oh believe:
You were not born in vain!
You did not live and Suffer in vain!

What was born must die!
What passed away must rise again!
Stop your quaking!
Prepare yourself for living!

Oh pain! You, the all-penetrating!
From you I have escaped.
Oh death! You, the all-compelling!
Now you must yourself submit!

With wings that I have won for myself
In my ardent quest for love,
I will soar up
To the light, to which no eye has beheld!
Die I must, in order to live.
Rise again, yes, rise again you will.
My heart, in one moment!
That which beat you
To God will it carry you.

Vacation with ... friends

Family vacations are great. They're the usual means of travelling, relaxing, and savoring the experiences of vacation. But there's certainly times when family vacations become... tiresome? Sometimes, the personalities with whom I spend most of my waking moments with begin to grate on me. Or there are times when I suddenly realize, my child would really rather be with friends than with family. Or times when just Bill and I would like to get away together sans les enfants. Children grow up, and away, and begin to experience their lives, including vacations, away from parents and siblings. There are times when, gasp, I'd really just rather be by myself, thankyouverymuch.

I don't remember exactly when the first one was, but for the past 6-7 years, Bill and I have begun taking separate vacations, in addition to the ones we take as a family or as a couple. He goes to the beach for a long weekend. I fly off to visit my internet friends. He goes with his best buddies to Utah to ski. I go away for a week of silence at a Jesuit retreat center. He goes off to participate in one of his new passions, adventure racing. And so this easy give and take of individual vacation time has slowly become a healthy part of our life landscape. This year, I thought I'd love to have a week at the beach with just girlfriends....to provide a place at the beach house for my buds to chill together, new and old, ones who live near and ones who live away. So I asked a few close friends to invite one of THEIR close friends, and join me.

And so they've come. So far it's been perfect. We've walked the beach, drunk margueritas, played games, practiced yoga, listened to one share a chapter of a book she's writing, napped in the sun, drunk wine, cooked and cleaned up (no one has to be asked! no one says, "But it's HER turn to take out the trash!"), gone out to eat, petted the dog, drunk tea, laughed ourselves silly, eaten donut holes and ice cream and chocolate, drunk coffee, surfed the web, sketched, made monoprints, worn pajamas all day, sudokued, laughed, drunk whiskey sours, watched a movie and American Idol... In a word we've had fun. And this from people whose only commonality is that they know me or someone who knows me!

In what's shaping up for me to be multiple vacations, there is an ebb and flow here: someone comes, someone leaves, several stay. It's a changing landscape with enough stability of guests to maintain continuity, and enough rotation of fresh faces to keep things interesting. Today Kathy and Judy will leave, but three others will come. My old friend from elementary school is here, alongside an artist friend I just met this past year. I'm anticipating the ones who are coming (5 more), I'm sorry for the ones who couldn't make it, and I'll be sorry to see the last friend leave. And I think, by then, I'll be ready to go home, meld back into the familiar rhythms, and embrace marriage, family, and real life.

It's been a great event to mark my 45 years in the galaxy.

Lent is good for setting things right

...for returning to the place I should be.

For too long, I go along slip sliding into a comfortable place. Lent is to some degree about discomfort...fasting, abstinence, denial. All those kinds of discomfort bring my soul into a place to better address my need to be shaken up a bit: to return to a path from which I've strayed, to confess the faults I'd sooner forget, to right the wrongs I've perpetuated in my world, to renew the intentions I've made in the past and bring them into line with the present. It's a good time to recognize how I've taken people for granted... Bill reminded me of that this past week. It's a time to come face to face with the sly way controlling tendencies worm themselves back into my relationships. It's a time to return to prayer, to attention, to deliberateness. It's a time to approach my spirit with greater reverence. It's a time to challenge myself to be the one I claim to be.

In this vein, I spend some time:
- in solitude. Not reading blogs, not posting my photos, not scanning articles. But thinking my own original thoughts, being with myself and my thoughts long enough to glean from myself.
- with friends, strengthening connections that are real and not superficially based.
- in yoga. Working on my fitness, my inner awareness, and my body/spirit connection.
- in prayer. Actually doing what everyone talks about.
- envisioning my desired life.
- returning to my roots in non-coercive parenting and non-controlling spousing.
- designing compassion projects that are doable for me.
- loving Bill well. Doing something, however small, to let him know he's important to me.

Where I am From

I am from sweet tea and Little Debbie cakes, from biscuits from scratch and from real butter. I am from fried chicken and Uncle Ben’s, from three square meals, with a yellow and a green vegetable, a starch, a meat, and maybe if I was lucky, a big bowl of ice cream. I am from Sunday dinners with the missionaries from Jordan, Kenya, Peru, Japan.
I am from a blue and white Delft kitchen, from wide porches and colonial pillars, stone fireplaces and murals of the Matterhorn. I am from rabbit ears and rotary phones. I am from cedar split rail fences and bamboo hiding spots. I am from a drafty cedar closet lined with piles of old National Geographics. I am from wrought iron balconies and shag carpet. I am from cool basement and attic fan, from the hook and eye on my mom and dad’s door, and from wobbly crystal doorknobs. I am from the porch swing that lived inside, for courting. Because of course, when the squeak, squeak, squeak stopped, one needed to take note.
I am from towering magnolias, fragrant blossoms with matchstick centers and red seeded pods when the blossoms faded. I am from boxwoods so large I could hide in them every afternoon and play school, and house, and lead the choir. I am from weeping willows I could climb when I was sad. I am from sand dollars and shark’s teeth, palmettos and scrub pines. I am from creeks and boulders, birthed from the ancient Appalachians. I am from Pop’s roses, and Grandma’s jonquils, and the occasional stolen hydrangea from Mrs. Ballentine’s yard.
I am from the Cobb reunion, and I am from early to bed and afternoon naps. I am from judgment and generosity. I am from Papa Cobb, patriarch of my mother’s line and I am from Lib and Katy and Fran and Ruth and Sue, steel magnolias all of them. I am from bad grammar and good hearts. I am from Pop, who took me fishing and drove 30 miles back to Greenwood once, when I left my Barrel of Monkeys at the restaurant. I am from Grandma’s fried pies and paperdolls, and I am from rockers on her porch. I am from alcohol, and pedophilia, and drugs and mental illness; and I am from bedside prayers, and faithfulness and love that withstood.
I am from good humor and laughter. I am from not saying what you truly feel. From being a good girl and not breaking their hearts, like Bob did.
I am from Wesley and Calvin. From altar rail and font. From twice on Sunday and once on Wednesday night. I am from red church doors, the Trinity hymnal and offering envelopes. From soloists and organists and people who had it together, no matter what.
I am from Greenville, from the foothills. From grits and gravy, and Grandma’s lemon pound cake. I am from the summer scent of chlorine. I am from the comforting aroma of leaf mold quietly decaying under a canopy of oaks and hickories.
I am from black-leafed leather albums holding black and white squares of dogs and smiling children and Easter hats. I am from carousel upon carousel of aging colored slides, journaling trips to Egypt and Greece and France, to Kennebunkport and Myrtle Beach and Abbeville.
This is where I am from.

This about sums it up

Conversation with DD on phone:

Me: Just wanted you to hear it from us: your brother was arrested last night for disorderly conduct.
Her: Which one?

Yeah, well, when you've got three teenage boys, I suppose that IS the question isn't it?

-----
I'm coping with it alright, but I don't want to go into detail here right now, for his sake.

Funny aside: just before we got "the phone call" Bill had just commented to me as we were leaving the restaurant after lunch, "I wonder what we're going to do for the next hour before we have to take M to basketball practice?" Don't ask what you're going to do to fill a blank hour, unless you want something to come along and fill it!! :-)

I'm not sure I believe this about myself....

...but I'm glad middle aged women like me, since I am one!

You Are Elmo

Sweet and innocent, you expect everyone to adore you. And they usually do! You are usually feeling: Talkative. You've got tons of stories to tell. And when you aren't talking, you're laughing. You are famous for: Being popular, though no one knows why. Middle aged women especially like you. How you life your life: With an open heart. "Elmo loves you!"

The Sesame Street Personality Quiz

Do you know .... The Secret?

Naysayers, just hold your tongue.

Did anyone see the Oprah shows about The Secret? I did. I was mezmerized. I realize that there's nothing new under the sun, and that this is nothing revolutionary. But with that caveat, I'll have to say it confirmed for me things I've noticed over the last years, things I've observed spiritually, things I've observed in my relationships with children and family. Somehow, the way the messsage was packaged really spoke to me. Not in a way that I'm living so differently from "The Secret", but it spoke to me in a way that says, "You already know this! Remember when such and such happened?.... That was this principle in action!" It spoke to me in ways that I might find helpful to take me further along the path of life I want to create for myself. It dovetails with what Bill's been learning and implementing in his life through his life coaching. It's a message that my kids need to hear. It was the most inspired I've felt in a long time.

I've ordered the DVD, jumped on the bandwagon, and am planning on making my life and my world a better place.

Do YOU know The Secret??

PS. If you missed the Oprah show today and last week you can go to www.thesecret.tv or to Oprah's website and learn more.

On opportunities

This is the photo that made me cry.

We took M to Duke University yesterday. We sat in on a class, ambled around campus, ate at the Great Hall, watched the video, toured with the admissions volunteer, and sneaked into the gym. There he picked up a basketball and took a few precious shots. On the hardwood at Duke University. Duke. The Blue Devils. Coach K has walked on that floor. All the greats that he has admired have practiced on those hoops.

And he could have it.

At first he was impressed, engaged, envisioning himself there. He listened and observed. He talked and evaluated. At first. But slowly, the demon that haunts him got the best of him. He began rationalizing why he couldn't, why it's really not so great, why his dreams were just kid's dreams.

I hate that demon. It's the same demon that renders him an underachiever. That tells him to shoot himself in the foot. That blinds him to the wealth of opportunities before him. That causes him to cave under a self-inflicted Pressure to Succeed. That causes him to despise the very gifts he's been given. That stifles the passions that are there. That makes him value mediocrity as the mark of someone cool.

When I got this photo back, it just crystallized all those feelings for me: The boy. The posture. The ball. The place. The time. The screen. The choice. The opportunity.

The very best part of my day!

Grayson surprised us at dinner tonight....by walking through the door! He flew into town late last night and stayed at a friend's so he could surprise us all tonight when we got home. I screamed and jumped on him, while Bill and M were still scratching their heads trying to figure out who that familiar guy was! We all went out to dinner together and tried to get our minds around his being back! I wish he had stayed longer for his sake, but for my sake, I'm happy he's home! He said he was just ready to be back, and 3 months is a long time, so here he is. :-)

Some challenging thoughts

...lifted from a blog called Today at the Mission: (I still need to figure out how to make a link work...)
http://mission.squarespace.com/-journal/2007/1/7/the-following-jesus-manifesto.html

The 'Following Jesus' Manifesto
1 Stop talking about Jesus. Just stop. If we loved the people around us half as much as we say we love Jesus the rest of this manifesto would be entirely redundant.
2 Live a secret life. Invest the time, effort and vulnerability necessary to delve deeply into the scripture and prayer. Spend long periods of time in stillness. There is no shortcut to this, there is no other way. Without a deep and secret life we soon find ourselves talking about Jesus instead of being like Jesus.
3 Stop pretending. I'm a Christian, and I suck. So do you. Let's get that out of the way, shall we?
4 Give more than you get. There will always be more than enough.
5 Be present for those around you. Following Jesus has nothing to do with your work, your resume or your income. In fact, nothing that matters does.
6 Treasure broken-ness. Our broken places are sacred spaces in our heart. Honour them. Value them. In doing so you love the unlovely, publicly declaring the beauty of God's image in everyone. Greet the broken with comfort and cool water.
7 Throw a party.
8 Know Jesus well enough to recognize him on the street. This is rather important, because he can always be found on the street - and he usually looks more like a pan-handler than a preacher.
9 Accept ingratitude and abuse as a fixed cost. Embrace them, and then go the extra mile.
10 If you follow Jesus, you will anger religious people. This is how you will know.

I know I need to return to #2. I've gotten pretty good about #1, but I'm not sure if it is apathy, or true love of others. Probably the latter. I'm fairly good at #3, although because I look pretty 'clean' it could look like an act. I never give enough, so #4 hits me. And #5... since I have no income, work or resume it would seem that I should be able easily to 'be present'; but I still mightily struggle with this. For instance, I'm typing away, and my dh went to bed alone. #6 sounds nice, but I cannot say I treasure brokenness. I run screaming from it, is probably more honest. I'm great at #7... check. I'm always up for throwing a party....finally, a commandment I can keep! I hope I can mull over these, and the rest of this list tomorrow; but I'll be satisfied if I can just work on #2.

A hymn for MLK Day

We sang this hymn at mass yesterday, and it struck me as appropriate for today's holiday....

O shame to us who rest content while lust and greed for gain
In street and shop and tenement wring gold from human pain,
And bitter lips in blind despair cry, "Christ has died in vain."

Give us, O God, the strength to build the City that has stood
Too long a dream, whose laws are love, whose ways, the common good,
And where the shining sun becomes God's grace for human good.

Already in the mind of God that City rises fair:
Lo, how its splendor challenges the souls that greatly dare:
Yea, bids us seize the whole of life and build its glories there.

Waiting for some divine wisdom to break thru those clouds

But it doesn't happen that way, does it? When you're left to decide between two undesirable options, it becomes harder and harder to get excited about committing to either. And so we've made lists of pros and cons, and prayed, and had this decision nagging at all our minds these last two weeks. And so we decided to continue homeschooling, and having that decision made really provides no relief. Neither M nor I want that option, but I guess I have to come back to: it isn't always about what we want. I'm not ready and we don't think M is ready, for the ramifications of the other option. So there it is. No heavenly visions to guide us, no voices muttering to us, to alignment of stars, no sense of peace, no sense that 'it's the right thing to do'. Just a decision, and then we move on.

Uncertainty and opportunity

We met yesterday with Willis. He talked with us the entire morning. He thinks M shouldn't risk going to RHS, and should prove that he can finish strong while homeschooling....he doesn't think M is ready. So that threw a damper on M's enthusiasm and yet served as another voice in his life who refuses to soft pedal the choices M is making and how vulnerable he is. Willis repeated so many things we've told M in the last few days, it became funny. But Willis has a gift for communicating, for motivating, for encapsulating a truth. M responded afterwards that Willis had so much right in his observations that it was hard to say that he disagreed with his assessment that he should stay home. He definitely gave M something to think about.

Then we came home and my dear friend Beth came over. She mentioned that she and her pastor had been invited to Uganda for two weeks in February to teach there, but they needed a third person to go (so it wouldn't look like the pastor was running off with a parishioner!). I suggested M. She immediately yelled upstairs to him, 'M, do you want to go with me to Uganda?' Totally took him off guard, but wouldn't that be an incredible opportunity for him? He could teach a sports camp, or play with children at an orphanage, or read stories to children, or whatever! He's not sure he wants to yet, but he's thinking about it....

Then our priest came over and and talked with M. M said later that it wasn't so intense as our meeting with Willis, and said it was a welcome break. I am glad that he and the priest hit it off well.

So I guess we're no closer to deciding what to do for school, than we were. But at least we're listening, evaluating, thinking about the options and the ramifications. The photo is of the sky this morning, and it's reflective of the hope I dared to feel after all the days discussions.

A contract is in order

I admit that the noncoercive parent in me bristles. But the realities of broken trust must be factored in the fabric of our lives, unfortunately. And so the last week has been spent in thinking...how to live after the trust has been broken; how to live with the knowlege that there is a cycle of self-defeating behavior going on; how to reconcile the spiritual, the sociological, the psychological aspects of this one person, our son; how to address the practicalities of life, which have been on hold this week. It hasn't been a fun place to be, as a parent, and probably an even less fun place to be as a 15 year old!

Tonight dh and I proposed a contract. By signing it ds would be allowed to start at the public school asap, with no determination made for the following year. One thing at a time. Since I'm unwilling to homeschool anymore, he needs some solution. Otherwise, he would have to continue at the homeschool coop, and just lose the half credit that I was teaching him this semester. But he is miserable homeschooling, and I do feel like he has more than atoned for smoking pot.

Here's the contract.
"I will go this semester to R High School.
Here’s what I agree to:
ACADEMICALLY:
I will finish all outstanding homeschool work by Jan. 15.
I will spend two hours a day doing schoolwork. Academic housekeeping, reading, studying, reviewing, writing, homework, research, or just plain thinking... I’ll schedule two hours per day to do this, without the interruptions of TV, cellphone, or IM.
I will keep a planner, that is available every night (not left at school).
I will make all As and Bs on all report cards, including progress reports.
If I start strong, and then begin slacking off on any of these, I’ll lose privileges. I know that up front and I’m not going to make mom and dad miserable when they enforce this.
I will continue piano twice a week with the current practice requirements (30 minutes a day), and I will do a student show, in order to get the credit for Piano Performance.
I will continue to play with W___, in order to get the credit for PE.
SOCIALLY:
I will not drink alcohol, smoke pot, or any other of those things that will get me nowhere.
I will tell the truth. No lies, no hedging, no rationalizing.
I will rebuild trust with dad and mom. If something goes on at school, or where I am, that isn’t right (drinking at a party for example) I’ll let mom and dad know. Not so that they can have a coronary, or so I can get someone in trouble, but so I can rebuild trust. I won’t make mom and dad guess what’s going on, and I won’t make them ask the ‘right questions’ in order to know what’s going on.
Facebook, My Space, and anything like that will be open to mom/dad. There aren’t any realms where I have a secret life.
I will not orient my life toward my friends, and be strangers to my family. I’ll have my friends over here so mom and dad can get to know them.
I will go to church with the family.
I understand that my social privileges will be gradually reintroduced, and I’m not going to give mom and dad grief about it. Trust takes time, and I’ve really blown it to date.

Additionally, I am signing here that my attitude is going to be that mom and dad are on my side, trying to help me and that they may see things I’m not able to see. So I’m admitting that I trust them to have my best interests at heart. I’m willing to humble myself and accept whatever ‘suggestions’, restrictions, or programs they have (down the road, based on how things go).
I understand that although this is a checklist, it isn’t exhaustive, and it isn’t a list of rules. Rather it is reflective of a few basic values: truth, integrity, self-discipline, trust, and cooperation to name a few. The intent here is that I am going to live in the truth.
I understand that decisions about my junior and senior year will be made later, taking everything into account for my best interests and based on what I learn about myself in the meantime and on what mom and dad observe. I am not interested in accepting less than what I’m capable of, and decisions about the future will focus on this.
I’m signing this of my own free will, because I want to succeed, I want to make positive changes, and because I realize that going to school is a privilege...and not because it’s what mom and dad want to hear. I’ve asked all the questions I need to make sure that I understand what I’m signing."

He clarified a few points, but overall seems happy to sign it. From our POV, we want to follow up with counseling, mentors, ADHD evaluation/accomodations, etc. There's no way this isn't coercive, but I think he does realize that we're in a screwed up morass and this is a hand up. So he's willing to take it. We'll see what happens. Our options, if he becomes passive about fulfilling it, are slim and I recognize that going into it. But ... theres not a lot of other ways to go, to our way of thinking, after a week's brainstorming. So here we go.

insights

On the way home from the beach yesterday M and I talked a lot about what happened with him on new year's eve. Between the two of us we came up with these insights.
-He loves the thrill of adventure, fun, adrenaline, risk....not so much the actual form it takes (alcohol, pot, dares, etc)
-He has something going on (psychological or spiritual or both) where he forgets the wrong thing he's doing even as he's doing it. He has an incredible capacity to zone out of his own life so he doesn't have to deal with the dichotomy of belief and action, and so he doesn't feel the pangs of conscience.
-He's resistant to God, though it doesn't sound too nice to admit to it.
-What causes the greatest losses in his life are not the bad actions themselves. It is always the lying about it afterward that causes the losses...of school, of reputation, of opportunities. People are usually willing to forgive if you're really sorry and admit to your failing. If you don't demonstrate a striken conscience, and you lie to cover up, folks aren't too willing to give much.
-He lies to himself on a daily basis, always rationalizing things that are unpleasant (whether it is a pesky conscience, or homework, or whatever)
-Somehow this amalgamation of self-deceit, dulled conscience, living in a fog, thrill-seeking, risk-taking, lies, etc. is causing a cycle of self-destruction. Just when he keeps his nose clean for awhile, then he is presented with the opportunity (in whatever form it takes...could be cheating at cards, or streaking on the golf course, or stealing something just because he can, or getting high...) to take backward steps. He seizes the opportunity. Then he denies his involvement, both to himself and to others. And then he loses any forward progress he's made, and his chances for a 'normal life' get less likely.
-It really does take stuff like honor, responsibility, living with integrity, perseverance, a good name, self-discipline, and all those other old fashioned concepts to lead a normal happy life. Otherwise you're crippled.