Monday, August 28, 2006


Have I bared too much of myself in this blog? I think so. The blog has become a judge in my life, a mother having listened to my exposed truths - so many eyes, so many opinions, dangerous holders of power over my tentative groundedness, my fragile sense of control.

When I was a teenager and in love, I complained to my mother of the faults of this lover. I said, "He was mean to me, he did this and he did that." Then when he left me, I cried to her, I said, "He hurt me, he cut me right through the core of me." Then when my lover and I made up and I was giddy, my mother stood with her arms crossed and forbade me to see him again. "He hurt you," she said without regard to my passions, "he's a danger to you." She would not forget what I said about him, about his misdeeds. She would not let me forget what I said.

I felt something like that last night. All chaos broke loose, leaving me a shred of a woman. D and I stood firm on a decision regarding J and he lost control. When he was done, D and I collapsed on the couch, collapsed into one another. Drained. We talked late into the night - insomnia gripping me. I found myself caught up in the words of a drive-by poster whose comments I chose to delete because I didn't want that sort of meanness, "objective" meanness, in my "home" of a blog, but there I was wondering if what she said was true. Maybe our chaotic household is my fault, our fault. Perhaps everything I have on my hands is karmic justice. Yes, that person would say. Of course it is. everything would be fine, but for you.

I'm questioning all our choices with the boys - perhaps we should dump all the medications and start from scratch, perhaps we should pick up and move to another state, another town, get a fresh start, perhaps...perhaps...perhaps. Guilt pulls me down, deep under. Sadness, agonizing self-pity. Why is this happening to me? To my family? Why isn't our path one of sweetness, one of bliss? What will become of my beautiful boy? Of all three of my beautiful, energetic, non-academic children? Where did I read recently a quote, who said it? Tell me who said it? "When they least deserve your love, they need it the most."

Lord give me the strength to love an angry, burdened child. Let me be strong the way I'm supposed to be, and not weepy the way can be. Let me be part of what he needs to be upright, not a further weight that crushes him.

I should cut posts. I should slash away at all the exposure. Delete, delete, delete. Don't look, all. Just...don't fucking look. Pass me by, pass the mad lady at the side of the road, talking to herself and waving at demons and cursing the sky and the dusty ground she walks upon. Don't hand her anything, don't talk to her.

I find myself afraid of the very next moment. Paranoid. I cover that up. The kids battle each other now - I turn to them and ask that they get dressed. Choose a book and read quietly. I'm make a big lunch, feed them through their stomachs since I'm coming up short on the emotional food.

This morning, dreams haunted me. My mother was too busy for me. She moved from activity to activity throughout the cabin and I could not corner her to talk to her, to get comfort from her. She finally left and I was in tears. My father's second wife stood next to me and said, "I told you I'd always be here for you." A lie. My sister believes the dream was only a reflection of our reality - in fact, the second wife lives and in fact my mother does not. I woke up crying, feeling the pain of her loss and then just as suddenly as it had come on, I stopped. The mourning passed.

D had already left for work and when he called I was still in bed. Breathe, I tell J, breathe through the tics. Breathe, D tells me. Breathe through the fear. Believe. Be confident.

"Okay, honey."


So anyway... said...

For what it's worth, here's another drive-by comment from a regular lurker.

Your writing is exquisite, Adriana Bliss. I've encountered nothing better in my 24 years of daily online reading, writing, and working. I've encountered its equal perhaps only in the literary classics. All art delivers the news of the day through the transparency that is the artist. Your revealing entries so beautifully document not only your struggle, your suffering, your rare moments of joy or peace, and your profound confusion, but all of ours.

What you and your family are experiencing is the inevitable outcome of what went before, but "karma" is never personal; it's collective. Yes, our children are insane; yes, our lives are chaos; yes, our attempts at making meaning are vain and preposterous. But there's no remedy for our predicament. Our will and desire are impotent devices for dramatic purposes only. We can't fix anything. We can't improve anything. We can't solve even one small problem. We can merely breathe as we execute our fated maneuvers one after the other after the other, until we don't.

Nothing is anyone's fault. Nothing can occur but what does. We are minuscule components of the whole and our tiny functions are dictated by the inevitable trajectory of its form. That's why all of the world's major religions advise surrender. But resisting surrender is our fate, too, of course. Such is the "karmic" battle that your blog entries so accurately and lyrically and heartbreakingly report.

May you write forever.

Jean said...

Your love and talent radiate from the page, Adriana. I hope you won't stop. I hope it helps. It certainly needs sharing, we need it and you need it. What must it be like to have a mother like you who is real and passionate, caring and honest? I can't begin to imagine. I can begin to imagine, though, that your children's difficulties may prove less disabling, in the long run, than it is (and, yes, was for me - how else would I know) to grow up without honesty, empathy, respect and 'real-ness' from parents.

Tarakuanyin said...

You're a wonderful writer and I love reading about your life. I don't have a kid with Tourette's, but even so your experience helps me. I don't understand people who would tell you what's happened to you or your kids is your fault. The thing is, all dynamic relationships are different. One kid with a certain kind of personality could turn out one way with certain parents, and another way with different ones. Hard-ass parents can have rebellious kids who go off the rails. "Easy" or inconsistent parents can have kids who grow up just fine. Some kids from horribly dysfunctional backgrounds make it, and others from relatively benign upbringings end up in trouble. Even two similar kids from two similar parenting situations could end up entirely different depending on their social context and peer groups. It's not as simple as just saying, "If you parent such-and-such a way, everything will be just fine."

I watched my best friend in Ireland "spoil" her son rotten when he was small, and heard all the comments about how he was going to be a real troublemaker as a teen and an adult. Now he's 16 and the most incredible young man, sensitive, kind, compassionate and loving. I've watched "good enough" parents cry their eyes out over kids who go nuts, and terrible parents raise fine teens. And as a community college teacher, I've been privy to stories about parenting from both sides of the fence, the children of alcoholic, divorced families, and the parents of kids who are engaging in self-destructive behaviors. (Or who did once. I've read papers from those whose kids turned out just fine, after spending time in juvvy or jail as young people. And I've had those former cons in my classes, too.) After 15 years of teaching people from multiple, diverse backgrounds, I have come to understand that for by far the majority of people, in the end it turns out OK.

Just do what you're doing, Adriana. Don't let one unkind person bring it all down for you. And PLEASE keep writing.

Danny said...

I didn't see the comment of that person on your last post (it was already deleted) but from the comments that followed I knew who it was. I hope you don't let that mean-spirited holier-than-thou cyber-terrorist have an impact on what you choose to write about. In addition to your exquisite writing ability, I know I come to your site for the frequently brutal honesty with which you write about your life. Even though we all have different life experiences, I always find such writing immensely helpful, inspiring, and gratifying. Such honesty is rare and infinitely more helpful than that commenter's snide and ugly agenda that she tries to pass off as honesty. Maybe she truly believes she's serving a useful purpose commenting on these blogs the way she does, but to me her statements say a lot more about her own ego issues than anyone else's story.

Adriana Bliss said...

Oh my. You all have left me speechless, moved, tearful, humble, inspired. Thank you, thank you so much. And lurker...please, delurk more often. Your analysis of karma was so good...and your compliment bowled me over.

Thanks everybody...from the depths of my ravaged soul. You all are priceless.

Jennifer said...

"Your writing is exquisite, Adriana Bliss."

I couldn't agree more. And most times, times like this one, I have no comment worthy of taking up space in your comment section. But sometimes, I just feel the need to let you know I've been here, and read.

Lori said...

Well, I feel much better after having talked to you on the phone...I was pretty worried about you after reading this. But as usual, you've bounced back. What else can you do, right?

I'm not as eloquent as everyone else here, but you know how great I think you are. You're honest about everything you write here, which is brave in itself, but to be so honest about the downside of parenting in this age of uber-parenting...that's REALLY brave.

So don't let the troll's comments bother you. ;)