Teri Parris Ford's Blog

I lost my faith because of Steve Carell

To be fair Steve Carell, who I believe is a Roman Catholic, just helped me make sense of a long journey of seeing my faith slipping away. Yes, Steve Carell from The Office. I am pretty sure I have loved everything he’s done but I am especially fond of his rom-com stuff and it was a movie I saw the summer of 2012 staring Carell that brought a sudden clarity to a long-time confusion I had been feeling about my faith and all things religion. I suppose it was Carell’s character, Dodge, in Seeking a Friend for the End of the World that spoke to me deeply. The movie is about the end of life on earth as an asteroid named Matilda is on a collision course that will hit in three weeks. The plot moves quickly to a road trip in search of lost love but ends with newfound love (Keira Knightley, who can’t be helped but loved), with both in each other’s arms, assuring each other as the world ends. As asteroids crash in the background, the screen brightens to white and then fades to back. That’s it. Life is over… no one is saved.

That evening, after a fun date night, we drove home, and I wept long and deep in the car, confusing my husband. I was only a couple of years away from an empty nest. Life as I had known it had changed many times and would continue to change. The church had disappointed me repeatedly throughout my life—specifics are meaningless I think at this point. There was something about how the movie ended that made me realize that is what happens. We live, we die and that’s it. No one is saved. I lost a lot that evening and it was painful, deeply painful and so I wept for a very long time. Oddly, it was like the last straw that broke me. Interestingly, my spiritual journey had been primarily experiential while my husband’s intellectual. What I find amazing is that today we find ourselves at the same place. We took very different paths and timelines from strong theists to agnostics to atheists.

I once argued with my dad, a fundamental Christian Calvinist, that since he and I believed I was truly saved in my youth, that I could not lose my salvation. I knew he believed in the perseverance of the saints and for a long time, I was hoping for a change in my thinking. My mom told me I had been beaten down by the hypocrisy of too many Christians and excused my refusal to attend church, but she too trusted in my eternal security.  It was important to me not to disappoint my parents. I knew coming out as an atheist would grieve them. When visiting them, I would warn my kids not to take god’s name in vain, and to not watch anything unchristian like on TV. Once both of my parents had passed, I knew I was free to openly believe however I wanted without fear of familial consequence, yet their dying failed to give me any comfort.

There are Sundays I pass churches on the street and feel astonished that the parking lot is full. It informs me that my journey might be unique and certainly is not universal. After attending a yoga fest last week, I had several odd experiences. One, while walking back to the main house looking up to the sky, I started singing How Great Thou Art—an old church hymn I have not sung in years (decades). I realized many of the spiritual experiences at the festival, all very Hindu in nature, I think, were triggering my past religious experiences. It made me realize how very universal spiritualism can be. People need a deeper experience. Certainly, fading to black is not the way we want our stories to end. Ironically, I have found life is incredibly more meaningful without the trappings of an afterlife. If this life is all I have, then I want it to be as long and loving as possible.

Synchronicity

The Spontaneous Fulfillment of Desire: Harnessing the Infinite Power of Coincidence by Deepak Chopra came out in 2004. I purchased it at some point in my life with a bunch of other books with a coupon at Borders Bookstore. The book was stacked with other books to read and finally sent out to a shelf in the garage with a bunch of "I don't know what to do with all this stuff" stuff. Then in the middle of May 2014, my life seemed to turn upside down.  What I understood to be a solid, unshakable truth, ended up being a lie. My husband of 26 years left me. In times of extreme stress, I clean. I really clean. I move furniture and throw a lot of shit away. As piles of stuff was getting tossed from the house out to the garage and then out to the curb, I found that book and started reading it.

At that same time, the very middle of May 2014, the bathroom lights that had stopped working years earlier, suddenly turned on. It seemed miraculous. We had been living with a lamp in the bathroom. My husband had replace both switches, but his attempts to fix the lighting had failed. We opted to add a lamp instead of paying for an electrician. Then shortly after, like hours after, my husband shared the truth with me, the truth that he had not loved me for years but had been having an affair and was leaving me, yes, that was when the lights just started working. No explanation, no intervention, no rhythm or reason other than maybe, synchronicity.

Synchronicity is a concept Carl Jung offered us that explains some events are "meaningful coincidences" if they occur without a causual relationship-- not casual, but cause-ual. The meaningful relationship between two unrelated events might actaually be related. To me, the bathroom lights being turned on at the same time that the truth was being relieved in my life had a significant correlation. The man who could not fix them was actually the cause of their darkening our lives. Then as I read Chopra's book on the power of coincidences, I realized that the book was meant for me to read at that time in my life, not at the time I had purchased it.  I needed to read and understand it in May of 2014, not a month sooner.

I suppose everyone experiences coincidences. Each of us are connected with one another in ways we often are not even aware. Whether you believe it is God orchestrating things behind the scenes or a great pervasive intelligence that is at the heart of the universe creating coincidences, synchronizing an amazing choreography, things are not so accidental. We can consciously shape our desires and our destinies by moving closer to enlightenment, to understanding how the universe works, by not just trusting God, so to speak, but rather by speaking to Him. The key is to pay attention and ask why.

According to Chopra there is a deeper level of reality. Science calls it quantum reality. Physics defines quantum as the smallest indivisible unit of information and energy. So if our thoughts are units of information and energy and when energy has a pattern, it becomes information. To be honest, the scientific explanations Chopra offers stretched my mind beyond understanding at times, but I understood that  "energy and matter and information are interchangeable." In the quantum world we are interconnected and we inseparable. And so we are simply fields of energy and information in the universe of energy and information, where everything is happening at the speed of light. Even our physical bodies are really just energy, constantly remaking, and regenerating ourselves. Our emotions are recycled energy, reacting depending on situations, circumstances, relationships and events. It is incredibly complicated and ever so simple.  We live our lives typically in cause and effect relationships, linear thinking. But life is not linear, it is a web of connections. Intentions are interwoven and there is ripple effect that is often beyond our understanding. 

Chopra describes seven principles of what he calls SynchroDestiny: 
1)  The existence of a Conscious Energy Field; the underlying intelligence that gives rise to my body and yours and the universe as a whole.
2)  Understanding how human relationships operate in terms of Creating Cosmic Connections; in that the ability to create positive human relationships is fundamental.
3)  Mastering your Inner Dialogue, and recognizing the fact that it is the heart and mind that control external reality; if there is something that you can not find/achieve, it is because there is something within you that is preventing you from finding what you want or need.
4)  Penetrating the Conspiracy of Improbabilities means learning to recognize meaningful coincidences and seeing them as opportunities.
5)  Once we understand that external reality can’t be separated from internal reality, and that the universe is our extended body, it is clear that it’s necessary for each of us to Harness Emotional Turbulence, in order to transform negative energy into a higher level of awareness.
6)  Learning to Use the Infinite Organizing Power of Intention, which requires letting go of the idea that the universe is an inert machine, and realizing that the force within ourselves such as intention, is just as real as that of gravity or electromagnetism.
7)  Celebrating the Cosmic Dance is about synchronizing the series of experiences that emerge from your Conscious Energy Field with the universe.  Finding the connection between how we live our lives and the way that the universe works, so that we’re living in harmony with that connection.

Deepak Chopra elucidates that “There are messages everywhere around you to guide you, if you’re open and willing to move in the direction of understanding and growth, and listen to them. Some things in my life, are completely conscious and planned out, whereas others are intuitive, coming from an awareness that isn’t exactly stamped out and demarcated.”

"That’s why, if you really want to break out of the mundane, you must learn to think and dream the impossible. Only with repeated thoughts can the impossible be made possible through the intention of the nonlocal mind.”

“In the vastness of the ocean there is no individual “I” clamoring for attention. There are waves and eddies and tides, but it is all, in the end, ocean. We are all patterns of nonlocality pretending to be people. In the end, it is all spirit.”

So after reading this book and having my mind blown, I'm still left wondering why. I still can't get over why I feel things are not fair. How did those bathroom lights just start working and to this very day, still work. 

 

Where is my Easter?

Easter is clearly a Christian holiday, but so Americanized it has its own isle at the store for candy and gifts. Our elaborate Easter celebrations have gone to the wayside these past two years as I have spent my Easters literally in transit. Both last year and this year, I have spent the day actually driving across America. IE: the Easter Bunny was not home. I hid candy in a basket for Erika last year, as well as this year, as she has spent these Easters home alone-- no holiday dinner made. I sent a box to Jessi and brought candy for Monika to put in a basket at my mom's house (shown here).

Monika did not even have Good Friday off. She had to ask permission to miss her calculus class. Luckily she is doing well and had never missed class before so her professor gave her his blessing to be with family for the holiday weekend. I'm not even sure if Erika will have the day off, since there are yoga class taught on Easter Sunday. I know Jessi will have the weekend off and be encouraged to attend a service among her peers. 

So what happens to Easter when no one is home to stuff baskets with chocolate eggs and hallow bunnies, when no one is in need of a pretty Sunday dress or new church sandals anymore? How does one resurrect resurrection Sunday? I have been thinking about this idea of resurrection and what it means. In the Spring I resurrect myself, in many ways from a Winter slumber of laziness. While Christians all over America are going to church to celebrate Christ risen; I am driving across the interstate highway, wondering what happened to my family holiday and if my Easter will ever rise from this death. Perhaps it has passed into a new realm or is just something that is lost forever-- like childhood's sweet memories that are no longer a part of reality's present but touched looking at old photos and the telling of stories. 

Life is good. There is a sweetness as a mother, knowing my children are all doing well-- young women who are able to take care of themselves. I am the mother of adults now and my roll has changed.  I will have to wait for grandchildren, if they ever come, for the next transition in my life. Is that when we will fill Easter baskets again and I will have my happy holiday back? Or maybe I can resurrect the holiday to have new meaning?

What if love was lost and then found again-- could we not celebrate that miracle? If that past love is lost forever then I think this holiday may be lost as well. Eventually it will be made new again, like life after winter. The flowers may look the same but I know they are new bulbs that were planted. There is hope and maybe that is all Easter will be for a while, a hidden hope. The resurrection of that lost love would be miraculous, though. Okay, not like the risen Savior, but for me, for now, more meaningful. 

Caution

I was thinking about the idea of falling rocks today. I saw this video about a month ago about a car that barely avoids being smashed by a falling boulder. I don't think there is anyway to avoid falling rocks, really, if they are flying down from the sky. Sometimes avoiding falling rocks has you driving into oncoming traffic and that can't be good.

My day today was a bit more eventful. Leslie Iwai came in this morning to finish up the instillation of a show that will open tomorrow. I had a surprise visit from an alumni with a coffee in hand. I had planned to have lunch with Josh, but we decided to hold off so I treated myself to Jimmy Johns after my CAMM class, which had been a bit too eventful-- another homecoming request. I got an order made for solder, polish and few other metals needs. I finished fixing another flex shaft. I got a handout finished for both CAMM and painting done. After school I went over to the gallery to check on things and help prep a bit for tomorrow. I got home around 6pm and made quesidillas for dinner for Monika and me.

Balt and I went for a very peaceful walk, where I further contemplated the idea of avoiding falling rocks and if it were indeed possible. I wondered if in trying to avoid the collision, it might actually make things worse, especially while driving.  A few weeks ago I scolded one of my daughters for always avoiding confrontation and warned her it was in her nature, as it seems to be a part of my nature (to avoid confrontation). As a teacher, though, I have come to realize confrontation is a part of the learning process. By avoiding it, you might actually be creating more of it. Ironic. 

The State of Education

Today Monika was invited to meet State Superintendent Tony Evers at the Wisconsin Capitol for his annual state of education address. She was asked to lead the pledge of allegiance and introduce the assistant superintendent. The principal of our school and superintendent of our school district both came to the meet and greet before the ceremony (below; top, left picture). She was given a state DPI certificate honoring her accomplishment of winning state superintendent at Badger Girls State, along with the boy who won the same state position at Badger Boys State (below; top, right picture). We were escorted to the capitol from a hotel we were at with a bit of a short State Street tour (below; bottom, left picture). Obviously, being from Madison, the tour was for the other family. After the ceremony she was invited to the state superintendent's office to check out where he did his work (photo below; right bottom). She thought to write a short note thanking him for the invitation, which was very nice. The day was very special. We topped it off with a late lunch at Ian's Pizza. A treat for me, as I had never been and it was delicious!

I was told many times, how great Monika was, "a natural," how proud I must me, etc. She's an impressive young woman. It was hard not to brag about all three of my daughters. With a senior at UW's business school and a daughter at the Naval Academy, Monika is not an extraordinary kid in our family really. As I listened to the superindent talk about the state of education in the state of Wisconsin, I thought about how important education had been in our family. The success my daughters have found comes from a foundation of educational values early on. When Monika was running for superintendent last summer at Badger Girls State, she asked me what I felt was important about education. I think the most important thing we can do for children is offer educational experiences early in life-- pre-school and 4 year old kindergarten are a must. I watched Erika go to full time kindergarten while living in Germany and I learned how vital it was for kids to begin to learn to socialize and interact with their peers before they started elementary school. In Germany, 4 year olds are taught how to go to school first-- not how to read or do math. They learn how to interact properly, they eat a family style lunch everyday where they learn how to pass the plate of food, say thank you and at the end of the day gather their things and offer a proper salutation. 

As a teacher in high school, I have come to realize that half of my job is teaching kids to interact and socialize appropriately. I have casual conversations not only to get to know my kids but to engage in a role modeling of social norms. Children who do well in school are kids who have been read to, visited museums, traveled, were introduced to strangers and learned how to interact appropriately. Some folks point the fingers to certain sub-cultures in America as having huge gaps in learning and I would offer that while poverty is partially to blame, isolation is the greatest deterrent to learning. The sooner we get kids interacting and becoming social beings who care about the society they live in, the better places schools will become and the greatest way to do that (maybe the cheapest way too) is to read to our young. While not everyone can afford to travel or visit museums, but one can do both with a book. One of my most cherished times as a young mother was reading the Hobbit to all three girls every night for a few months one Wisconsin winter. Oh, the places we went to that winter in our imaginations! Having all three girls fight to stay awake to hear the story was magical. I believe my own educational passions began on the couch with my dad as he read Bible stories to me when was a very young girl. 

There was one funny moment when someone asked Monika if she wanted to be a teacher, like her mother, when she grew up. She smiled awkwardly and said no. I know she wants to travel and hopes to do something with international relations. She'd make an amazing ambassador. I turned to the gentleman and shared that I think teacher's kids want to grow up to make a bit more money then their parents. He laughed and agreed-- teacher's don't make enough money to travel much. 

 

Let’s just say…

I’ve avoided voicing the things I think about to avoid controversy. I spew out a daily schedule of what I do to keep this blog regular and my mother knowing what I’m up to. But let me take a Sunday morning to share with you what I’ve been thinking.

I read recently in the NY Times a quote from the Rev. Jesse Lee Peterson—some guy who founded a Tea Party group in California (and you know how crazy those Californians are). He said, “I think that one of the greatest mistakes that America made was to allow women the opportunity to vote. We should’ve never turned it over to women.” Wow. That blows me away, BUT what really gets me is that he’s not the only one thinking like that. Guys like Jesse Lee Peterson and Dwight Schrute are a bit more plentiful than I’d like to think.

Have you ever seen a documentary on the suffrage movement? The PBS one on Stanton and Anthony is a great one. I remember seeing that for the first time and being amazed at the plight of women in its recent past. Our young girls today don’t know at one time they were worth so little. I was raised with strong female voices in my family sharing with me that I could do whatever I wanted. It wasn’t until I became a woman that I learned that my mother and grandmother paved the way for my freedom. 

I have often felt that ANY woman, no matter her political leanings is better than a man in her place. I’ve learned that it works out better if they appear to be intelligent on TV interviews. There are men who seem to think that one of the primary reasons America is falling into the toilet IS because women are taking over, running companies, and making more decisions in society. I would say quite the contrary.

I was delighted to see in the NY Times Op Ed article called, “Men, Who Needs Them?” “It’s increasingly clear that “mankind” itself is a gross misnomer: an uninterrupted, intimate and essential maternal connection defines our species.” 

So let’s just say we get rid of men altogether? Well, I taught a class of all girls once and it was kind of boring. As much trouble as those boys are, they do bring excitement into the classroom. And having just lived the past two weeks without a spouse (he was serving in Kentucky), I was living the life of a house full of women. I pulled out carpets and moved furniture on my own. I have a few sore muscles to remind of what life might me like without my husband—harder. As we caught up on life this morning over coffee, talking about all the things we need to do, I asked if he might help me with a little home project and he gladly accepted. I look forward to working with him, I miss him when he’s gone... fully understanding how much he complicates my life.

So the answer isn’t getting ridding of them. It’s working with them… Men need to help raise our children, they need to clean the kitchen and do the laundry. If women are indeed, ruining the country with our running companies and making decisions, it’s only far for men to ruin our homes with their awkward folding techniques and putting the dishes in the wrong cabinettes.

“Meanwhile women live longer, are healthier and are far less likely to commit a violent offense. If men were cars, who would buy the model that doesn’t last as long, is given to lethal incidents and ends up impounded more often?”

Optimism, Persistence & Social Intelligence

I have often wondered how it is that I managed to graduate not only from college but grad school. As a teacher, I teach a lot of kids who seem a whole lot smarter than me. I also see a lot of average kids, who like me when I was in high school, don't particularly excel in anything. I ditched my fair share of classes, most my senior year and always to socialize. I never got into trouble, but I didn't even bother to take the ACT or SAT while in high school. I had a student reach out to me today with his hand (I think he was giving me a high five) and say, "Ford, you give me so much hope for my future!" I wasn't sure if it was a compliment.

The conversation in my class was about rules. I don't really like rules, but I understand that I have to enforce them. In general most all rules are just common sense. Don't steal, don't throw things, etc. Those kind of rules are easy to follow and not difficult to enforce. If a kid throws something in my class, I do my best to make him (or her, but usually it's a him) understand he is idiot if he breaks that rule again. I mean, come on, it's common sense. There are a few rules that aren't as easy to follow for students, like having a phone out or wearing a hat. I try my best to use a combination of good humor and reasonableness when enforcing those rules. Nothing is that big of deal, we just have to follow a few rules. 

There's a great article in the NY Times called "What if the Secret to Success Is Failure?" (published: September 14, 2011) that claims that self-control can be a more reliable predictor of students’ success than their intelligence. I have seen this to be true with my own three daughters and it is certainly true in my own life. I can look back with some accuracy and see that my own successes have come from a lot of optimism, some persistence and more social intelligence than a high IQ. According to the headmaster of one of NY's most prestigious schools,  “The idea of building grit and building self-control is that you get that through failure,” he explained. “And in most highly academic environments in the United States, no one fails anything.” I understood how Erika could get an A in calculus after failing geometry in high school. She had learned more than just math in her education. As I see both Monika and Jessi excel in their HS experiences, I believe they have learned most of their "grit" via sports. I hope it's enough. No one wants to see their child fail. But if it is the actual failure that brings on succes, then okay, leggo.

The Four Temperaments

The four temperaments has its roots in an ancient theory about the four humors; black bile (gr. melan chole), yellow bile (gr. chole), phlegm (gr. phlegma), and blood (lat. sanguis). The Greek physician Hippocrates developed it from either the Egyptians or the Mesopotamians, but Tim La Haye wrote a book about the four temperaments in 1966 and made it semi-popular especially among Christians. My parents read the books, so I grew up understanding my temperament and trying to figure out others. Jim knew enough about them for the two of us to discuss them especially when it came to our children. 

I don't believe the temperaments are static. We move in life from one quadrant toward another as we age, especially as young children. Early on we believed Erika to be a Choleric because of her strong will. Little did we understand what a strong willed child was until Jessi was born. Erika was not strong willed at all, but she was an extrovert early on and as she matured she became increasingly introvert, but never painfully shy. She has always been a people person though. I found it difficult to just box my kids in because there was a fluidity to their temperament but it's still fun to plug them in to the theory.

Erika is a phlegmatic, through and through--although early in her life we expected her to be more of a sanguine like me because of her easiness with people. However, she is not a sanguine but a very phlegmatic who tends to be self-content and kind, very accepting and affectionate. She prefers stability to uncertainty and change. Erika is very consistent, relaxed, rational, curious, and observant. She is not a traveler and has stated she would be very happy to spend the rest of her life in Madison, WI. The only aggression one gets from a real phlegmatic is very passive aggressive.

Jessi has always been our wild card. Both Jim and I have debated  who she is more like. I am a sanguine which is a fairly extroverted personality and Jim is a melancholy which is a somewhat introverted loner. Jessi has exhibited both tendencies. As she continues to mature, it is clear that she has much more in common with Jim than me. The two of them love to travel and have such a wanderlust for life. While Jim's creativity expressed itself most in his music in his youth, he is now a very creative writer and Jessi is also a creative writer who loves poetry and art. While Melancholies become preoccupied with goals and so involved in what they are doing they forget to think of others, the Choleric is also motivated by goals, but they learn to use other people as tools to attain their goals. I think Jessika has choleric tendencies to her melancholy disposition. A person who is choleric is a do-er and has a lot of ambition,  energy, passion, and they try to instil it in others. They can dominate people of other temperaments, especially phlegmatic types. They like to be leaders and in charge of everything. Melancholies on the other hand have a low need to be included by others and are often self-reliant, independent and may reject others before risking rejection. I think it will be interesting to see where she ends up as an adult.

I have always known Monika to be an introvert, the most of the 5 of us. Since she was a baby I have seen her the most serious and the most inclined to deep, thoughts and reflection. Like Jim (and my father) she is a melancholic personality but so different from Jessi. Monika is much more driven by laws and principles, more comfortable alone and in silence. She is very introspective and always despises the lime-light (or taking photos) and she would rather withdraw and let others receive recognition whereas Jessi would bask in it.

Whereas Jim is a true Melancholy, I am a true Sanguine. We are opposites and opposites attract. I see the two of us moving toward each other as we age interestingly enough. I enjoy social gatherings, making new friends and tend to be quite loud. Sanguines can be very sensitive, compassionate and thoughtful. Sanguine personalities generally struggle with following tasks all the way through, are chronically late (something I have learned not to do), and tend to be forgetful and sometimes a little sarcastic. I put a little chart together, just for fun. It will be interesting to see how this chart changes in 10 years. Believe me, it will.

How to 2 Lose your Child in 7 Steps

This was written in the Dublin Airport (yes, in Ireland) while on a 20 hour lay-over. My hope was to send it off to O Magazine...

At some point as a parent you might find that suddenly everything has changed. The wonderful child you enjoyed so many outings with doesn’t want to be in the same room as you and says very little. I came to a point when I felt I was doing everything wrong with my own teen age daughter.  This chapter is about what NOT to do as parent.  After nearly a year of reflection what happened to my family, I discovered behaviors I needed not only to change but if I had it to all to do over again, I would have altered completely.  I know we loved our girls always and wanted only the best for them, but the best is not always what happens.

Step One: Stop All Physical Contact 

Suddenly a little girl wasn’t so little and when your daughter starts her period, needa a bigger bra and starts stealing your make up, something happens to change the parent/child relationship. It may not be so dramatic for boys, but no matter what the sex of your child is, physical maturity creeps in slowly.  Although every parent and child is different, we naturally hold on to our children less and less.  I stopped cradling them for hours on end each day, stop picking them up every time their arms reach up for practical reasons; and eventually I stop grasping their hand to cross the street.  At some point I realized that I hadn’t held my eldest daughter in a long a time and just brushing up against her seemed like an odd sensation.  I began to have to force the hugs and, God forbid, kisses on her.  

I think it all began for me when Erika, my eldest, was sixteen.  She had finished a relationship painfully just before her Junior Prom.  My husband was away serving in Afghanistan as a reservist for the year.  I had decided to train for a triathlon while he was gone.  Erika’s friends all met up for photos before the Prom dinner and the parents were all there snapping pictures from a safe distance.  Erika was still in a sensitive state and decided to go with her best girl-friend.  Her group of friends included both sexes, both orientations, both couples and singles; it looked like a very safe group to spend a Junior Prom with to me.  After the picture session, I left for the lake to get a quick swim in my wetsuit.  Once Erika reached the restaurant for dinner she saw that someone had invited her x-boyfriend with his date to be in the Prom group without preparing her.  She was devastated.

In mid-May the water is still cold in Madison, so that when I heard the phone ring back on the shore, I eagerly shortened the swim I intended.  Missing the call, I checked my voice-mail and heard my Erika crying, explaining that she had forgotten her purse at the picture place and that the evening was ruined.  I quickly called her back, eager to help and save the evening by offering to bring her purse.  I could hear she needed to be comforted and the mother in me wanted to make everything safe and well for her.  As I drove up to the restaurant, I saw her waiting for me in her Prom dress, hair and make-up done up.  She was so beautiful.  She poked her head into the passenger window of my car and wept.  

I sat there in my swimsuit with my wetsuit pulled down to my waste, still wet, stinking of lake water.  I told her everything was going to be great once she got to the Prom and met up with other friends.  I wanted to reach out and hold her so badly but I couldn’t—not in my wet stinky wetsuit vs. her beautiful princess dress.  I think that evening may have been the last time Erika had come to me in earnest emotional need as a child wanting her mother.  That moment is forever frozen in my mind.  As ridiculous as the two of us looked on the side of the street at that moment, it is so precious to me.  She needed me to hug her.  I should have at least touched her and I didn’t.  I don’t know when that physical contact stopped being a central part of our relationship but it had.  As much as I missed it, I know she needed it and I stopped meeting that need. 

Step Two: React in Anger

When Erika’s junior year ended, she went away backpacking in the High Sierras of Colorado with our church youth group. I told her about my plan to completely clean her room while she was gone and she seemed fine with me.  Everything was normal when she left and when she returned two weeks later, everything changed.  While cleaning out her closet I found a locked box.  It wasn’t just any box but an ornate wooden treasure chest that I had never seen before.  I asked my other two daughters if they knew anything about the box and I got story from Jessi, my middle daughter who is four years younger than Erika.  She admitted that during the past winter my husband had sent a big package for my youngest daughter’s birthday, but Jessi and Erika had intercepted it.  Jessi admitted that the two of them opened the gift and saw the chest filled with candy, toys and school supplies.  They decided to keep just a few items for themselves and leave the rest for Monika, their baby sister.  Erika informed Jessi that she “needed” the box and not to tell Monika about it.  Because there had been so many things in the box, Monika never questioned that anything was missing.  When my husband referred to the box he sent, we all assumed he meant the cardboard box that held all the contents.

Now came the hard part, the key to open the box was not in Erika’s room.  I had to decide whether to break the box open or wait for Erika.  As I stared at the box, the anger did hit me hard but crept in.  The container did not belong to Erika so I felt justified in cracking the thing open.  Accessing the locked box was no easy task and as I pried it with a screw driver, still anger grew.  I was furious before I saw the contents of the box, then I was livid to point that my body shook in dismay.  The tears couldn’t come until much later because the anger was strangling them. I think my anger dictated my behavior for months after that time in the garage pounding on that locked box.

The contents indicated that Erika was both sexually active and using drugs.

Luckily, I had a week to deal with it before Erika returned—lots of time to figure out what to do.  The problem was I didn’t.  I only had my rage festering inside, eating me.

Step Three: Keep Communication Minimal

When Erika returned, I did not talk to her about what had happened.  Instead, I wrote her a letter.  I shared my disappointment, my anger and a new set of rules she had to live by.  I even threw in the law of the land and the law from Bible verses I looke up to justify my commandments.  She was not allowed to have sex until she was an adult, she was not allowed to have legal drugs until she was of age and of course she could not have any illegal drugs ever.  There would be no more sleepovers with friends, no more  late nights out and most of all, there would be no conversation.

Where was my child in all this?  It seemed surreal to me, like it really wasn’t happening and somehow, if I didn’t discuss it, I felt like I could make it go away.  I made my demands and expected full cooperation.  I didn’t ask questions, I didn’t want reasons.  I didn’t want to know the details.  Talking about my daughter’s sex life was even more uncomfortable to me than talking to my mother’s about hers—EW!  The realization that she had become a woman behind my back was difficult to face and quite honestly, I didn’t.

Later when she would break her curfew or when I would catch her in lies, the anger would push out words… words I would regret saying.  I yelled, I screamed, I called her names and when I look back at it all, I never communicated what I really felt, never.  I am not sure I understood what I felt.

 Step Four: Fail to Get Help

When I opened that box it was not the last time I would find marijuana in Erika’s room and each time I would feel just as angry and just as helpless as the first time.  The first place I went for advice was the internet.  There is a lot of information out there but not a lot that feels helpful. What I was looking for was something to tell me how to fix this problem… how to fix her.  I did call our health care provider to get her evaluated.  She obviously needed help but what happened during that call surprised me.  After telling the person, a gate keeper of sorts, on the phone my situation, they were quite eager to set me up with a psychologist within 24 hours.  I was offered immediate help that I readily denied needing.  I recall at first laughing on the phone, then suddenly crying, “I found out my daughter is smoking pot and you want me to see someone!”   When the person on the phone answered “yes,” so calmly and said, “this is a difficult thing for you and it is clear you need to talk to someone,” I yelled out!  “I’m calling for an appointment for my daughter, not me! I am not the one with the problem—she is!” I hung up and didn’t call that number again.  It wasn’t until many months later that I realized how much I needed that appointment.  I should’ve, but I didn’t, and still haven’t.

I usually go to my mother when I am in need of help with my girls but I didn’t for nearly three months until things were so bad with Erika she had decided to run away from home.  I was ashamed, I was afraid, and I didn’t want to hurt my mother with the pain that was killing me.  I didn’t want my mom to see how I had failed with my child.  It wasn’t that I was afraid of her judgment—she isn’t like that.  I just knew how painful it would be for her, to tell her.  I knew she’d cry and she did when I finally did tell her.  Looking back I wish I had gone to her sooner, not just because of her wisdom but because she would have cried with me with the same pain I felt.  Maybe she’d have had answers for me before I had ruined it all.

I did send a few hints towards my church. I emailed a youth group leader with information about my second daughter, indicating she may need someone to talk because of the trauma in our home.  I went to a pastor after church asking for prayer, explaining I was parenting alone and loosing control.  I wanted the church to help me.  I wanted God to answer all of my requests.  Later I would find myself blaming the church for not helping, for not reaching out to Erika.  She had been somewhat active in superficial activities at church, she had even taught Sunday school.  Maybe it didn’t matter and nothing would have changed had someone from the church reached out to her but it still angered me that no one did.  Having spiritual help in times of need had been part of the reason we attended church and it didn’t make a difference in our lives.  God had been so good to us in the past, protecting us from disease and calamity.  He had blessed us beyond measure and then suddenly He did not seem present.  I was angry at Him too, so why would I go to him for help?

Step Five:Try to Control as Much as You Can

I think the root of much of the anger was my inability to control the situation, to control Erika.  As babies, our children are literally a part of us, attached, suckling at my breast, stuck in the crook of my arm.  They start inside of us and we control everything from the start. Once they begin walking and talking the battle begins—the battle of who’s in control.  You learn early on to choose those battles wisely if you want to win the war.  When Erika refused to wear anything unless it had lace on it, I ran out to the fabric shop and bought bits of lace to sew on all of her clothes; a lace collar for sweatshirts, bunches of lace to stick on pockets or sleeves for flair.  I felt like a genius back then.  When she was in 5^th grade we struggled with wanting Erika to read more when she was watching too much TV.  We won that battle by just getting rid of our family TV. Extreme?  Maybe, but her reading level improved immediately.  Quite honestly, until this whole drug thing hit our lives we hadn’t had many problems with Erika.  She was a good girl.  She struggled with grades, she couldn’t make the school swim team, but she always tried.  She always complied.  Later, in family therapy, we would come to find that we hadn’t learned how negotiate with Erika, we only tried to control her.  She had never asserted herself before so we never dealt with real conflict.

When she was three and she wanted to do something we said no to, we simply picked her up and physically left the situation, distracted her until it was forgotten. We spanked her in times that seemed appropriate, but that was so rare.  She was such a good kid and any disappointment we showed was met with the immediate need to please.  By her teens, she acted out so rarely.  I used to think it was our good parenting skills and now I realize how very wrong that was.  Having a fourteen and twelve year old in the home who both assert themselves a lot more than Erika ever did, I have come to understand that we are learning the dance of conflict resolution and the balance of who’s in control.  My Jessi will not be controlled, she’s had tantrums since she was two and still does.  I think it took Erika 17 years to finally get the courage to have one.  She used sex and drugs to hit and bite us instead of her arms and teeth.

Step Six: Mistrust Everything They Do

Once you find drugs in your kid’s room, it’s going to be hard not look for it again.  As much as you want to trust, it takes a lot of time and reassurance to get it back.  I found myself questioning Erika, wondering why she did things.  I checked her bags, her phone calls and noted the times of her texts.  I got a little obsessive at times.  After I would catch her in a lie and then another and another, I felt like any communication was useless because it was meaningless if it wasn’t the truth.  I had trusted her too much before opening that box and I couldn’t ever quite regain that trust again after seeing its contents. 

That is when it all seems to unravel and you get to a place you never want to be with a child.

Step Seven: Give an Ultimatum They Can’t Refuse but Do

The first time I threw out that ultimatum, my husband was still overseas serving as a reservist.  I had become so weary in the battle we call parenting.  While Erika was showering, I found a sandwich bag half full of marijuana and I grounded her.  The big Halloween party she was primping for was out of the question.  It was a party I knew she would be going to in order to drink and smoke pot—I was flushing the proof down the toilet.  I said she could not go and she said she would.  That was the moment it came out… “if you leave, then don’t come back.”

Once they leave, you don’t know if or when they are going to come back.  First I reacted in anger; I cleaned out her room, everything but the furniture.  With all of her contents in trash bags in the basement, my outrage started to wane.  Have you seen wailing mother’s at funerals in the Middle East? I kind of know where that sound comes from now.  There is a pain so deep in a mother when she begins to feel she has lost her child.  I didn’t realize I had lost Erika until that night.  Wailing is beyond weeping.  I spent that weekend crying my eyes out, weeping with that occasional wail in the moments I let my mind wonder, and envisioning all the things that could go wrong.

I wish I could say everything got better after this.  I wish I had figured out what I had done so wrong and started out fresh once she came back, but that’s not what happens when you don’t have the answers.  One tends to keep doing the same wrong things over again, but just not as badly, but sometime worse.  I finally called my mother that weekend, I called my brother too.  He got her home with some solid communication skills.  Things continued to be touch and go and even seemed to improve.

Once my husband returned, Erika’s dad had to follow the same downward spiral I had.  It made things more complicated.  Now there were two adults reacting in anger, failing to communicate, mistrusting and wanting to control her instead of one.  Obviously it didn’t get better.  We had learned together that we were doing it all wrong, but we learned.

I started trying to hug Erika and as uncomfortable as it was, my only regret was that I didn’t force myself on her sooner.  By this time all of that anger had begun to die and in the ashes of its fury were disappointment, regret, and resentment. Communication was difficult at best.  We went for help, but it was forced on Erika.  If it was not helpful for her, it was for my husband and I.  We were told ways to help the situation.  We offered ourselves to her, bought her things she needed, let go of some of our demands, tried to give her some trust back.  By this time Erika was very unwilling to cooperate.  We were told she had a drug problem but she denied it.  Her drug problem, if she indeed had one, only seemed to manifested itself in our home,  at school and work  she managed to balance school work,  two jobs and keep up a busy social life with new people, people we didn’t know.  To Erika, we were the only problem in her life.  The more we pushed her to change, the more she pulled away.  We were at an impasse, so we did it again.  We made another ultimatum, only this one was big.  I suppose if you’re going to do parenting wrong, at some point it just doesn’t matter how bad you do it.  I wrote out her choices in life.  She was graduating and she needed to decide by the day after.  Shit or get off the pot, as they say. I wrote out her ultimatum on a lunch bag and gave it to her:

If you Go to Treatment and Quit Pot

Or Keep Being a Pothead

1. work on relationship with family and stay home as long as you want 2. enjoy FREE room and board 3. free laundry service 4. we will fund your schooling 5. go to California for vacation 6.  we will teach you to drive and insure you 7. we will let you use our car 8. new computer for graduation 9. quit working your job and hanging with pothead friends & dealers 10. we will throw you a graduation/ post treatment party with all your non-pot smoking old friends

1. or don’t go to therapy 2. start looking for a place to live ASAP—move out by 6/15 3. you pay your own way 4. you have to work 5. you’re on your own 6. you’re on your own 7. you’re on your own 8. you’re on your own 9. enjoy the friendships that will ruin your life 10. we will begin calling the police when pot is on you, in your purse, etc.

 

By the time graduation came, we rescinded our ultimatum, realizing it was going to get us nowhere.  We left her with only two demands.  She had to tell us where she was going and she could not have illegal drugs in our home.  What she did on her own time was her business.  It was the first demand that she said that was unlivable.  We begged her to stay, if she could just keep those two demands we would still give her everything on the list.  We were desperate by then and it was too late.

That is when she left our lives.  She told all her friends and their parents that we kicked her out-- I suppose it gave her a story to hang her anger on.  For some reason she could ask others for help that she refused to get from us.  She turned all of our deals down; she was done negotiating with us.  We were pretty bad at it anyway.   She asserted her freedom and her will ultimately and won the battle.  We lost... and then we waited. We waited for her to understand that we did not know how to love her best, but we did and we wanted the best for her.