Today finds me at a strange impasse. I am ready to let go; beyond ready, I am WANTING to let go yet there is this incessant part of me that is resilient. It’s that part I want to speak of. I hope in describing it perhaps someone can bring to light what it is. I seem unable to shed enough light on it myself to articulate it in a way that the rational portion of my brian can comprehend. I fell for a man who SEVERELY disappointed me and I’m happy and full now without even the hope of his reciprocation. But there is a part of me that isn’t happy I’m happy about it. “It” being being without him. And here is where I fall short on articulation. I believe it is because I am still worried about him. The ways he disappointed me were HUGE; he is a drug addict, alcoholic and I believe he has an unhealthy attraction to significantly younger people in general. He seems to want to live in a world he should have grown out of 15 years ago. That scares me because his life’s work is working with these young people to help make their lives better. But how can he make their lives better when he’s drawing his life from them? It’s like he’s leaching off their youth to maintain his own. It’s scary. Yet I’ve seen this behavior in other addicts I’ve known. The worse their addictions get, the younger their friends get. Because young people are easier to manipulate and follow willingly without asking “is this right?” What is more scary is his self destruction. His drug abuse and denial is widdling away at his soul and he’s not what even he wants to be, not really anyway. I know this man has not only hurt me. I have access to information that has allowed me to see the wake of broken hearts he’s left because of his sickness. And so I worry for him. I’d like to see him happy. I’d like to see him in love and peaceful but there doesn’t seem to be any peace for him. There doesn’t seem to be an awareness or ability for him to be anything but a slave to his impulses and he is defending this sickness with all his energy. And that’s what scares me. He is defending his weakness instead of attacking it. Instead he is attacking everybody or lesson that would help to heal him. He is a sick person but I do not believe somebody’s sickness legitimizes the way they treat others. A drunk driver who kills someone in a car accident is still a killer. “I only did it because I was drunk” just doesn’t cut it as an excuse. But because, in this case, the “killer” is the one I care for, I pray constantly that something will happen to him that will wake him up without destroying him or his future. Every day I still think of him. My thoughts no longer make me cry or hurt or question my self or my self-worth and for the most part I am so happy to not have the burden that is caring about him in my face every day. But it’s still in my heart. I care for him. And wish to God he would care for himself. The little part of me that tugs back, resistant to the letting go that the majority of me is craving, is the guilty feeling that I didn’t do enough, that he still needs to be saved and I shouldn’t be giving up the rescue mission. It isn’t right minded. I’ve read the literature, blogs, and watched the T.V. doctors talk about it.  The only person that can “save” an addict is the addict themselves. And so I’m frightened. Because I’m not sure he likes himself enough to save. There are other problems at play with this man. I’ve been working in special education for the past 11 years in one capacity or another (substitute teacher, paraprofessional, private tutor…) and the first day I spent with him I knew he was the adult version of so many of the children I’d worked with. I always wondered what happened to them. Do they get to have normal lives? I suppose the answer is yes if they can learn about themselves enough to realize not how to change themselves for others but how to relate to others with their unique and intriguing minds. Having a ‘disability’ is not always a disability. Often it is that beautiful variant that makes a human being spectacular. But there is a dissonance with this man. As if he has all the facilities to help others understand his mind but would rather hide it. I think he hates who he is. I think he is ashamed of himself, not for the bad behavior that is resulting from his hiding (which is the scary part- that’s the stuff he defends), but for the unique mind he has, his ‘disability’. He has covered it up with arrogance and flare. He has found  a way to allow the horrible things he does, to live with them, in order to keep that part of him hidden. And in doing so he chips away at his own soul. Because he is a good person. And he wants good things for others and for his world. But he is a bad thing, hurting others and his world instead of changing them and it for the better. And he’s doing it because he chooses to live as a man in a mask that doesn’t seem to have eye holes. I’m not sure it has nostril wholes either and breathing through the mouth can lead to hyperventilation which further distorts the mind. But he is CHOOSING to live this way. He knows there are other options. For GOD SAKE, he helps other’s see those options but ignores them when it comes to himself.
Take off that mask.
Breath with your nose and see with your eyes and give your mouth a rest- shut it. Stop blaring your message to others and tell it to your own heart. I know you have one. No, not one that loves me or has anything to do with what you think I expect from you, but one that loves that strange and unique part of you. One that isn’t ashamed that you’re different, a difference that makes you better, not less, if you’d just own it. Until you, – this man- owns it he has no hope of changing all the negative choices he’s making to cover it. So many addicts are people who hide. People who’d rather kill themselves and destroy their world and sometimes others in order to keep hiding. But you can stop at anytime and change your life. Only then will you really be able to change the world. Until then, you’re just helping to mess it up some more.
I’ve discovered the power of prayer. With my whole heart I will pray for you. It’s sounds stupid and cliche but I think this is the one thing that may work. It is 100% a leap of faith but I am not scared of it. It’s the one thing that ALL of me, even that little resilient part that just will not quit you, agrees on. I read somewhere that “I’ll pray for you” translates to “I wish you the best without having to do anything to actively help you”. Perhaps with some people and in some situations that is true. In this case, it couldn’t be farther from the truth. The only reason I’m not with you right now, hog tying you and dragging your ass into rehab, is because it wouldn’t work. Not coming from me. This little blog, this subtle and detached effort, is the only way I can touch you and prayer may be the only way I can help you, without hurting myself. You did after all attack me. I kinda don’t want to be around you. But I’m pulling for you. No matter what you think of me, I’m pulling for the best of you, despite the worst of you, even through the worst of you. My prayer is my pull and it’s inexhaustible 🙂

“My prayer is my pull and it’s inexhaustible”

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