Yesterday, I slid down the slippery slope of memory and floundered around at the bottom like a bug on its back.
Normally, I don’t allow myself to dwell in the past. Much of it didn’t go as planned, and feelings of guilt and regret are all too happy to pounce, once I arrive.
This trip to the past was not planned, nor was it triggered by the taste and smell of a petite madeleine soaked in lime blossom tea, as happened in Marcel Proust’s Remembrance of Things Past (or In Search of Lost Time, whichever title translation you prefer. It may indeed be a modern Proustian moment, as my trip was initiated by visual images from pictures of IPhones’ Past.
We have a hard drive with hundreds of saved photos from old phones, and digital cameras before that. I figured this time of renewed (never-ending?) quarantine is a perfect opportunity to organize the past into neat little chapters, based on the principle characters, namely my three kids.
I feel bad about not having photo albums or books of my children for most of their lives. More accurately, what exists is a painstakingly detailed scrap book of my oldest’s first year, and a hastily uploaded picture book of my third child’s first few months. I know my middle son’s baby book exists somewhere (hopefully not just in my mind). At any rate, I feel now is the time to change all that.
The task is overwhelming, as it takes clicking through hundreds, maybe thousands, of pictures and copying what I want to use. Several hours into my project, I started to feel kind of low and wistful. By the end of the first day of my photo preservation project, I found myself in bed early, crying in the dark, blindsided by white-hot pain. Not physical pain, but the pain tied up in memory.
All the moments and milestones were there: birthdays, holidays, vacations, first day of school, school award ceremonies, plays and events, lots and lots of sports. Just viewing the past from photos, you would think our life had been peachy.
But that time, when my boys were small and their father and I were going through a divorce and its ugly aftermath, was filled with struggle and pain. Having to accept the fact that I would only see my young children 50 percent of the time. Waking up that first Christmas morning without a husband and my boys. Dropping them off at their dad’s, my middle son only a few months old, and returning home to an empty house.
At its core, it was the realization that we messed up, and our lives were not going to contain the happy family unit I had so hoped for. Our boys would be denied any family memories of mom and dad together. For me, this was devastating, and what made it even more so was that I was also writing the script for my boys’ lives. And we all do, as parents, and that’s usually the problem.
Re-visiting those years through photos, seeing my younger son’s huge blue eyes, usually filled with some kind of worry or deer-in-the-headlights look, allowed those feelings of guilt and grief to resurface. It reminded me of why I turned to alcohol as my main coping mechanism; to try to find some kind of relief from the nagging feeling that we screwed it all up and our children would likely be forever broken. During that time, I didn’t care about how I wasn’t taking care of myself (or my children) as we deserved. All I wanted was oblivion.
It sounds cowardly now, but in that season of fresh disappointment and despair, it made sense. As a parent, you are responsible for the lives of your children. There are a million things that can go wrong. Many of these things are out of our control; but my own bad choices were shaping my kids’ lives. And for someone with such high hopes for a close-knit family life filled with happy times, this was unacceptable.
Addiction is often an ingredient in a life laced with traumatic events. Although only a single ingredient, it also contributes to the trauma, creating a compounding effect. I sought out alcohol, which was already a long-standing influence in my life at that point, as a crutch to give me the support I needed when everything around me was falling apart. But what it really did was create more layers of rubble.
That was well over a decade ago, those years of divorce and drinking and despair. I look through these pictures and I want to go back and comfort myself–and my kids. The smiles were forced, at least mine were. I was showing up but not attending. Going through the motions but not taking it in. Skimming along the surface. Wishing time away. Wondering how it was ever going to make sense again.
Somewhere along the way, things did start making sense. I stopped fighting the fact that we were not an in-tact family and started expanding my definition of what a family could look like. I went back to school, and started to embrace the life that was waiting for me. Life on the other side of divorce and despair.
A few years later, I met the man who is now my husband and we began to navigate the journey of blended families and co-parenting. It has not been easy, but there have been beautiful blessings along the way, such as my daughter, Amelia Grace.
I still feel a huge debt to my two sons. I am sorry in ways I didn’t know existed before I became a parent. But I can’t take back what’s happened and all I can do is continue to clear the rubble and provide them with love and strong support.
My boys were too young to know anything different than the 50/50 custody routine. Some argue that it’s better not to know a time when your parents were together than to have to adjust to them apart. Yet I know that the desire to see your parents as a united force under one roof exists within us all.
Either way, I have come to realize how resilient children are. This doesn’t excuse the tragedy that many have to go through, whether caused by man or forces of nature. Even though I did not provide my kids with a traditional, nuclear family environment, I know and they know, they were and are loved around every turn.
And a year and a half ago, I did the biggest thing I knew how for them. I quit drinking and started living. For them. For me. For us.
I started showing up through the struggles, because much as I would like them to, struggles don’t go away. I started looking my boys in the eyes and having real conversations. Building trust and strong supports.
I know that I’m not unique in the “messing up” category, and that most if not all of us make big mistakes. But the mistakes feel unique and heavy to each of us, and we all need to make our individual peace with them. We can let them continue to paralyze us, like a bug on its back, or we can choose to strive for more. To be defined not by our struggles, but by our strength.
As for my remembrance of things past, I will continue my project and compose my books. Acknowledging that some chapters are messier than others, and some are downright sad. But the whole story is beautiful because the overall theme is love.
I have to say Collette that this made me cry a little. I’m struggling with my two boys growing up. I’ve
locked away the emotions that stirs up in me because I just can’t face them. I’ve been burying the inevitable grief that comes with children getting older … with alcohol, with distractions, with anything really. Now I have to deal with it. I can’t even look at photos but I want to do what you have done and sort through them. It’s just too hard.
You, the loveliest of people, have not let your boys down. You lost your way is all. Understandable because you were dealing with all sorts of upheaval. We are not machines, we fall down and we fail. But it is not true failure if we find out feet and we start living. Whatever way that may be. Your boys (and your daughter) are immensely lucky to have a mum like you. Just you remember that. ❤️❤️❤️
Ah, I’m sad that you can relate because that means you know my pain. All we can do is be kind to ourselves and remember that we (and our kids) are stronger than we think. And much of that strength has been borne out of struggle. I am going to follow through with the picture project, as hard as it may be, and you should too. One day we will thank ourselves that we have them. 💕 xx
You know … I will.
I’ll finish my cross stitch and then sort through them. I’m conscious we take very few now as well which is a shame really.
I’m going to print some and put in albums too. It’ll rake up feelings but maybe that’s what I need to do ..face what is inevitable and find peace with it. Xxx
And thank you so much for your kind words… they mean a lot!❤️
This is a Beautiful post. I’m sure many of us can relate to it. My kids were five and eight when I divorced and I also went down the 50/50 path.
You are right, kids are so resilient. You have surrounded
them with love and honesty and
it sounds like they are growing up to be fine children.
As others have said, Addiction begins and ends in pain. I too went off the rails after the divorce. Alcohol was the the easiest thing at my disposal. Yes, alcohol messed us all up in many ways, but as we know, it also got us to where we are now. I’m not sure why, but it appears that pain and suffering are required to help us all ‘grow up.’ I wish there was another way but I haven’t come across it yet. All those I admire have similar stories of pain.
Cheering you on from afar. Keep writing – You do it so well. 👍🏻
Thank you for your kind words and insights. I appreciate your perspective, turning the disastrous past into something fortunate. And maybe I should trust that my children’s challenges, though not their fault, will bring about strength and growth and good. Take care! Xx
I was just thinking about mother’s guilt today and reminding myself to be kind (to myself).
Yes, so true. Thank you! 💕
I know exactly what you mean about that look in your son’s eyes! That is exactly what gets me with my kids too. Not even necessarily from looking at photos, sometimes just remembering specific times when they had that worry look.. deer in the headlights thing. Oh my gosh I have stories. Maybe someday. Thanks for sharing. Oddly now I know I’m not alone in these kinds of feelings.
Oh, Janet, I knew you’d know. It’s just like that. We are all too eager to heap the guilt on ourselves. That’s who I try not to travel there often… I need to remember though, that life is a struggle for all, and people—children—are resilient. Hope you are doing well. 💕
Hi Collette. I definitely agree with acknowledging that some chapters are messier than others. This acknowledging is huge as we tend to shut it down and push it away or hide from it. By just letting it be and by clearly seeing it with acceptance and self-love there does come relief. This allows the discomfort to wash away. It may come back many times but by being courageous and allowing, you are releasing the dukkha each time. Big hugs to you🤗
Yes, admitting and acknowledging is the key to releasing, and accepting. Thank you, Dwight. Hope you are well! 💕
Beautiful and painfully hard to read. I feel this in my soul. Photo days are always hard. So much emotion.
Thank you, Shannon. Yes, it brings it all back, but gives us the chance to face things again with some healing time in between. Glad I’m on the right path at last. 💕
What a beautiful touching post Collette <3 I am so glad you've made it this far, and I am sure your kids love you and are grateful for everything you have done for them. Also, as a kid of parents who stayed together in a dysfunctional marriage, my sibling and I often wondered why they never got a divorce and wished that they did. Maybe despite all the pain, that was a necessary part of the journey that led you here to who you are now! xxx Big hugs and HUGE wink at the Proust translation title reference, it made me smile a lot 🙂 xxxx Anne
I thought about that too, Anne. About kids who grow up in unhappy marriages, kids who grow up with only one parent, or no parents, and came to the conclusion that life is a struggle. I don’t even know if the perfect happy childhood even exists, yet as parents we all feel like that’s what we need to give our kids. But I think, like you said, pain is necessary and it brings about something good, be it strength, wisdom, gratitude or love. And yes, had to give a nod to Proust in discussing memory 😉 🥰 Take care! Xx
yes I think you’re right: there is no perfect childhood, which is why most of our guilt comes from comparing our own situation to the fantasy of “perfect parenting” – but the latter doesn’t exist 🙂 So as usual, gentleness with oneself self-forgiveness, all that seems like a good way to go 🙂 <3 xxxx Anne
That’s right my darling. Look where the journey took you. The best is yet to come. <3
So true. Thank you, dear one. 💕
Beautiful and heartfelt post….and the healing continues❣️❣️🤗🤗❤️❤️
One thing for sure is your indomitable will to live a healthy life😊
You have become stronger through the pain and I think scars can be used to remind us of what we endure and overcome 🤗
Thank you Teri. I always appreciate your wisdom and insight. 😘
I think you’re doing life wonderfully! And I’ll add that as we continue to pursue growth and evolve, whether in recovery or not, it’s typical to run through our mistakes and regrets. I believe it’s part of the process of forgiveness – purging our unhealthy past that keep us from being lighter. I go through it too.
Hug
I only got divorced last year, after25 years together. The decision to divorce was very hard, as I had a strong attachment to not hurting the kids.
But the kids are fine. They knew their dad cheated and they were extremely supportive of me.
I’m happy to still be sober through all this. As a single parent now I need to be available now more than ever.
Life is full of change.
Stillness and peace,
Anne
Oh Collette this resonated so much for me – I was very ‘married’ to the idea of a happy stable family to the point I drank to deal with my unhappiness through my children’s childhood and then split up anyway – it’s been difficult and the pain of causing them pain is the worst I’ve known but we are all in a better place now and that is a lot to do with not drinking and being more authentic in who I am. I think your kids are very lucky to have you and I think they probably know that too! Good luck with the albums and the memories xx💞💞
Thank you, dear one. I’m sorry you can relate, but I’m really thankful we’ve both moved through the drinking days and are in a better place with our children. Maybe it takes going through the bad to really appreciate the good. 😘
Sending you many hugs. I’ve feel like in the past I’ve messed up big time. But I guess finally I learned and it made me a better person, a better dad. We all mess up. If we didn’t we wouldn’t grow. You always seem like the most wonderful person and most wonderful mum. I’m not usually wrong on that and certainly not in your case. x
Thank you for the permission to mess up and be imperfect. It’s a process of aligning our expectations of ourselves and the life we think we “should” have. And at the same point not lowered our expectations to the point that we have nothing that gives us meaning or to strive for. The present is the place to find peace though, for sure.