"The Last Judgement" by Hieronymus Bosch, 1482(ish)
I had a pretty big lesson in judgment yesterday. It all started with a phone call from my Dad. I don't talk to my Dad much, in fact, the last time we spoke on the phone was Christmas of 2013. It's a complicated relationship - he left when I was 7 and for a while he would take me on the weekends until his alcoholism escalated and he could no longer show up. Doesn't take Freud or Reich or Dr. Drew to figure out that all of my abandonment issues and fear of love stem from that. My Dad put alcohol in his #1 slot and because of that everything else fell to the wayside.
As most of you know I recently celebrated 13 years sober and now I can clearly see that my Dad's choices in life had nothing to do with me. That was an impossibility to understand at 7, 8, 9, 10+ years old but now I have empathy for him and I know that he suffers more than anyone. I have no idea if he's ever tried to stop drinking or even considered it but I do know that as an alcoholic myself it is a source of great shame in one's life. It was in mine.
My Dad is a very smart, funny, kind and compassionate man and he had the potential to do great things. Unfortunately, that never happened. I do not know what his darkness is and what demons he battles daily. Alcoholism is a cunning mistress and you either have it or you don't - it doesn't matter what your background is. Also, it takes A LOT of work to keep it at bay and not engage actively in it and most people afflicted by it do not overcome their fears or do not want to. Anyone who has any experiences with people that are alcoholics know, too, that you cannot force, cajole, coax, or implore someone to change unless they really want to.
My Dad called to say that Dar, his 4th wife, had passed away. After finding a cyst on her back she was diagnosed with a rapidly expanding cancer that had riddled a large portion of her body. It was too far gone for any treatment and there was nothing that could be done medically. The diagnosis was around Thanksgiving and she passed away 2 days ago. They had been together for 28 years. He said that he was a basket case but he sounded much better than I would have given the circumstances.
We talked for a while about what had been going on leading up to this horrible event. My Dad was telling me about his neighborhood and the friends they have and while he was telling me a story he nonchalantly told me a piece of information that floored me. He said in a rather matter-of -fact manner that he had a side "business" that all the local people helped him with. He said he collected cans to cash in for extra money so he didn't have to spend all his social security. It broke my heart to hear him say this. The way he said it though was so casual and without shame that it must seem completely normal to him with the lifestyle he leads.
I was faced immediately with my own harsh and nasty judgments. I call the people that collect cans "can farmers" and I get so angry when they rifle through my trash cans on garbage night. Why? Why do I judge so harshly? Ironically, my biggest, most irrational fear is that will be homeless in the streets living in a cardboard box. A lot of the people that collect cans aren't even homeless and, like my Dad, do it to get by and to survive. It's actually a noble cause and another 1/2 full view is that it aides in cleaning up the trash and recycling.
Still, here I was the person that is constantly thinking that I have to do more, make more, better myself and improve my station hearing that my Dad is a can farmer. It really put me and my ego in check. At least my Dad has caring people around him that bring him their bottles and cans because they know it helps him out. At least it's a task he can accomplish or a reason to get out of the house. I'm not sure how my Dad maintains a rather sunny disposition while constanlty faced with the grim reality of active alcoholism but somehow he does. All I know is that next time I see someone on the street with their shopping cart full of cans and bottles that I will give them a warm smile instead of rolling my eyes and putting myself above any other human.
Greg, this post is heavy duty healing. As I read on, I felt the words, your words, spilling from my mind, the judgement and the ill thoughts are just deeply rooted inside and sometimes pointing at us, by us from years of being in the dark to what our parents or loved ones struggled with because we were "too young" to understand. Now at 37, still saddened by my mother and her alcoholism, I too would find myself judging the "can farmers" and especially judge women who were-like my mother-living out of a car or box on the street. I too realized recently that its the alcohol and some pride-that she has love inside, its just not as strong as the disease. I was ready to say "fuck it, she's dead to me!" but fuck that, she is just as important as your dad, and anybody else who is struggling to make it in this vast and often cruel world. Thank you for this one Greg. You helped me move through something big here. We are all on the same path essentially. We all want peace, love, and comfort, and of course, a little bit of rock and roll. I love you and thank you for this. XO Amanda
ReplyDeleteThank you so much. I try to be as honest as possible and I think that resonates with a lot of people. It's important to shine the light on our own negativity.
Deletexoxo
This blog has meant so much to so many people. You expressed from the heart what many of us overlook in our lives. Your compassion and empathy are wonderful. It is time we all stop judging others and start looking at ourselves instead. We do not know what others suffer so we need to try and be kind and caring. We all have a lot to think about. Great job. xxxxoooo mom
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing your story with us, Greg. It can be very hard for some people to be open about their personal life or experiences, due to the fear of judgement or rejection. And I admire you for having the courage to go through this, without the need to draw it away from people. I could only imagine how much self-control it involved at first, but I believe it takes great courage and will to get through it. Anyway, I hope you and your dad are doing well.
ReplyDeleteJohnnie Smith @ Ranch Creek Recovery
Wow! You're honesty in sharing your story is really admirable. Well, it may be a hard experience , but I'm glad that you remain to be positive, despite everything. I hope that you continue to do that. You're on the right path. Thanks for sharing that, Greg! All the best to you and your dad!
ReplyDeleteNatalie Lamb @ Good life Therapy