There’s me and my little grandboy. I know you can’t see his beautiful little face, but I always feel bad about posting pictures of anyone here, it is not my right to do that – at least without permission. Since my son doesn’t even know about his mother’s blogging activities, I am not going to ask his permission.
Today I will be sending out two e-mails, with massive distribution, announcing that I am leaving my current job. Oh, how I have dreamed of this moment.
My ex-husband and I talked yesterday about my regrets about early sobriety. He listened, and then said “but that’s what got you where you are Myrrh.” (he always called me Myrrh.) Someone else could have said that, actually they have, and it would just sound like nice things you say to someone. But when he said it, he came from a place of knowing me deeply. Knowing me when I was a young woman – just five years away from my last drink! Knowing my family, knowing my father. Knowing that I was not welcome in my father’s home in his last years. Knowing that the father of my children brutally tore my children away from me and all that happened in the aftermath of that.
In the heyday of John Bradshaw and his ilk, we decided to nurture the inner adult – our inner children had ruled us for so many years. We decided not to inspect our souls for any sign of abuse, maybe doing past-life regressions if unable to find it in this life. We opted not to call ourselves victims. In that process, we neglected to do anything about what we knew was the truth. We were both adults who had been so deeply wounded in childhood that we might never be functional people.
OK, enough of this! It is a gorgeous day, springtime in the Rockies at its very finest. I am driving to work because I have to leave early for an appointment across town. I will sit with my boss and help her plan for my departure. You know what? I don’t even care if anyone regrets that I have gone. I just wanna be gone, gone, gone. And I am gonna, gonna, gonna be!
Lord Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.
onesobercatholic 
Lovely to see you holding your little grandson.
Complicated conversation with your ex-husband, by the sound of it. I wonder if his journey has been as hard and joyful at times as yours.
I am quite certain his journey has been much more difficult than mine.
Awww look at you Mary. A wise and strong and gentle woman who is always learning. I can see from the back of his head that he is extraordinary! No need to show his beautiful face. ;o)
It is a comfort to be known like that by someone else huh. I am glad you got to talk to your ex-hubs. It sounds like it was good.
Awwww, Annette, you are too kind.
Talking to my ex is always a flurry of feelings. As I age, I am finding these conversations to be reflective and a bit sad. With always an undertone of “why couldn’t we have done better with this thing we had?”
I am learning what having an inner child is about because alcoholism made me such an adult at an early age. Interesting how the disease affects each of us.
Nice photo of you and the grandchild.
What a complicated mess we have when we are raised by alcoholics! For me, further complicated by my own alcoholism. I too was an adult almost from birth. I was completely self-sufficient by the age of 5! Cooked my own meals, did my own laundry, even ironed my dresses! But by the age of 14, I was fed up, had my first drink and found my inner brat. That brat had control of me for 18 years. By the time I got sober, I truly needed to find an adult within. But I think I went too far 😦
loving a peek at my Mary, remembering our stroll through San Antonio.
Thanks for reminding me of that! It sure was special.