Celebrating Mediocrity....

 A friend of mine has been in recovery for over twenty years. 

Someone once told her that of all the addictive substances out there, the most addictive is motherhood.  Motherhood is legal, everyone seems to be doing it, and it gets glorified on TV, magazines, and social media. This unrealistic glorification, makes the messy, difficult, mind numbingly exhausting realities of motherhood, daunting and hopeless. Once you get your first taste, you crave them with every ounce of your being when they're not there allowing your mind to delve into paranoia (see: they're dead in a ditch somewhere, I just know it, and endless nights of sleepless worry), yet get overwhelmed with angst when you're completely enveloped by them (see: lost in the weeds, locking myself in the bathroom.).   And yet despite this, motherhood always leaves you wanting more. In fact, the more kids you have, the higher the highs, and the more devastating the lows.

Motherhood is the habit you'll never, ever, be able to quit. 

In my post before last, I was accepting the reality of who this new version of Youngest is. The college stickers came off the cars, the dorm accessories have been sold. I forgot to cancel his med appointment, and not wanting to pay the hefty cancellation fee, I mentioned that I was going to sit on it if he'd like to join me. He opted to sit on it early, and leave me to finish it.  He's doubled his medications, and added an ADD medicine that he was successful with as a kid. The doctor's thought is that once the meds readjust, he may not need to self medicate as much and can move forward. He's missed one dose in three weeks.

The girlfriend and he seem to be done, though she's been over a few times. He's had maybe two "friends" over, alleviating the parking lot of cars we once had. I'd be lying if I said I thought we've turned a corner or that the new dosage of meds was a Hail Mary. But I am seeing small glimpses of a decent human being amongst the complete stupidity that is this nineteen year old living in the house. 

The other night he hugged me for no reason.  Like, no words, just really hugged me in the kitchen.  That hasn't happened in probably 6 years, and that's probably generous.

He took a college class at the local community college over the summer.  It was a miserable failure.  Two weeks before the final he was sitting at a 25%.  A Twenty five.  He wanted to quit. I told him there was a difference between cutting his losses and quitting.  Cutting his losses means that he's done what he can to make it work, but finally just accepting that it wasn't going to happen.  Quitting is just that, quitting. And no matter who he has become, quitting was never a part of who he was, ever.

So he worked.  And worked. Every day for two weeks....

Is it his best?  Hell no.  

And while I've never been one to celebrate mediocrity, this C means he doesn't have to start over, again. It means he can take that one, however tiny, step towards a life other that getting stoned in the garage.

Fall semester starts in 13 days. It has been paid for, and aside from a scheduling snafu, which he actually made a point to come home and fix with me today without my asking, he's enrolled full time. 

He's also opted to come on vacation with us, and while his idea of a fun vacation and mine are vastly different, I conceded with two conditions.  First, since I asked him before booking, whatever tickets I have already purchased would be paid for in full if he bailed out on them, and second, his location on his phone to be turned on so if he falls asleep in some bud induced haze on the beach and we had to be somewhere, we could find him.

He said that would be fine. 

Stay tuned....