Impure Motives

I had to tell my husband and daughter what I’m doing here. I was afraid they would scream and yell and somehow force me to stop. But their reaction was barely a blip on the radar. It’s funny; their disinterest almost hurt. I know its better this way. It will be easier to say what I need to say here if I don’t have to look them in the eye. But I hope I can continue to sort things out by writing them here, then saying what I need to say to them. 
 

Part of the self-examination this weekend was a close look at my motives. And not all of them are pretty. I love to write and find it easier to express myself in a controlled, non-verbal, safe system. I can put the words out there and not worry about your reaction.

In some ways, I write this looking for validation. Am I really the horrible mother who screwed up her kid so bad that she turned to heroin for relief? What could I have done differently? Did I do ANYTHING right? Logically I know we did our best, but on the emotional level I want you to love me for my poetic prose and wonderful openness. And it’s easier to write out my problems here than face them; safer to tell you what I want you to see.

But I also truly hope that by sharing my journey I can help. I may not have answers, but maybe someone with similar struggles might not have to feel so alone. And I know myself well enough that having this outlet will help me sort out my feelings, help me dig deeper. And I want to remember this journey – and the good and the bad. I want to savor each step I’m making towards freedom.

So with that disclaimer, I’m ready to forge ahead. There is much of this story still to tell…