Sunset Beach Pier, Sunset Beach, NC
I haven't written anything in so long, except in my head, that I am not sure where to begin. The only use this blog has seen has been the search bar as when I look for recipes. I still have this blogspot blog and still haven't figured out how to transfer the content to my other one. Maybe one day.
Life got in the way of writing. I thought that the life events of the past few years would inspire me to write, but that just did not happen. Oh, I wrote stories in my head while in the shower, but they never made it to either paper or my keyboard. I bought journals. They sat empty, staring at me, hoping to be of some use. I bought pens. It's kind of an obsession with me. I used them to make to-do and grocery store lists. They have a higher purpose. They stand at attention in my pen cup, waiting to be called into active duty.
So, what happened? Life turned to black and white for me. Covid hit the world. I had a student trip to France planned for March 2020 that was cancelled about 10 days before departure. I thought that our head of school was being unreasonably paranoid. But by the time we would have returned, the US borders were closed. So, I had one last weekend of fun attending the wedding of my BFF's oldest son in Wilmington. Alone. The Ex-Ex believed that the Covid threat was real. School shut down. I learned how to use Microsoft Teams, Zoom, Loom and any other number of online tools for teaching. I took online courses on how to teach online. I hated every second of it. I did a lot of neighborhood walking. It was a lovely spring. Thank you, God. I baked a lot of bread. When I could find yeast. Seems I wasn't the only one firing up the oven. Thank you, SG, for supplying yeast and to all who graciously accepted my misshapen loaves. We wore masks and we stayed home. For what seemed like an eternity. None of my close friends or relatives died. That was a blessing. Once again, thank you, God. I finally got back to traveling with my students in June 2022. I caught Covid and tested positive the day I returned. I lived upstairs, recovering from Covid and jet lag. Thank you, doctors and scientists, for the vaccines I gladly received. My case was minor. Life is back to normal. Well, our new normal anyway. A story for the history books.
The second blow to my life was much more difficult. I learned that Son #1 is an addict. There were signs that I refused to heed until I could no longer deny it. I write about it with his permission. He talks openly about it at his meetings and we talk about it as a family. I cannot imagine his struggle. I can only speak about mine. I felt cheated. I came into this life as the child of an alcoholic and I am going to leave it as the mother of an addict? Seriously, God? What did I do wrong? I felt overwhelming guilt and examined every mistake I made as a mother. And to be honest, there is still some lingering guilt. I saw my therapist. She suggested finding a Nar-Anon Family Group. I found one that meets just right up the street from me (although the meetings are now online due to Covid). I got some literature from the group and read through it and realized, after reading the Serenity Prayer and the 12 Steps, that I had found my people. People who knew exactly what I was/am going through. We got Son #1 home finally after he detoxed. The world's most amazing little girl, my granddaughter, moved in with her maternal grandparents. Thank you, T and G. We still did not know what we were dealing with however. We didn't realize that addiction can rarely be helped by oneself. Relapse happened right under our roof. More denial. More sleepless nights. More resentment. Mostly fear. Fear robs you of joy. My life was joy-less. What do you write about when you have no joy? And who would even want to read it? We were not ready to share our story. Neither Son #1 nor me. A friend of mine in whom I confided because she had confided in me about her son's addiction told me about a program in Raleigh. Thank you, Friend. I called, left a message, and a person called me back. He had been through the program, was now employed there, and he gave me his cell phone number and told me to call him when my son was ready to get help. Thank you, B. That day came the Saturday before I was to leave for my June 2022 student trip. I had been planning it for months, I had 16 people who had invested thousands of dollars depending on me to make this an amazing experience. The Ex-Ex was rightfully afraid to be home alone though. Our son had overdosed and had been home from the hospital for only a few days. We had a heated discussion about it standing in the hallway of our home. Son #1 came downstairs with his backpack and announced that he was ready to go. As he now tells the story, I had him in the car as quickly as possible and came only to a rolling stop at Healing Transitions before kicking him out. My contact met us there and took over. That was 13 months ago. He only called us once to come get him, about three weeks into the program. We said no. He had by then figured out that I did not tell him that he would be sleeping on the floor at first and that this is a 9-12 month program. After he moved into HT, while I was in France, I got a call from the woman in charge of families. She reached out to me about their support group. I found another group of people who know what it is like to have an addicted love one. Thank you, RS. I have learned so much about addiction. I can put away the anger that I have felt for so many years for my dad. I realize now that it wasn't just weakness on his part or a lack of love for his family. My dad's alcoholism and my son's addiction are not about me. I probably passed on a gene, but that is not my fault. I have learned that I am in control of very little in this world. I am in control of me, my actions and my thoughts. I have learned that self-care is of the utmost importance if I am to get through this. I have learned that acceptance brings hope. Son #1 has made some incredible life-long friends. Friends who will see him through this if he continues to allow them to. Thank you, JC (and family), FJ and many, many more. He is learning to accept himself just as I am learning to accept myself. Shortcomings and all. I have rediscovered joy and found a slice of serenity. I am trying to take life one day at a time and not "borrow trouble" as Mama Mildred has often reminded me. Thank you, Ex-Ex, Son #2 and Amazing Daughter-in-law, the BFF, and others who allowed me to rage, cry, and generally lose my sanity. Thank you, Son #1 for your courage and bravery.
I still feel the need to post a recipe, just like in the old days. I found this one and gave it a try and plan to make it again soon. It's that good.
Baked Gruyère Tomato Bruschetta from Half Baked Harvest
I shopped for the ingredients at my local Trader Joe's. Yep, I left my zip code and drove to Chapel Hill!
1 baguette, halved, each half cut into 4 pieces
1/4 c. basil pesto
1 lb. shredded Gruyère cheese (it can be expensive, but less so at Trader Joe's) or Gouda or a mixture
1 Tbsp. chopped fresh thyme or rosemary
4 cloves garlic, grated
Sea salt, black pepper, chili flakes, to taste
2 tsp. honey
1 c. cherry tomatoes, sliced in half
3 oz. prosciutto, torn in pieces
Olive oil, for drizzling
Fresh basil, for serving
Preheat oven or grill to 425˚F.
Arrange baguette halves on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper. Spread evenly with pesto, then add the cheese.
Mix the garlic, rosemary/thyme and chili flakes with your fingers, then sprinkle over the cheese. Drizzle with honey. Add the tomatoes. Drape the prosciutto over the tomatoes. Drizzle everything with olive oil.
Bake for 10 minutes, until cheese is bubbly. Top with fresh basil. Eat warm and enjoy with extra honey, sea salt and freshly ground black pepper, if desired.
Bon appétit and a grand merci to all out there who are our supporters and cheerleaders. You know who you are.
God grant me the Serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the Courage to change the ones I can, and the Wisdom to know the difference.
