Day 15: Hard Lessons

DAY 15: HARD LESSONS - Write about a lesson you had to learn the hard way

Here is a lesson that I’ve learned the hard way and still struggle with: I have no control over people or their behavior. I can only control myself. It took a lot of therapy and twelve-step meetings to convince me that I was wasting time and energy butting my head against a stone wall.

When I was twelve, my parents were already heavily invested in going to their Deaf social club and drinking heavily. I was left in charge of my 10-year-old brother. My parents would tell us to go to bed at ten. My brother usually conked out around then, but I stayed up. I had it in my head that if I stayed awake until they came home, they wouldn’t get into a car crash and die.  This kind of magical thinking went on right through my high school years.

It seems silly now, thinking that staying awake would control the safe return of my parents.

I mentioned in another post that Mom suffered from an undiagnosed mental illness. The drinking worsened for the mail her symptoms. I used to think that if my brother and I stayed on our best behavior and tried to please her, we could control her outbursts.  That was another failed attempt to control someone’s behavior.

Even though it was an ineffective method of coping, a need to control things so everything would be all right had become ingrained in me through adulthood. 

In truth, being a Coda sort of reinforced that strategy. From a young age, I was my parents' interpreter. The older I got, the more they would depend on me to make the best choices on how to react to issues that would arise. They would tell me, "You're hearing. You know the right thing to do."

I wrote earlier that my first husband, Rich, was diagnosed with Marfan Syndrome. Marfan Syndrome affects the whole body because it stretches connective tissue. It was the reason why Rich suffered congestive heart failure at age 28. A surgeon at Johns Hopkins saved him by replacing his aortic valve but he needed to make behavior changes: he needed to stay away from cigarettes, and he needed to lose weight.

Rich struggled with both. We quit smoking cold turkey when I became pregnant with our firstborn. I set down a rule: No more smoking. Not at home, not at work, not ever. I was able to stick to it, but Rich wasn’t. We didn’t work for the same company anymore, so he would smoke there.

One day, I smelled smoke on him. He tried to say it was another co-worker smoking near him, but it was on his breath, and I wasn’t buying it. I made a great big stink about it and pulled a guilt trip on him. If he continued to smoke and hurt his heart further, he might die and then what would our child and I do?

I thought guilt-tripping as a way to control Rich’s smoking worked.  I didn't detect any relapses for the next ten-plus years.

I was wrong.

After he passed away, co-workers brought all his personal effects. They included books of matches and an ashtray. I was surprised. “Did Rich smoke?” I asked.

They looked uncomfortable and then one of the guys admitted that yes, Rich would sometimes smoke with them outdoors during break time.

So, trying to control Rich’s smoking was a total failure too.

The thing is, by that point, I knew it was an ineffective strategy.  I’d been to therapy and twelve-step meetings, but I guess I hadn’t really and truly admitted that I had no control over anyone. I could only control my own thoughts, feelings, and behavior.

I am participating in the American Cancer Society’s challenge to write for thirty minutes each day in May. I do a lot of writing and I can meet this challenge. I plan to make a blog entry each day with what I’ve written.

I wanted to participate in memory of loved ones who fought cancer bravely but succumbed:

My brother-in-law Jeff

My sister-in-law Ann

My dear friend Kay

My Uncle Bob

My Uncle John

 

I also wanted to help raise money to support research and a cure for those currently fighting this vicious disease.

My Facebook to the fundraiser is here.