Coffee Chat: Another Season


Hello dears.  Come in and join me for a lovely cup of something hot.  I've got good old Maxwell House coffee and a very good English breakfast tea both of which fill one with the necessary warmth to brave this cold weather we are having.  I highly recommend the tea with a Walker's Shortbread cookie.  You'll find it both makes you feel refined and cozy, a rather luxurious state to be in.  I think of myself sitting near the fire and communing with some of the characters in my many English novels.  

Have a seat dear, do have a seat and let's talk.  It's been a while, hasn't it?  I've nothing in particular in mind just yet to say but these conversations tend to evolve into their own thing anyway, so we shall see where we go.


It's cold.  We went down to 17F last night and that is cold.  We slept with the propane heater on, and a kettle of water simmering on the stove.  We opened the doors on sink cabinets so the warmth of the house could penetrate, and we left faucets dripping.  We turned on the pump house light.  We piled covers on the bed and wore socks to sleep in.  I told John that if we lived now as I grew up, I'd buy both of us nightcaps to wear to bed to help conserve body heat.

I didn't sleep but a few hours and then I awoke.  I got up and checked the faucet and found it had stopped dripping, so I turned it up a wee bit higher.  I put water in the kettle.  I came back to crawl into the warm bed and snuggle into the covers and suddenly I was in the home I lived in as a teen.  It was a big old house in the country and there we did all the things I had done this night to prepare for the winter weather.  I recalled how very cold my own room had always been.  I'd wrap up in sweaters and blankets and do my homework sitting on the bed, periodically warming my icy fingers. At night I'd crawl under the covers with a lovely electric blanket over me and a heavy quilt atop the spread and read chapter after chapter of my library book or listen to music.

It was odd to me to remember that room, in that house.  That home was my least happy part of childhood to be honest and I seldom recall days there, though I can walk the rooms via memory any day, a familiar place where I know I do not belong and did not then.  It was a season I had to walk through.  

Why it was that home should be so clear to me in the wee hours this morning is beyond me.  Perhaps because it was cold...I was cold.  And the cold of that home penetrated to the very depth of my soul, not just my physical body.  It was there I realized that I didn't belong to the family into which I'd been born, that I was not wanted, that I was alone.

But even seasons of that sort have worth.  I began to write in this home, to journal and explore through reading more than just juvenile romance and the English countryside to which I longed to flee.  I explored my aching soul and I found, for the first time, God.  I try to remember this in any hard season now, that each one is here to teach us something, to show us something we haven't seen before.

Caleb is finally in Montessori school full-time.  It's a rather casually scheduled thing.  It's a good school, but the Doctor of Education who runs it is about my age I think, and her husband is retired so the schedule is not only loosely based on the county school calendar but also upon her own personal schedule, and whim, etc. Caleb went back last Monday but missed Tuesday because they closed for the proposed bad weather and then again on Friday for a training day and on Monday for Martin Luther King Day.   So, it's all a bit iffy and means I am on standby for the odd days, as well as picking him up each afternoon as they close at 5pm.  Cody, Katie's partner, will keep Caleb and his daughter on the days that he has off from the school system, so that is helpful, but his county days don't line up with ours exactly.  

I've had more of my time returned to me, which is lovely and has meant I've gotten loads of things done over the past week.   It's also meant, as I sorted out closets and drawers, that I've had time to think hard back over the events of the last five years, especially those times in which I kept Caleb more often than not.  And how difficult I found it to adjust my mind, attitude and heart to the things that were required of me at the time. This in addition to trying to balance the needs of my walking wounded, not quite stable at the time, daughter and my husband who admitted feeling jealous and selfish of my time. I was overwhelmed.  I admitted it then and I admit it now.  I barely managed most days to get through the days attempting to meet the needs of others, often neglecting myself because I was too tired to even attempt to add one more thing to my days.

People told me constantly that what I was doing for Caleb would be the making of him...and perhaps, perhaps.  But what no one told me was that Caleb would forever change me.   I discovered that my mothering/nurturing instinct is strong, stronger when it comes to my grandchildren.  Not to say I am true and right in all of my choices or decisions, but my instincts hadn't died.   I did the best I could with less concern of whether or not I was doing it perfectly, and with the daily knowledge that where I failed, I could attempt to set that right within minutes rather than never.  That was different than in years past.  I have realized that I will make mistakes.  They won't prove fatal, and I can try, try, again.

But I struggled hard in other ways.  I overstepped Katie's parenting at times.  I lost patience more than I ought to have done when others failed to help.  I allowed myself to be so consumed with the immediate needs before me that I failed to notice that others were struggling and suffering and that caused a rift in the family.  Overwhelm, distraction, busyness, weariness, might well have been the reasons I gave...I failed. 

But there is Caleb.  He made me laugh, be more compassionate to the sensitivities of others especially those, frustrated me and taught me to keep trying.  He brought me a patience of character I had never before quite grasped.  He reminded me of the wonder of being a child in this great wide world.  He reminded me that I love natural things and how much I wanted to impart that love to him and the other children. He pushed me to do the things I least felt like doing. He taught me to stop and love in the moment and not push away hugs and snuggles and kisses until it was convenient.  He grew me.  

I learned to let Katie be the healthier person she'd become through diligence upon her own part.  I learned to take John's needs not as another demand but as part of the things I must do, just as he took my own needs seriously.  We learned the importance all over again of consciously taking time to reconnect and check in, not just on one another but on our marriage.   I learned to stop demanding more and to take what I could get when it came to time.  Towards the end, when I'd ceased to struggle against the bars that prevented my doing the things I wanted, when I had ceased to feel trapped, I found myself humming along in my daily routine, happy, certain of myself in a way I hadn't been in a long while and resentful when that was interrupted. 

Those cues I'd missed of another's confusion and hurt exploded and rent our family.   

My lovely Bess has left the family for the time.  I won't say permanently, but for a time, God willing.  She got a mental health diagnosis last summer that we none of us understood.  As difficult as we found it to navigate Katie's own mental illness, it's harder to handle Bess's.  Katie's condition is under control, owing in great part to her willingness to pursue help when medications fail to work any longer, to work through therapy and through painstaking processes of controlling behaviors.   

Bess's condition is different.  Hers is unlikely to respond to medications and ongoing therapy is required.  Unfortunately, it is also a condition that is very resistant to wanting/seeing the need of therapy.

Do not for one moment think I am in any way against Bess.  She has been a good wife, an excellent mother, a loving daughter and daughter-in-law. I considered her a friend.  We were all aware in the past year or two that something odd was going on with her, something we could none of us put our finger upon.  We thought perhaps, given the number of years married, that Sam and Bess had hit one of those rough patches that come along in every marriage, when things are just hard and difficult and lonely.  We thought perhaps, given her struggles with other things that was rearing its ugly head once again.  But it wasn't that.  There came that mental health diagnosis which none of us really understood or took time to research.  And then suddenly, or so it seemed, the words separation and then divorce were uttered.  Bess walked away from marriage, from children, from family.   She seems to be running away but running hardest from herself.  

My son and his children are hurting and struggling to comprehend something that makes no sense at all to them.  We, as a whole family unit, in-laws and blood, are struggling.  It hurts to see others hurting.  It hurts to have to relinquish a hold on someone who is deeply loved, but now unknown.  It hurts to see a daughter, a wife, a sister, a friend struggling and unwilling, unable to find a foothold in a desperate situation. 

Mental illness has robbed us of much over these past years.  There was Granny's dementia, the suicide of a friend, and 3 family members.  There was Katie's own struggles with a mental diagnosis and the years we watched her fight hard to get a toehold on that.  And now Bess.  

Of all the things we've faced, of all the struggles we've had over the years, this fight for the mind, is the most difficult because the enemy is so unknown, so difficult, so consuming for those who dwell within it and those who are watching from the outside are either as consumed or unable to cope.  

It was this, balanced by Katie's blessing of a healthy relationship and ability to move on with her life at last, and our renovations, that we've dealt with over the holiday.  Deep hurt balanced with deep happiness.  Loss balanced by blessing.  A new season, a difficult one in some ways, a pleasanter one in other ways.

How do we go on?  We do what we must.  We do the daily rounds of things that are sometimes meaningless and sometimes rocks we cling to when emotions, life, flood over us and overwhelm.  We take one step and then another.  We lean harder on God and pray more and more that it is in Him we trust above all, despite the circumstances.  We lean into the happy things, the pleasant things. I recall that bit of wisdom gleaned a few months ago from the movie "Oklahoma!".  We look at the good on one side and the bad on the other and say, 'Well all right then', and go on.

We lament.  No one ever wants to mention lament and its power when grieving.  I've reminded Sam that crying is as necessary as all the other things.  

Sam is doing all the things.  He's not found another job.  He's struggling to be mom and dad. He tells me of Isaac's issues and Millie's and cries because he doesn't know what to do to help them. I see Josh's stoic, shut in look and know that he is suffering as well.  I see the hurt in my son's eyes.  I hear him saying how much he loves his wife; how much he just wants things to be the way they once were.

Yesterday Millie was here for a bit.  As we sat together at the dining table and played with Barbies, put together puzzles, etc., she talked.  "My mom likes to do this..."  "My mom puts together puzzles with me."  "My mom..."  Each time she spoke my heart ached. I murmured, "Yes, she does..."  I want her to hold on to these memories of her mom.   

In the past, as I dealt with the issues surrounding Katie's life, I didn't talk of what was going on over much, except to hint.  But I've had enough.  I'm tired of sitting in silence on this side of the screen, with an aching heart and not speaking of the things that batter us and leave us bleeding.  Mental illness sucks on so many levels.  It isolates us enough without remaining silent about it.  

Pray for dear Bess, for Sam and the children.  Lift them up please. Pray for us all. 

Amazon Associate Affiliate Link:  If you use this link to shop through, I will earn a small commission on some of your purchases if your check out within 24 hours of placing items in your cart.  Thank you!

26 comments:

Camp Mac said...

Prayers for Bess' perfect healing and the perfect restoration of her health, and your entire family(s) mind, body, spirit and soul. Binding with others of good will praying similar. Love and comfort to you all.
Much Love,
Tracey
x0x

obscure said...

Oh, Terri, I am so sorry for all you're going through. Sending you all love and light.

Lana said...

We live there too. It is something you keep trying to put aside and not dwell on but it is always there. One daughter gone from our family for over nine years now.And I am the caregiver for a husband whose brain can never be right again. I get it. Poor Sam and kids. I can hardly breathe thinking of them.

Casey said...

Terri, thanks for being so brave in sharing. My family has also been hit by mental illness at varying times. It’s hard! I feel for you. Continue to write. I know how much it helps. I’ll continue to read … judgement free! We never know what someone else’s struggles are. Take care. Allow yourself to grieve as well and lament! Big, virtual hugs! (((((((((())))))))))

Frances Moseley said...

Oh, Terri, I am so sorry for all you are going through! I know you love Beth dearly, and I pray that she feels that love. Mental illness is so hard to deal with, both for the person who is ill and for those who love them. I pray that God will wrap Beth in His arms as only He can do. Please share with us as much as you feel comfortable in doing. You have a family of friends here who love you and support you as much as we can in this format.

Cindi Myers said...

My heart goes out to you and your family and you are in your prayers. I do believe writing about these things can help in processing them and be healing.

Sue said...

I am so sorry to hear about your daughter-in-law's crisis. I will put her and your son & grandchildren in my prayers.

Although I'm sure it's damaging and confusing for the children that their Mom has left, perhaps the damage would be even greater had she stayed with them while enduring her suffering.

I hope your son and his children are all receiving counseling; they should not be left to sift through and rise from these ashes on their own. They need and deserve professional help.

I have the feeling that as Caleb has mostly left your loving arms and entered the world, there are other grandchildren waiting to be comforted in them...

Carol in NC said...

I'm sorry for what your family is dealing with, Terri. Even though we've never met, I have always felt a kinship with you. You're so genuine and face challenges with practical good sense and compassion. Mental disorders are terribly difficult to deal with and no family is immune from the scourge. We had a rough patch with our youngest daughter about 15 years ago (which I thought would be my undoing), my father-in-law had mental issues, and I went through a period of dealing with crippling anxiety myself a few years ago. It is very difficult to navigate through these waters, but you will find your way. Love and prayers for your family.

Wendi said...

Oh Terri! That couldn't been easy to share. Now that you have some other things that have shared make better sense. I really hope that Bess is some place safe. I will be praying for Bess, Sam and the kids. I'm super sorry all of this is happening.

Lana said...

I sent you an email.

ranchwife3 said...

Dear Terri, I am so sorry to hear of this heartache for your family. Prayers for Bess and your whole family. Know that you are loved.

Mable said...

I hope being able to write about the struggles, and knowing how many people who read your blog are praying for you, gives you some comfort and relief.

Anne said...

Terri, I just had a feeling that there were hurtful things going down over at Sam and Bess'. Those poor babies. They are so lucky to have you across the field.

Lana, I am in the same situation with an adult child. Twelve years here and I lost out on the really wonderful years with my only granddaughters. Family is everything to me and I never dreamed there would be a falling out over something that could have been easily mended. I have to face the honest fact that the truth is my son and daughter in law simply do not want to be bothered with us, However, they built a house in their backyard for HER parents. I am filled with pain and anger every time I think about it.

Jo said...

Prayers for all your family! They will be added to my prayer list.
I echo what Sue said about Caleb leaving and the other grandchildren's needs taking his place in your life. And I LOVED what you wrote about how Caleb grew you!
The Great Physician is our best hope.

Tammy said...

I feel for you all. I was 21 and married when my mother left our family, and as devastating as it was for me, it was worse for my youngest brother who was still at home. I echo the thought that the kids need someone outside the situation to talk to - perhaps the school counselor? We did that for my brother and it was helpful. Hard, but helpful.
That's all the advice from me, but you all have my prayers. ♥

terricheney said...

I am deeply grateful for every prayer. Thank you all!

Karla said...

I had wondered, knowing some of the past issues, if perhaps she was struggling again. As someone who has family members with what I can guess is her diagnosis, I completely understand the pain and devastation. It doesn't make it hurt less to understand it. I'm praying for all of you - Bess included. Mental health issues are so difficult - for everyone. Thank you for allowing us to know and pray with you. We love you so much. I do hope somehow a counselor may be obtained for the kiddos and Sam. In the meantime, I pray THE Counselor brings comfort and healing.

Sally said...

I don’t comment often, but read regularly. Tears fell as I just finished reading this post. We encountered something very similar in my daughter’s marriage around three years ago, 10 years into her marriage. Mental illness, abandonment, confusion…two young children. I consider myself a strong person, but it just about did me in…’but God’….Though it was not reconciled in the way we had originally hoped, God has brought restoration and healing to those left behind. I am praying for all of you as you walk this journey. Your wisdom shines in your posts and I’m sure into your family as well.

Unknown said...

My heart and prayers to out to you and your family as you navigate this new, unwanted journey. Lynn Ewing

lejmom said...

Dear Terri
I had coffee with you this morning, and want you to know that my heart aches for you for the family issues, and rejoices with you at your growth while raising Caleb. He was your blessing while all around you was falling apart. You are smart enough to see that.

All families deal with mental illness, I am convinced. When I married 57 years ago, I so looked forward to a wonderful relationship with my husband's mother. I wanted to be the perfect daughter-in-law. Her mental illness stole that from me and us. We were estranged for probably close to 50 years till her death at age 96! Sadly, both my husband and I were relieved when she died. We did not attend her funeral. It seemed wrong to do so. We kept in touch on the surface-- rarely. It was so pathetic.

We couldn't explain our estrangement sufficiently to our children as we didn't want to speak ill of her. They "knew", but we did not embellish.

Sending love and prayers...

terricheney said...

Thank you, all of you. Your prayers for the family are deeply appreciated.

meme said...

Hi Terri, there is mental illness in my family too. And I myself have anxiety, OCD, PTSD. My mother was mentally ill, she had depression, anxiety, paranoia, she talked to empty spaces in windows. It was very hard growing up with that. I am so glad you shared. Sharing struggles and talking about it helps me so much. Praying for you and your family.

Sandy Dixon said...

Thank you Terri from the bottom of my heart for who you are and what you do to help so many on both sides of the screen. I have read and followed you for years. You are my most favorite blogger. Please know that your family is in my prayers. We also walk a similar path. Our youngest son. His issues led to alcoholism and has finally spiraled so out of control that at this moment he sits in a state prison.the fallout includes 6 precious children. But God. God has met us at every turning. I have lifted my pleas and petitions and now just praise him for the healing. I live with faith that it will happen. What you have so graciously shared was such a help. Why di we always think we are alone in our troubles? God is very much using you to help others. Again thank you. Blessings on you and prayers being lifted up for Your family.

Conni said...

I, too, thank you for sharing your life with us. So many of the responses are wise and loving that I have nothing to add. Be assured of my prayers….may our God and Father comfort and heal your precious family!

Donna said...

Terri, I have read this post several times and each time I hurt for Bess and the entire family. That you all are on my prayer list goes without saying. I pray for Bess's healing and comfort for all who miss her.

Peggy Savelsberg said...

Oh Terri, my heart hurts reading this. I'll be praying for Bess, Sam, the children, and all of you. I'll be speaking on the phone to one of my four children later today. That child is trans and has suffered from depression for many years. They sent me a letter this week, accusing me of emotional neglect during their growing up years. I am stunned and so sad. Their father (who I suspect was bipolar) abused us all, and I did the best I could to love and protect them, until I finally found the strength to leave. Mental illness has robbed so many of us. I am leaning hard into the Lord right now, as I know you are too. Love and hugs to you.