Accepting What Is

Experiment.  Experience.

What do these two words have in common?

I tossed and turned last night as I mulled these two words over and over in my head – and questioned, how do they function together inside my experience as a step mom?

Experiment – what exactly am I testing?  What is the control and what is the variable?  Or better yet, what is the constant?  What doesn’t change?  And what does change?

As I wrassled with this thought, I came to the unscientific conclusion that the constants in my blended family experiment are my husband, his ex-wife, and my step children.   They don’t change.  I am the variable.  I was added into the mix and since I can’t control their behavior, they are the constant.  I can only change my behavior.  I can only change my response to any given situation or circumstance I find myself in.

I’ve experienced many things as I’ve traveled my step mom path.  Remember – I am the only variable.

The Pollyanna Variable

At first I was the Pollyana variable.  Everything was great and wonderful, I got a long just fine with my husband’s ex-wife and even better with her family.  I loved my step children.  My kids and my husband’s  kids were like a long lost cosmic family.  And the icing on the cake is that I married my first love.  What could be better?  What could be worse?

There is a Worse…

My Pollyanna glasses came off 4 months into our marriage.  Tim, my youngest stepson displayed acts of aggression, displaced anger and in hindsight – depression.  This wasn’t a change in him, just a manifestation of all things that happened to him to that point.  He was still a constant…my husband was still a constant…as was his ex-wife.  Only I was the variable, because only I reacted differently.  Over the next few months, I became the “WTF” variable.  Tim’s acts of aggression happened in Janaury, May, twice in June, September, and October of 2007.  I was adamant that he be put in some kind of behavioral therpy.  I went from WTF to “how do I fix this?”  I took this on as a challenge – something/someone that needed to be fixed.  I became UBER responsible.  And I hung the “not on my watch” sign over my variable.

Frustrated, angry, irritated – nothing I was doing was “fixing” the situation.  Nothing.  Tim  still lied, showed little to no initiative, still had outbursts of anger and (in hindsight) was depressed (apparently, boredom is a key indicator for depression in teens…something I learned not too long ago).  My husband was still excusing Tim’s behavior, had low expectations of him, and held himself responsible for his son.  Tim’s mom was out of the picture and for the most part oblivious to her own son.  These three constants showed negligble change.

I Am Angry – Hear Me ROAR

My variable began to shift again…from frustration to hostility…and I really thought I was keeping myself in check, hiding my anger, trying to fix him, making sure I had the “perfect” (or close to perfect) Blended Brady Bunch.  In reality, I was wrapping myself around the axle and I’m pretty sure I had a permanent wedgie…

My experiment went awry.  My experience was oozing hostility.  I disengaged from Tim – hands off.  I was in complete and total detachment – and I was denying my own hostility.  Smiling through gritted teeth.  It was causing a silent chasm between me and husband and it left Tim feeling adrift in an ocean without a rudder (or a paddle)

For my own good, I had to pause.  Step back.  Figure out what I was doing that was causing this experiment to go astray.  The only person I can control in this experiment is me.  I know this.  And I mean logically I know this.  Emotionally, I was a few blocks behind my logical brain. 

Press Pause For A Deep Breath

In pausing, I discovered that I was at war with reality – what I thought *should* or *should not* be happening put me in direct conflict with What Is.  Accepting the reality of the constants in this experiment, put me back on track with my experience.  It didn’t happen all at once…and it still took my emotional brain weeks to catch up with my logical brain.  I got back on track with a little help…

My husband called me out on my hostility.  Wow – if he sees it, then it’s really there.  I needed to take of it and me – FAST.  Tim’s’ therapist told me I was too nice to maintain any kind of detachment – that plan just wasn’t working.  He also told me that I can’t “fix” Tim – I can’t “change” Tim – that my only job was to LOVE Tim.

And that ushered in a whole new variable for me.  Somewhere in the back of my mind, a small window opened and a rush of cleansing fresh air entered into my brain.  It literally showed my festering resentment the door.  And more space cleared between my ears so that love had more room to grow.

All You Need Is Love

Love.  That’s it.  That’s all I have to do.  And it’s made all the difference in my world.  I don’t have to change anyone. I don’t have to fix anyone.  I don’t have to wish upon wish that Tim’s mom would be a “better” mom.  I just have to accept What Is.  Love What Is.  Because

Love grows.

Love heals.

Love gets passed forward.

Bringing It All Together At the Surgery Center

This Friday, I spent the day at the Surgery Center.  Tim finally had his deviated septum fixed.  I wasn’t alone - my honey was there and Tim’s mom was there…she even introduced me to one of the nurses as “mom2.” Once Tim was wheeled away, his mom and I went out to breakfast.  She asked about my girls, we talked about her youngest daughter who is pregnant and expecting “our” first grand-daughter. 

After breakfast, Tim’s mom and I  returned to the surgical center’s waiting room.  We talked, I finished reading “The Last Lecture,” we talked some more. Once Tim woke up, the three of us were in recovery with him.  I left briefly to get Tim’s prescriptions filled. 

When I returned, the nurse in charge informed us that only two of us could be in the room with Tim…I picked up my stuff to leave…and Tim said, “see ya Dad” – not once, but twice.  My husband kissed me as he left. Tim’s mom and I sat with with him – held his hand, stroked his head, helped him sip juice, encouraged him to move around, wake up, and helped him get dressed.  As far as Tim was concerned, he had both his moms with him.

Once home, Tim’s mom stayed with him for another hour.  I gave her a beer and we chatted in the living room. 

Yesterday, she picked Tim up so he could have a change of scenary (and milk being “in pain” for another day or so) – she gave me a hug – and it was the same kind of hug she gave me when she found out I would be Tim’s step mom 2.5 years ago.  It was “thank you, I appreciate you, high 5″ all rolled into one simple hug.

It made something I read in “The Last Lecture” very meaningful – If you wait long enough, you will see the good come out in people.  Like I said,

Love Grows.

Love Heals.

Love gets passed forward.