Parents

I haven't mentioned my folks much in this blog. It's not intentional. Truth is that my relationship was strained with my parents most of my life. They are divorced, married to different spouses (but still share the same anniversary date - long story) and live about 1,500 miles away from one another (which I'm not sure is far enough). My father is actually very I'll at the moment, just two days prior to my sentencing, he had a stroke as he was in the hospital recovering from bladder cancer treatment. He knew what was happening to me before his stroke and was supporting me, but now he is not able to put his thoughts into words well and he doesn't enjoy talking on the phone anymore. His doctors told my stepmother that news of my imprisonment could cause another stroke because he still needs surgery to clear his arteries. I hate lying to him.

My mother and I are very similar in possibly the wrong ways and incredibly different in most ways. Where she appreciates beauty, I appreciate intelligence. Where she appreciates makeup, I appreciate natural. Where she appreciates a lot of alcohol, I refused it to avoid becoming her. I didn't know gambling could take me to the same places. Family secrets most likely started much higher than my mom, but the skill of a public and silent private life I saw in my mom. We never talked of childhood abuse. My home wasn't safe to talk openly about bad things happening. They were kept inside like we did something wrong. Appearance and reputation was everything. My mother mastered passive aggressiveness and sometimes just aggressiveness. I mastered passiveness. My sister mastered just aggressiveness. My sisters acted out. I acted in. My mom understood my sister, she did not understand me. My dad left our family when I was about 13. I left our family when I was about 16. No one ever tried to bring me home.

When I was 35 and my world fell apart, my private gambling world having been public ally exposed and being accused of the crime I am about to go in for, I went home. For the first time in my life, my mom and my step father were there for me at the time when I needed them the most. It no longer mattered what had happened over those past 35 years - you can't change the past - but one day at a time, my mom and I built an amazing relationship.

We started to see ways we were similar. Similar likes and dislikes. Similar facial expressions. Similar ways of handling issues. I lived in her home for six months, but even after my life started to come together, we talked nearly every day. We still do. This week, she and my step dad (who is pretty amazing) are coming for a night to see me. Over the 19 years I lived away from them in the past, I rarely had a visit from them.

I'm not saying it's perfect. My mom still drinks. Her priorities can still be quite questionable. She sometimes throws those hostile words at me that I used to believe. But now I see that it is her illness. I know she us hurting. I won't enable her, but I can love her. I gain her respect by not being passive nor aggressive. I speak my truth and give her time to reflect.

Neither of my parents may ever say they are sorry for the reality of my youth. I don't need them to anymore. I feel sorry for them, because now I know what it's like to carry around the guilt of having done something wrong. They are my parents. They are aging. I choose to keep them in my life. I'm glad my world falling apart gave me the chance to establish healthier boundaries.

Holidays

Okay, today I kinda cried for a moment. I thought about the holidays. I was talking to Sporty on the phone and talking about Thanksgiving and the Jewish High Holidays and I just got sad. The prison allows visitors on holidays (well, federal holidays - not Jewish ones), but I won't be having any. The Feds try to put inmates close to home so they can get regular visits, but I'm being sent 1,000 miles away from my family and friends. I have absolutely NO expectations of anyone giving up their family traditions to spend a boring day sitting across from me in a visiting room. It is not even about that. I will be gone one year, just one set of each holiday. It will be okay.

The thing is, I missed a lot of holidays in my past. I spent many a thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year, etc. alone in a casino chasing losses or possibly on a winning streak. I believed I had no where else to go. No one wanted me at their holiday festivities. I was alone and whether it was true in fact or not, I believed I was unloved. Most of my adult life consisted of holidays spent with strangers who knew my name because we played at the same tables night after night, yet we knew nothing about one another. We just needed our next "hit," the adrenalin of the next deal of the cards, the next win, the next promise of a life better than the one we are living.

When I stopped gambling in 2008, started recovery and addiction therapy, holidays suddenly mattered. I was suddenly around family and friends that invited me into their homes. I'd actually get more than one invitation at times. I started celebrating holidays with friends that aren't even my holidays - like Christmas and Easter - because my friends invited me to their family dinners (although the Jew in me confused the term "dinner" to mean 5 or 6 once when the Easter dinner was to be served at 2). I also enjoy giving and receiving holiday presents and hate that it won't be a part of our traditions this year! Holidays have come to be a part of my recovery from the "broken" person I was. 

This, of course, leaves me with just one choice, find a way to enjoy the holidays without visitors of family or friends. I shall. During the months of Nov and Dec, they increase phone time from 300 min/month to 400 min/mth. So, I can call people more. I'll figure it out. I guess it is okay once in a while to realize the realities of life in prison. Holidays really hit me today.