A Lonesome Path

A Lonesome Path

 

a Passion to Live

a Mind to Lead

a Heart to Give

a Path to Guide

a Hand to Lift 

and a Dream to Believe

what more is there?

a Dream as clear and vast as the sky

a Mind as set as earth's first stone

a Heart as pure as mountain lakes

a Hand that supports steady and strong

a chosen Path through life's unknown

must it be followed alone?

 

  

 The statement "people never change" is more realistic than one would hope.  As much as you pray, wish and believe that a person can change, it rarely happens.  Change takes an incredible amount of unrelenting effort.  It requires taking a deep hard look inside, seeing a side of yourself that you can identify and confront, then taking on the tenuous challenge of changing it.  It takes acknowledging this side daily and challenging it face to face.  Some days the old habit will win, some days you will not even be able to step outside of yourself long enough to see it, but on the good days, when you consciously fight the old habit into submission, you make a gradual step towards lasting change.  Most people find it easier to continue with a harmful habit than go through the arduous steps of change.  Most people never change.

I was a believer in change.  I thought that if I loved hard enough and fought hard enough, eventually, my mom would let go of her dysfunctional marriage and return to the life of the living.  I also believed that my brother would finally reach a point so low that he would have no option but return to the surface and breath the air of hope.  My beliefs only left me alone and disappointed.  Every time the realization struck that nothing had changed, another piece of my heart would turn to ash and blow away.  It took far too many times for me to finally give in and admit defeat.  I am incapable of changing my family.  I am incapable of making them love me the way I need to be loved.

During our trip to Montana, my mom's drinking hit an all time high. She was drinking box wine from a pint glass and could polish off an entire box in a night.  I could answer a question she had already asked three times only to have her ask it again two minutes later.  By seven o-clock, she was an incoherent bumbling heap of booze.  There was no conversing with her in a decent fashion.  Looking into her glassy eyes, I saw nothing but the sullen traces of a her perfect life floating away with each sip of alcohol.  She continually excused Rich's behavior, coming up with reasons why Betty had deserved everything he had done to her.  Betty just needed to be stronger and more reliable then Rich wouldn't be forced to treat her this way.  Nothing was ever the man's fault.   Betty, Rich and I sat down with my mom the night before Christmas and asked her about her drinking.  Her happy flighty attitude immediately turned black.
"My drinking is no concern of yours.  I am doing just fine, don't tell me how to live my life."  Her words stung and made us all feel guilty for even breaching the subject.

As we were leaving Montana, Rich took me aside and told me that it was my responsibility to look after my mom.
"Make sure she doesn't drink too much.  Look after her.  Keep her on track."  He ordered.
"I can't.  When I question her drinking, she gets angry with me and tells me to mind my own business."
"How hard can it be?  You have had it so easy in life, all you have to do now is look after her for a little while and control her drinking.  She's done so much for you, can't you do this one thing for her?"  The guilt I felt was unbearable.  This woman gave me life, and I couldn't even drag her off the dark path of alcoholism. I must be a terrible daughter.