To Let Go

As I mentioned a long time ago, I signed up for a twelve week class about mental illness.  I finished up the course about two weeks ago.  I learned a few new things.  I met some amazing people who understand, truly understand.  They are in the proverbial trenches as well.  My last night before I left for class, I had an episode in my life that had me spinning.  I went to get my survey out of my binder when a piece of paper fell out.  It was a list of "To Let Go" statements.  Boy, did I need them at the moment.

I have a few people in my life struggling with mental illness.  I only talk about Madelle because I have her permission.  I haven't asked the others if I can write about them.  I can also write about myself, but I find that is a bit lame.  I have only had a little depression.  Sure, it can be tough, but nothing like what those around me go through.  I found while I wrote my responses to the statements, I would think about different people.  I found it interesting that at times I was thinking about those without mental illness that judge others so harshly and won't budge on their judgment. 

At any rate, the statements are underlined and italicized.  My responses follow.  Many of the statements have similarities as do my answers.  I could consolidate them, but I want all my readers to have the opportunities to read them in their original form in case one strikes a cord that might not if I changed them.

Mental illness is a huge issue in our communities.  So many people runaway from the issues whether in themselves or others.  Many of our extreme cases are homeless or in prison because there is no one to take care of them.  I am not mentally ill and struggling through the medical system was hell on earth.  I can't imagine having to do all the phone calls and stuff when in a mental breakdown.  I could go on and on, but will cut my soapbox short. Here are the statements.

* To let go does not mean to step caring.  It means I can't do it for someone else.

Letting go can be excruciatingly hard.  When I let go in the past, I have done so out of frustration.  I try to convince myself that I don’t care. Frankly, sometimes I don’t care for a short amount of time.  The attitudes of people with mental illness can be taxing at best. Other times, I let go for a bit just to regroup and take care of myself.  I also end up caring again which puts me back in the middle of the situation. I wish I had a button that I could turn off to allow me to let go and not care to the point that my heart hurts.

* To let go is not to cut myself off.  It's the realization I can't control another.

On a good day, this works.  I let go and let the person talk/vent.  I just listen and know that I can’t fix their problems.  Unfortunately, I want to be in control. I want to fix it.  Of course, on bad days, I let go and cut myself off from contact for a time.  The mental illness becomes too much for me to bare.

* To let go is to allow someone to learn from natural consequences.

Oh, this is so hard when the person is a loved one.  I want to step in and protect them. I want to make it better.  Alas, I can’t. If I step in, I tend to make the relationship worse.

* To let go is to recognize when the outcome is not in my hands.

So very true.  Even though I am the mother, Madelle’s education is not in my hands.  Yes, I can encourage, but the work has to hers, not mine. I can’t force her.  I have tons of other examples of my not having control in many other situations with many others as well.

* To let go is not to care for, but to care about.

I can’t take care of many people in my life with mental illness.  I do care about them. But ultimately, they have to care about what happens to themselves and do the work themselves.  I can’t do it for them.

* To let go is not to fix, but to be supportive.

I am horrible at this.  I want to fix it. Sure, I am supportive, but I also can’t keep my mouth shut.  I have to give suggestions on how to fix everything. I would think I could learn.  Sometimes I do well, but I inevitably find myself suggesting how a person can fix their lives.  I come off as a know it all when I just want to fix. Hopefully someday I will learn to just listen.

* To let go is not to judge, but to allow another to be a human being.

We all judge.  I believe it is part of human nature.  I work hard at not judging and I fail quite often.  I know I am getting better at refraining from judging and keeping my opinions to myself at times.  I find I am becoming more empathetic, though I have work to do. I watch other people judge my dear daughter and think they need to let it go.  But again, that is something I am not in control of. I know many people don’t like her at the moment and may never like her. They are missing out.  They don’t understand mental illness. I try to explain, but they have to do the work to see behind the quirky, harsh personality traits.

* To let go is not to expect miracles, but to take each day as it comes, and cherish myself in it.

I truly think I have reached this.  At the moment, my daughter is doing amazing.  She has worked hard and doing well. She is working about six hours a day on school work, art, writing, and hiking.  She is hoping to get into an alternative school next fall. She is happy. She hasn’t cut in almost a year. The anxiety and panic still trip her up.  They probably always will. I am enjoying the good times we are having. It could change tomorrow. We have no idea or control.

* To let go is not to criticize or regulate anybody, but to try to become what I dream I can be.

At the beginning, I tried to regulate Madelle when she started using her voice.  She can be very harsh and judgmental. But, then I thought why? I could fight with her and risk her losing her voice.  Risk her cutting again and risk her becoming suicidal again. I am not going there. Yes, she upsets people and they end up not liking her.  That is her burden, not mine. Frankly, it is also their burden.  Well, it is mine when people go off about her attitude to me. But I “let it go.”

* To let go is not to regret the past, but to grow and live for the future.

There are so many things I could regret: not taking her out of the private school a year sooner, not seeing the signs of her illness, being a tough boot strap mom, and the list could go on and on.  I know I have loved her and others with all my heart. I have screwed up. I will screw up again. I am human, far from perfect. I can only handle the here and now. I will live in the moment.

* To let go is to fear less and love more.

I would love to say that I don’t fear the outcome of the mental illness that shadows relationships in my life.  Or should I say worry? I worry about the future. Where will we all be in the next ten years? But, I refuse to let the fear or worry cripple me.  I will continue to love and live.

The Louvre

Growing up, I don't remember an appreciation of art in the form of the greats.  I knew nothing of Monet, da Vinci, or Michelangelo.  Our home didn't have any pieces of "art" of known artist.  On the walls, we did have my aunt's pieces.  Mom also displayed two of my string art pieces that I had done at youth group.  I do remember loving the stained glass window at church of Jesus praying in the garden.  I also loved the crucifix at the local Catholic Church.  My cousin fascinated me with how she could draw, but I had no talent.  I also loved watching my friend Joe do a piece in class.

I began taking note of art when I was hired at the Ben Franklin Frame Shop.  Seeing the pieces come into the store, I studied the local artists of Montana and around the United States.  I was determined to have some good pieces in my house.  I have a few outdoor scenes and religious pieces.  None are of "known" artists.  I also have a piece of my aunt's art.  The entertaining part is by the time I could start collecting I decided I really prefer my own photography.  But I do love to go to a good museum.

The Louvre originally  was built in the late 12th to 13th century as a palace and fortress by Philip II.  In 1682, the Palace of Versailles became the residence for Louis XIV.  The Louvre housed the royal collection, including Greek and Roman sculptures.  Over the centuries, the palace developed into the art museum of today.  There are approximately 38,000 objects in 782,910 square feet museum.  I only saw a small fraction and it was magnificent.

The day started out questionable.  I messed up and bought the wrong tickets.  The problem was we were so confused when they turned Madelle and I away, but they let Jerry through with his ticket.  Madelle panicked and wanted to just go back to the hotel.  She only does well with Jerry and he was on the other side of the ticket area.  I waved him back.  Seeing panic in your child's eyes is a tough situation, but I wasn't going to let her miss out on The Louvre.  I told her she would not be going back.  We went to sit down while Jerry went for the right tickets.  She turned her back to all the world and regrouped.  Once he returned with the tickets, she had gathered herself and we made it into the museum.  The first sculpture grabbed her attention and she was enjoyed herself.

Because of the panic, we didn't get headphones to learn or a map to guide us.  We just wandered.  Jerry worked at reading the French signs.  Madelle insisted we stick together, so I didn't get to engross myself in the art like I normally do.  Instead, I watched her and snapped pictures.  Really, the experience was overwhelming in its magnitude of people, space, and beauty.  I would love to go again by myself to take notes and learn. 

A few of my favorite sculptures.

As we went through the Christian paintings, I marveled at the Crucifixion pieces.  We saw them on a Wednesday and in two days we would be remembering the event since it was Good Friday.  I loved that we visited and saw these great works during Holy Week.

Part way through this section, Madelle turned to me upset.  "They aren't even stopping to really see the art," she observed.  I began watching the people.  The majority of them just walked through with a glance left and right.  A handful of people actually stopped and looked at the artwork.  "I am kind of glad though," I commented, "this way we get to appreciate it more without the crowds keeping us from the art."  She liked this thought and we continued on looking.

Finally, we came to the room with the Mona Lisa.  People were stopped here.  The room was huge and it was shoulder to shoulder.  I worried Madelle would get anxious.  "Do you want to go up front?"  Her eyes had grown large with wonder and she nodded.  We put her between us and went forward.  She did wonderful and was delighted to see the beautiful lady.  I loved her as well.

After seeing one of the most famous paintings in the world, we escaped the chaos and found the gift shop.  We picked up a couple of things.  Madelle was finished with the museum.  Jerry wasn't, so we found some stairs and went down to the lower level and found a section with hardly any people.  This was my favorite spot.  The display was a lot of sculptures of scenes from Jesus' life.  We spent a little time in this area and then made our way out of the museum which wasn't easy.  There is a huge mall in one section, but Madelle was done.

Outside, we breathed in the fresh air.  We found a crepe restaurant and had the best French lunch of the vacation.

Social Anxiety in Little Women

Through the years, I have no idea how many times or versions of “Little Women” I have watched on television.  I do know that I have read the novel once and probably need to read it again one of these days. I love the story.  I used to daydream about the characters when I was young. Since the first peek into their lives, Jo March has always been my favorite.

In the latest rendition that is airing on PBS, Jo hasn’t disappointed.  I still love her dearly and even at my age, I want to emulate her daring and drive.  However, while watching the first episode, I caught an issue that I never noticed before.  I wonder if the situation was always there. Beth has never been my favorite. In fact, she always annoyed me.  Last night, I found myself watching the scenes with Beth with interest.

Mr. March wrote home to his little women and told them to be brave when fighting the battles in their lives.  Later, Marmie is talking with Beth. In the conversation, she is reprimanding Beth for staying in the house too much after they allowed her to leave school.  She understands the struggles Beth has being around a lot of people, but she fears Beth will become imprisoned in her home. Beth responds with the fact that she hasn’t been fighting hard enough like her father asked.

The scene took my breath away.  Beth has social anxiety. Remembering back to all the other takes on the story, I realize her “mental illness” was always there.  She hesitated to play the piano at Mr. Lawrence’s home. I never realized her struggles. Now, I know I am more sensitive to mental issues, but the directing of the show may also be more sensitive.  I really want to go back and read the novel to see if the author was making people aware of problems in families.  In reality, she probably didn't do it on purpose, but the awareness is there for me now.

Continuing in the production, there are at least two scenes of Beth stepping out of her house intending to play the piano.  One time she reaches the porch steps of the Lawrence residence only to turn around. His front gate is as far as she gets the next time. 

The scenes are so poignant to me.  My daughter has been through this.  She has struggled going to school until she just couldn’t go anymore.  Our home was becoming a prison for her as Marmie fears for Beth. I so related with Marmie and felt sadness for Beth.  Social anxiety is not a new illness. People have dealt with social anxiety for centuries. I am sure other great authors in the past have written about such people.  I just haven’t noticed before in my reading or watching of the classics.

The first episode ended last night.  Jo is still my favorite and always will hold the top spot.  Now however, I relate to Marmie and sympathize more with Beth. I have always cried when Beth dies.  I probably will again. I do wish she lived so I could see how her life turns out. Does she become that old spinster who lives with her parents until they die.  At that point would she live in the family home or go to live with one of the sisters? Does a dashing young man see her for the beautiful person she is and marry her?  I have these questions with Madelle. What is in store for me sweet girl?