Letting Go - Lessons Relearned

If I were to believe in reincarnation, which I don't, I think the lesson I am learning in this lifetime is simply to let go. I was reminded of the pureness of this solution just yesterday.

To set the scene: My son, B., has the diagnoses of Pervasive Development Disorder - Not Otherwise Specified (NOS) and Bipolarism - NOS. Why they cannot specify these things is beyond me. I can be specific. It is at times a living h***, for him and those of us who live with him.

One of the symptoms of bipolarism is the hoarding of food and the craving of carbohydrates. I know this intellectually. I have read it in all the books, on all the websites. And he is living up to all the printed descriptions. He can inhale a dozen cookies in five minutes. Down an entire jar of Nutella in a half an hour with a spoon, while hiding in his bathroom. Eat an entire box of crackers if left alone for just a moment. In an effort to save him from the inevitable weight gain and the trauma and health problems it can bring, I have alarmed my home with motion detectors and locks on refridgerators. I have lectured, yelled, gotten angry, raged against the fact he steals with no remorse to satisfy his craving, hidden the goodies in my closet, in little used cabinets, in the basement. And still he finds it. And eats it.

Now I could stop buying/making these items. But the rest of us like cookies, bread, crackers, carbs, chips. Especially me. I once tried the Atkins diet, and thought I would murder someone.

Now my frustration could be all about B's health. But it isn't. I hate having my stuff stolen. It goes back to childhood for me, since we were poor and my parents did not purchase junk food. So me, always in love with the salty stuff, would save my babysitting money to buy crackers, chips and chip dip. Pricey foodstuffs when you are 12. I would dutifully mix my chip dip up, put it in a container, tape it shut, tape notes to it that said "DO NOT TAKE. C'S ONLY" and put it in the refridgerator. Next day, inevitably, one of my three older brothers would have eaten it all. Despite my note. Despite my hours of working to buy the crap. Now, in retrospect, it was probably good they ate this stuff and saved me from myself. They are all fat, and I am not. BUT, that's not the point. They stole my food. Without consequence.

So fast forward to now. It makes me crazy B steals my goodies. When I want the chocolate, I want it NOW. Not after I buy it again. Or bake it again. So it makes me angry. Unreasonably angry.

Then yesterday, I am walking with my husband on our way to our anniversary dinner. We have been discussing B, and my frustration. And very quietly, on a street muted by chilly air, about three feet away, my husband simply says, "You could just let it go. If it really is his disease, you could."

It was as if a brick hit me. It had simply never occurred to me, this simplest of answers. I can set up an entire motion-detecting alarm system that would make the FBI proud, but this solution escaped me - and my system.

And then I realized I could. Let. it. go. Like so many other things I could not fix in my life. Marriages. A friendship of 27 years with a woman who became ultra-Christian and ultra-judgmental (I think they go together.) My job. My pain from childhood.

Not to forget, not to cease to acknowledge the truth of the events. But just to let the emotion around it go, cease, float away, leave me behind and free.

And so I did. I'm sure I will lapse, forget again to keep my hands open in life so that I do not cling to things that I cannot hold, fix, control. But for today, I am. Letting. go.

And I said to B. when I got home that I was sorry. And he said he could control himself a little more than he does. And he would try. And so will I. A mutual forgiveness of each other's needs there in the darkened stairwell.