|"Acceptance" - artist Jess Hurd|
A couple of weeks ago, the lesson was on "radical acceptance" - the idea that there are just some things we have to accept whether we want to or not, and we can't let those things control and consume us. I've been thinking about that idea a lot these last few weeks, as I've been traversing my way through depression, anxiety and anger.
I don't want to accept the fact that no one wants to do anything about my daughter's assault - not the cops, not the courts, not an attorney. No justice.
I don't want to accept that I have a sister who works two blocks from where I work, but never has time for a cup of coffee or lunch.
I don't want to accept that my kids have had such a rough time growing up, despite every effort on Dear Husband's and my part. We are not a "normal" family and that's that.
I don't want to accept that someone I trusted, considered a friend, and mentored as a youth minister violated the trust of a young woman and molested her.
I don't want to accept that I have bones collapsing in my neck and it's looking like I'll probably need surgery.
But if I don't accept these things - not "like" them, not think they are "okay" or "right" - but accept them as reality, then the depression, the anxiety and the anger will consume me, and that's not a choice.
Dark-haired Daughter seems to get this whole thing better than I do. She has done a remarkable, a heroic job, of moving on after her violent assault and abduction in January. She's somehow made peace with it - not that she still isn't fearful and has times when it comes back to her, but she's been a marvel to me. She's happy and working hard at learning new skills like cooking for herself and budgeting, going to school and getting things done. She's got this "radical acceptance" thing down.
What holds me back from accepting these things? Unfortunately, I think I have this image of myself as being this crusading mom who WILL get what her kids need, and no ONE, no THING, is going to stop me. And most of the time, that's worked for me. But not always. And not now. I can't do some things. And I hate to admit that. So I will say it again: I can't do some things. I just can't.
Radical acceptance of my inability to do it all. Oh, that's gonna be tough.