Page 86 of Through Quick and Quinn
I know you do, thank you
it’s a source of strength for me, Quinn
6:32 a.m.
You are my rock, too, Quick.
Remember I’m here if you need me.
6:33 a.m.
tt+t
+ + +
Hey Geoffrey,
They took Mom to rehab today. Looks like she’ll be there for about a month, I guess. I am worried about her. I mean, I’m glad she’s there because she needs it so badly, but I wonder what withdrawal will be like for her. Will it be akin to people who are coming off street drugs? I was going to dig a little on it, but then I thought better of it. The rehab facility will take care of her, and hopefully remnants of our mom will come back to life slowly but surely once she detoxes.
I did talk to Dad today. After he gave me the scoop on Mom, I asked him if he’d be around more now. I told him that he works too much and I don’t want to be alone all the time anymore, especially not now. He just looked at me, Geoffrey. For like thirty seconds. I don’t even think he blinked. And then he started crying. Like, hard. He was trying to apologize. I couldn’t really make out all his words, but the pain and anguish were clear as day.
I’ve never really thought about things too much from his perspective. I mean, yeah, I’ve thought about how much it would suck to lose a son. How frickin’ sad and empty that would feel for a parent. But I saw something else today, too. Like Dad’s been trying to be the strong one. And like he’s been trying to keep the family together by providing for us. And by pretending things are normal? I don’t know. But he kept apologizing, and I heard him say the word, “fail,” about twenty times. I felt so bad for him. He’s trying to be a good dad, but he’s showing love in all the wrong ways. Or at least not the ways I need him to.
We hugged a lot. I told him all the things—that it’s ok, that he didn’t do anything wrong, that he is a good dad, that I love him—you know, all the things I’ve been wishing they’d tell me for the last five plus years. Sigh.
It feels like a shift, though. Like things were forced to move, you know? We’ve been standing still for so long, but this thing with Mom pushed stuff in the spotlight. I don’t think it can go back to how it was. Especially not with Dad and me after today. The conversation went so much more easily than I expected, and I can totally see me calling him out on it if he went back to being absent all the time.
I’m with Quinn. She said she was glad Mom is in rehab, and I am, too. Things will improve. They have to, right?
I told Dad I want to go see her but Dad said she’s not ready yet. Makes sense. She’s probably detoxing bad. I don’t want to see her like that, and I bet Dad doesn’t want to either. She’s gotta do that on her own, and I bet she wouldn’t want us to see that process either.
At least she’s ok. I’ll see her soon and I’ll be able to say what I need to say. It’s so frickin’ agonizing to know that my own mom despises me, but I have to face it and talk to her. Force her to talk to me.
Quinn slipped me an envelope in class today. It had a crystal in it with an explanation card. Lepidolite. It’s a cool purplish color and apparently it’s a stone that helps someone to stabilize. At first I thought she meant it for my mom, but as I read more, I knew it was for me. It helps with emotional healing, especially by releasing old emotional habits. I immediately thought of my tendencies to self-blame and self-loathe. I used to be pretty good at those. I think Quinn was reminding me not to go back to them. I’ll tuck it in my pocket.
I told her I needed a little time and space, but I miss her already. And I feel a little guilty for missing her. Like I should only be thinking about Mom? That’s dumb.
Keep your eye on Mom, brother.
Love you,
Deck
Wednesday, October 23, 2024
Note to self:
I’m trying not to worry about Quick, but I can’t help it. I’m terrified he’ll fall back into old patterns of anger, isolation, and self-punishment, but I also know how much he’s grown in the last year. He is open to facing his struggles and deals with things so much better than he used to. I was so impressed the other day when he texted about sloughing, not stuffing. He knows it’s better to deal with something and let it shed from him, rather than stuff it down and bury it deep within. I really am trying not to worry. I know he’s got this.
I guess I can just tell how sad and worried he is. He’s texted a little here and there these last few days, which is good, but my heart pains for him. I can’t imagine having to deal with losing a brother but feeling like you’re to blame for it, and then on top of that, to feel that your parents blame you for it, too. Quick really, truly believes his mom hates him. I cannot even imagine how awful that must feel.
In the meantime, I am handling Seek & Speak on my own, which is of course okay. It is still going strong. Actually, it’s booming. The statistics for the last topic, Area 51, were off the charts and to be honest, it is kind of taking on a life of its own.
I think I will focus on being artistic tonight. I read about this study that was done in the 1960s that related creativity to genius. They tested five-year-olds to see how they solved problems using creative thinking, and 98 percent qualified as geniuses. However, five years later, only about 30 percent qualified, and ten years later only 12 percent of the original children qualified at age fifteen. How sad that we stop nourishing our creativity as we age. I, for one, do not intend to let that happen. Even if I’m not the best artist or what have you, I’m still going to nurture my imagination! So tonight, I think I will work on a new quote for Quick’s scrapbook. Given what he is currently dealing with, and since I’m hoping he will find the good in it, I think I’ll go with Tony Robbins’ quote: “Life doesn’t happen to you, it happens for you.”
And then I’ll have to think of a trinket to go with it. That’s a tough one.
…Q
