After a Long Estrangement: Reuniting!

My regular readers know why I wrote the book (Strained Relations:  Help for Struggling Parents of Troubled Teens) and started this blog: it was all inspired by my own difficult relationship with my son.  I haven’t written for some time because I was wondering if I had something of value to add from my story. I just haven’t tended this garden.

Here’s why.

I’ve been estranged from my 24 year old son since he was 18. I saw him briefly a couple of times in those years but we had no real conversation, and the reaction I received let me know it wasn’t time for him to talk yet.

So I’ve waited. It’s been tough. It’s like having a headache or a fever, not a severe one, but one that’s distracting and prevents you from fully experiencing whatever it is you’re doing.

I’ve had this 6 year low-grade fever. We’ve gone about our lives, working and playing, traveling and enjoying family visits, taking classes and going to museums, theaters and the movies. All with that fever that could be triggered to cause more pain depending on the discussion, movie or song.

I’ve reached out over this time in occasional emails asking if he is open to seeing me. One time I had my hopes up. He told my former husband he was ready to see me and responded to my email. I excitedly checked my email and the spam folder and there was nothing from my son. I wrote and asked for another note and he did not respond.

Not frequently, but maybe ever 6 months or so in the last couple of years I have reached out via email. It’s not in my nature to give up and I’ve had hope without a timeframe.

Recently, I wrote and asked if he was ready to see me yet. The answer was yes! We set up a time and place.

I was so excited, happy, scared, anxious, angry about lost time, and had a dozen other emotions swirling around.

The day before, he wrote that he had not made adequate plans to get there and dinner was cancelled.

This happened right before our vacation and business trip, and I was on edge. Was he backing out or was it an honest mistake?

When I returned, I asked about meeting in his town on a Saturday, and he said yes.

On Saturday, I had an early errand on the way and wound up outside the restaurant for 2 hours. I brought things to read and tried to concentrate on them. Played some music.

I went inside and waited. Then he came in, I was still sitting as I wasn’t sure if I had the strength in my legs to get up – I was so nervous. I stood and he reached out, willing to hug me. I hugged him with all of my love.

I thanked him for coming, for being brave to see me, that I was happy to see him.

We had some chitchat about what we were doing and then we got into more about what was really happening in his life, how that affected us.  He confessed to some things he had done and he apologized.  I apologized for not knowing what to do to make things change for him.

We talked for about an hour and a half. I have a lot more questions, more to learn, more to share, but I didn’t want to overwhelm him and was very emotional about everything.

He isn’t the boy I saw at 18. He’s a man. He looks a little different. His thought process is much clearer and it’s exciting to get a little insight into who he is now.  He doesn't need me every day and it could be that I won't see him for months.

It’s a start. It’s like going up a 10 story building using the stairs and carrying a backpack of rocks as you go. With each step, you take a rock out of the bag and your climb is still challenging but easier as you go.

This is huge and really a lot to take in. I may write, I may not, but know that there are possibilities in life, that you can go through things that are difficult and come through the other side.

Marcia Stein, PHR is the author of Strained Relations:  Help for Struggling Parents of Troubled Teens.

Dreading Mother’s Day? Me, too.

Last year I wrote about Mother’s Day and how I felt about it.

It hasn’t been an easy day for me in years. As I child, I remember looking forward to giving Mama something I had made, and even when I gave her simple beads on a string, she would beam and thank me and she’d wear the necklace. My mother was special, and she died at age 50. I’ve been without her more than half my life. I still miss her, wonder what her life would have been like, what our relationship would have been like had she lived longer. I especially missed her and appreciated all she had done once I had my own child.

If you’re a regular reader, you know that this blog is an offshoot of the book I wrote, “Strained Relations: Help for Struggling Parents of Troubled Teens.” The book and this blog came about as a result of my experiences with my son. I’ve talked with many people over the years about difficult or troubled teens, and it helped me to know I was not alone. It also helped that I was an investigator, keeping my own emotions out of it.

This year, more than others, I’m dealing with those emotions. I still don’t talk with my son and it’s been exactly four years and one month since he lived in our home. I really miss the child I had and the time we spent together. There were issues along the way, but really, it’s been since he was 13 that he was someone with whom you could have a conversation. He is 22 now and I’m still hopeful that we’ll repair our relationship in the future.

For that repair to happen I have to grow and learn and he has to do the same. I’m doing my part and hoping for good things for him.

Now I want to say one final thing about Mother’s Day. This is the most painful and cruel day for a mom who has lost a child. My son had a friend who came to our home several times. In the brief conversations we had, I had a richer sense of who he was and what was on his mind than I had with my own son. He was a lovely boy and very close to his family. He died suddenly when he was in college, and it wasn’t due to horrible things you assume with kids that age – he simply died. An adult’s version of sudden infant death syndrome, I suppose. I felt terrible, deeply sorry for his loss, for the loss to his parents and family.

If you’re wondering how you talk with someone who is estranged from a child or worse, that the child has died, here’s what I would do. I would say to that person, “I was thinking of you and I’m sure you miss your child. Do you want to talk about it?” Just acknowledge the loss, the emptiness, and don’t pry. If the person doesn’t want to talk, he or she won’t do it, but the important thing is that you have let them know it’s okay to talk or not talk, that you’re there and you care.

Take care, friends.

How to Disclose Family Estrangement or Difficulties

A few of my readers have asked me to address this topic. In my book, the first chapter is devoted to three estranged families. The other families have repaired relationships, but they went through some period of difficulties.

Before you talk with anyone about your situation, consider the reasons for disclosing any information, and that will help you determine what you want to say and which people you can trust, which ones you should avoid.

What would be the reasons to talk about your family situation? One reason for me was that it was more helpful to lead an honest and open life than to keep my pain hidden. I learned that when I shared selective information honestly, I received help and support and kindness through what has been a challenging time. If you live in a small town or have a certain network of friends and family, they may have observed your problems and have been worried about your family.

The most important lesson for me was that I could be honest, protect details of the situation, receive support and learn that I was not alone. That’s a big thing, knowing you’re not alone. It’s helpful no matter what you’re going through in life.

If you decide to talk with others about your family difficulties, be prepared for a wide range of responses. Some people will be sympathetic and share their own stories. Others will want to be your therapist/coach. We all dread those who may judge you harshly, even though your situation may be extreme and may include violence in your family. The truth is, it’s hard to know with some people how they’ll react, but for the most part, you know your family and friends.

The chosen confidants would be people you know are supportive, good listeners, and respectful people. They have to be people you can trust.

The people to avoid are fairly easy to pick: the ones who are usually judgmental, gossipy and/or critical. You know who that is, don’t you?

Because this is information you’re volunteering, you can also pick the time and place in which to share. It should be private – don’t put yourself in a position where people can eavesdrop. And if you find you’re not ready to share yet, don’t do it. This is your information, your pain, and you are not obligated to share anything.

You should be comfortable and ready to share, and that means being prepared for questions. Some people have a lot of questions, others just listen. For those who have questions, consider what kinds of questions they may ask so you’re ready to respond. It’s helpful to provide some resources such as books or websites. This helps demonstrate you’re not alone and gives others additional insights.

If they ask what they can do to help, let them know. Sometimes all you need is someone to talk with, someone to say “I understand” or someone to just say “I’m thinking of you.”

If you’ve been in a difficult family situation and decided to share this with others, what was your experience?

Barbara Blomquist: 24 Years of Estrangement and a Repaired Relationship, Part 2

Barbara Taylor Blomquist is the author of “Insight Into Adoption” and “Randy’s Ride.” In the second of a two-part series, she relays the story of her relationship with her son and their 24 years of being estranged. If you missed Part 1, please click here.


"Back in contact

One day when our son was 40 years old, he emailed me and asked how everyone in the family was. I emailed back saying that it was hard to cover 24 years in one email, but I gave him a brief update and mentioned I’d just had a book published. He emailed back that he wanted to get a copy and I mailed one to him. I didn’t hear back for several weeks, but then I received the message I’d prayed for, but at times thought I’d never receive.

He said he realized in reading “Insight Into Adoption” that he had been loved all along, but his anger was so strong at being given up at birth that he couldn’t see or feel any love. He realized he was normal and all the feelings he had were shared by many adopted youth. He was no longer alone. It was difficult for him to read “Insight Into Adoption” because it brought up so many emotions, but he later said it was instrumental in cementing him back into the family.

A visit home

Shortly after reading the book, he said he wanted to fly home for Mother’s Day. We were apprehensive, of course, but said we’d been waiting years to hear those words. He’d left as a boy and was returning as a man. The three days we spent together were like a Walt Disney movie, no deep conversations, but just a reconnecting of love, and an appreciation for each other as human beings who had all suffered. I felt no blame toward him. He felt no blame toward us. It was what it was, over and done with.

During the next year, he flew home five times. He still flies home several times each year and is in regular, wonderful contact by phone and email. He openly shares his joys and his challenges.

Aftermath and a strong beginning

It’s been eight years since he came home that Mother’s Day. There have been times when his anger has shown itself. We’ve been calm and tried to help him deal with it. Each and every time after a few days, he’s said he overreacted. Perhaps old habits die hard. We always say we understand, and we do. We tell him it’s no big deal. These episodes are getting very rare now.

He has many regrets which we tell him are understandable, but not important now. In taking this journey he became the outstanding, understanding, loving soul that he is now. He reconnected with the innate qualities he had as a little boy when he was sensitive and compassionate.

He has an appreciation for life which many people would envy. They wouldn’t envy his method of achieving it, however. He is similar to people who have come back from a life threatening experience. They never look at life the same way again. Their priorities change and their appreciation and gratitude are enhanced for things they used to take for granted.

Our son has said he would be dead now if it weren’t for us. Somewhere deep down he must have known that we would not only eagerly take him back into the family, but would do so with no questions asked. All we care about is now. He’s mentioned that some of his friends can’t believe we’ve been so loving and accepting after what he put us through. I couldn’t imagine being any other way.

How we’ve all grown

We all are different people after going through this. I think when we “know” we are right about something, we have a tendency to judge others, silently or openly. I no longer do that. When I see a behavior on someone’s part that is distasteful or even abhorrent to me, I immediately think “He’s doing the best he can.” A feeling of sympathy overwhelms me and I want only the best for that person who is obviously suffering. They are being motivated by fear or frustration or a feeling of being lost. I no longer take the position that I am better than that person. Instead, I feel gratitude that our son has taught us not to judge or label people. I’m sure people judged him for his negative behavior. That’s human nature.

We have all found a deeper meaning to life through this. First of all, not ever to judge people, but also to genuinely love people for who they are, warts and all. I know in my heart that our love for our son was a factor in bringing him out of his lifestyle. It took way too many years, but if people knew him years ago, they would know he’d die an early death. He proved them wrong. He dropped out of high school and never could stay in college, but he’s worked hard in his field and is greatly respected for the knowledge he has which he’s learned on his own. He is sought after for his knowledge and paid handsomely for it. He dedicated himself to getting himself out of his messy life. His very bad credit has improved to the point where he is now a homeowner.

His life now is calmer and he takes justified pride and joy in how far he’s come from his previous years. I think we as parents feel even more happiness in this. We know the outcome could very well have been different. I had prepared myself for one day hearing that he had died. At least I thought I had. Now what we are witnessing is a second birth of a beautiful human being who accepts love and gives love.

Bitterness versus understanding

We have several friends who have had problems with troubled sons who have devastated their lives. I’ve heard them say they would never take their sons back after what their sons did to them. My heart goes out to these families because they will never know the ongoing joy of knowing the power of parental love. They express anger and resentment and are living daily with that. I did for some time until I realized that stance was hurting all of us.

Even if reconciliation never occurs, an attitude of forgiving and understanding love enhances your own life and allows bitterness to be non-existent.

We couldn’t be more grateful and prouder of the person our son has discovered he is – and was all along."

Barbara Blomquist: 24 Years of Estrangement and a Repaired Relationship, Part 1

Barbara Taylor Blomquist is the author of “Insight Into Adoption” and “Randy’s Ride.” In the first of a two-part series, she relays the story of her relationship with her son and their 24 years of being estranged.

"Background of a failed/revived relationship

Our strained relations with our son erupted 32 years ago when he left home at age 16. We were devastated. We felt helpless. He had been into drugs for over a year and that put him on a downward path which only got steeper and steeper. He was doing all of the typical things drug addicts do at that age: lie, steal, cut school and more.

I won’t go into details of his life for the next 24 years (he came back to us after that time) because I don’t know a lot of the details. He called us every 6 or 8 months and gave us a phone number where he could be reached, but when we called it, it was always out of service. From the time he was age 33 to 40 we didn’t know if he was dead or alive. We had no contact at all.

Process of emotions

During this estranged period – a good many years – I had a lot of time to go through every emotion imaginable. First fear for his life, he was only 16. Then anger that he betrayed all we’d done for him. Then frustration that we couldn’t contact him to try to work things out. Then feeling heart sick at the thought he was throwing his life away. My thoughts were of him constantly. I remember vividly one Sunday afternoon when I was involved in a project for a community cause. I realized at 5:00 o’clock that I had gone 4 hours without thinking of him. This was a first in years. The worst times were waking up in the middle of the night wondering where he was, was he scared, was he in jail, was he cold or hungry, penniless, homeless. I found out later after we reconnected that at some point during all those years, he was indeed, all of those things.

We went on a journey through these years as did our son. Eventually, we ended up in the same place, together again.

Pervasiveness of unhappy years

I found that when my thoughts were of anger and resentment I felt very bitter. I resented my friends’ happy existence with their children. I’d see boys on the street that resembled our son and my heart would sink. I could never be completely happy. The thought of the trouble he might be in was always there to take away any joy that would come into my life. This went on for years and years. There’s a saying that a mother is only as happy as her unhappiest child. That was true for me.

I knew our son felt he didn’t belong to our family because he was adopted. Even though he was deeply loved, he didn’t love himself so couldn’t believe that we could love him. In his mind, his birth mother had given him away and he internalized this to the degree that he thought no one else could or would love him. He set about to prove to the world that he was indeed, a worthless throw-away person.

Survival tactics

After a time, I came to the conclusion that I couldn’t help him because we didn’t know where he was, but I had to help myself. We had other children who were being short changed by my attitude. My husband understood, but he could go off to work and get his mind on other things. After all, we had other happy, successful children.

In order to help myself survive, I came to the position that I had to think only positive thoughts about him. He had been a delightful little boy and I kept thinking of those years where his good qualities showed. I made myself believe that the goodness was still there, it was only temporarily covered up by bad behavior. All the loving qualities we had instilled in him must still be there. After a time that became easy to believe. I would send positive messages and affirmations out into space believing that somehow they would help him. They helped me.

I also in time came to see that his leaving our family was not done to hurt us, even though it hurt us to an extent I didn’t ever believe possible. He was the one who was hurting. He left, hoping to find a place in the world where his hurt would go away. Of course, it didn’t.

My last position was that he was doing the best he knew how to do. It was a terrible way for him to handle his life, but I came to see that he was hurting so much that he did a desperate thing in leaving and going out on his own at age 16. A feeling of sympathy took over my being. I could look at him in a loving way knowing that if he were ever to return I would welcome him wholeheartedly because I knew he’d been on a journey of self-realization. He, and only he, could do this. We couldn’t help him.

Survival therapy

During these years I started leading support groups for adoptive parents who were dealing with troubled children. I saw clearly that the core issue for our son and for all these troubled families was that the child didn’t know who he was. He felt he didn’t belong to his adoptive family, but he didn’t know where he did belong. He felt alone and lost.

The parents in the groups encouraged me to write about adoptive parenting issues because we discussed principles none of us knew about years ago when we adopted our babies. The book, “Insight Into Adoption”, was the result. I incorporated our own experience as well as the experiences of many families, and the invaluable experiences of adoptees who are now adults. They shed so much light on how they felt as children. Out of this came solid advice and insight for adoptive families. I wrote it hoping and praying I could save some families from going through what we were going through."

To be continued...