Black Sheep of the Family

The other day while listening to my music, a song from the early 80’s came on called the Black Sheep of the Family by John Anderson.  Back then, it would have been difficult to tell who was the Black Sheep between me and my brothers.  We have all mostly grown up and become responsible adults since then, although my brothers might not totally agree when it comes to me.  That’s ok.  I like who I am and what I have been and will continue to do with my life.

The thought that occurred to me when the song came on was actually about our three boys.  Each of them consider themselves to be the Black Sheep and one of them recently said that to me.  My response often was that they come from a long line of black sheep on every side of the family, but it’s really not necessary to continue that tradition.  I thought back over the past years.  I actually have a picture of the three of them from their late teens, early twenties.  I kept it on my desk at work for years and proudly referred to them as “my three hoodlums.”  At that time, one of them was home on leave from the Marines having started on his drinking career, one was in trouble with the law and the other was drinking and going through girlfriends and jobs as if they were candy.  But they’re my boys and I love them.

Over the years since then as they struggled to get ahold of life there were a lot of challenges for them and us.  Family dynamics often changed on a dime even with extended family, times of connection, times of conflict.  We each had our part in it.  There was pain and trauma, but there was also joy.  The Marine has been sober 25 years.  As we walked beside him in that journey we both grew.  We no longer yell, we actually talk equally and respectfully.  The Outlaw told me one day that he no longer had the heart for that life.  Instant joy for me.  He has completely turned his life around and is working on his dream of living on a lake and fishing.  Unfortunately the third boy was also an alcoholic, but was never able to face up to it until he was in the hospital dying of liver failure.  But, those last six weeks that he was alive and he faced his demons head on we finally connected and I had my boy back for awhile.  I will be forever grateful.

I wonder if I really have a point with all this ruminating.   I think that being or thinking that you’re the Black Sheep says more about how you feel about yourself, than your “position” in the family.  As a mom trying to redirect her sons into a more positive and fulfilling life, whatever that is for them, I never considered them “Black Sheep.”  I just wanted them to find their place in the world and be happy.  However, I’m pretty sure that message didn’t ever come through when I was expressing my displeasure at their latest crisis usually brought on by themselves (as most of us do).  I learned a lot about myself and how I operate through all this.  The ultimate result of all this was that we’ve grown together and enjoy a different relationship today.  That’s what really counts…Love did really keep us together until we learned how to really love.

OK.  Now, I’m getting a bit sappy.  I guess talking about my love for my boys does that to me.  

I guess my other point may be that no matter what comes from the family and how you were raised (or weren’t), ultimately as an adult we are responsible for what we do with that.  In my mid-twenties when I finally really understood through counseling  after two failed marriages that I always had a choice about what I would participate in and it was up to me to take accountability for myself and make my choices in every situation.  As I practiced that, I was no longer acting from a victim perspective.  Life is life, people are people, and there will be conflict and consequences.  But, they don’t control my choices about what I do.  That’s up to me.  I can no longer blame circumstances or people.  They do what they do, I gotta figure out what I do.  That may be a choice not to put myself in a certain position, or walk (run) away from someone or something.  It’s really about setting boundaries for what I will be a part of.   A tough thing to do when changing that dynamic within yourself, often painful while you’re going through it, but the rewards of becoming who I am and the life I’m living are well worth it.

Well, Mr. Jones (the cat) has indicated that I have spent enough time ignoring him while writing this post.  I’m under attack, so better pay him some attention.

Love and Peace,

Chick