“You are not going out with that boy unless his parents are driving and that's that. I'm not just Spitting Grits here, young lady!”

. . . My father, John Thomas Cravey, USAF, to me in 1956.
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Madness Ascending

 

The impossible of yesterday becomes the achieved of today, because someone has dared.

 u Inscription under Katherine Davis’s picture in the 1923 University of Alabama yearbook.

Katherine Davis, c. 1923

Katherine Davis, c. 1923

In the last post to Spittin’ Grits, I said that Katie Granju’s June 22 piece “Parenting, Denial, and Acceptance” on babble.com touched a nerve. I spent many years mired in guilt and recriminations as a result of believing I must have done, or failed to do, something that drove my daughter to drugs and alcohol addiction and the hideous lifestyle that comes with it. It took a lot of work, professional help, and research to understand how this is at the least highly unlikely.

Granju’s fears include thinking her family and her children were special and protected from those kinds of things happening to them, which somehow disallowed her stepping in to save her son Henry.

Maybe thinking that you and your family are special is just perception, maybe not. Either way, it’s probably healthier than thinking you and they are nothing special.

I always thought mine was special.

Thomas A_edited-1

Take my great-grandfather Thomas A. Davis for example: He owned a business in Montgomery, a concrete company, I think. He was a poet and an astronomer, as was his father, John S. Davis. Problem was, his love for the subjects was unrequited. No one much liked his stuff; he was so heady and intellectual that his business suffered. Oh, well. He was eccentric, if not special.

Johnetta Davis-1908_edited-1 He and Johnetta had four children – one son and three daughters, Aileen (my grandmother), Laura, and Katherine. Marshall raised his family in Louisiana, and I don’t know too much about them. Laura committed suicide very young, and my grandmother suffered greatly from her loss.

The Davis women, 1908, left to right: Laura, Aileen, Johnetta (mother), Mary Marshall (grandmother); front: Katherine The Davis women 1908: (l-r) Laura, Aileen (my grandmother), Johnetta (mother), Mary Marshall Davis (grandmother), and (front) Katherine.

Then there was Katherine, an amazing woman, someone special en route to great things. She was the first from the Davis family to attend college, graduating from The University of Alabama in 1923 – Phi Beta Kappa, Women’s Student Body President, Senior Poet, top beauty, member of many honoraries; at commencement she was presented the Hypatia Loving Cup, UA’s highest honor.

Special, Interrupted

Sometime around 1925, schizophrenia claimed this woman. She spent nearly 30 years in Bryce Hospital for the Mentally Insane, until thorazine was invented, which allowed her to move to my grandmother’s home until her death in the 1970s. Maybe it looks like my grandmother was nothing special, but she loved her sister enough to care for her in her house until her sister died.

Nothing in Katherine’s upbringing, her accomplishments, her potential could stop her head on collision with insanity. Even recognizing symptoms could not have stopped it. She and my grandmother managed her illness with the medication.

Nothing can stop the onset of juvenile diabetes, if you have it; nothing can stop heart disease, if you have it; nothing can stop asthma, if you have it. Without personal management of the diseases, they will take you down. Every disease, whatever it may be, from juvenile diabetes to Parkinsons, begins with a disruption of normal cell activity. Other factors, like genetics and environmental issues, can play a role in severity.

Drug addiction is no different. We know that now. Diseases are disorders of the body, NOT disorders of the Will or morality. The brain is the body.

Addiction’s Home

Alcohol and drug addiction lives in the brain and is chronic. Brain imaging has located it and mapped it. Take your first and second fingers of one hand and make a V in the middle of the forehead; place the index finger of the other hand above the right or left ear. You are locating the mesolimbic dopamine system, the Pleasure Pathway of the brain. The area not working up to speed will drive the person to use drugs and alcohol to compensate, to feel better. And if left untreated, it will kill that person and other innocent bystanders.

A June 23 piece in Wired.com magazine explains how the Pleasure Pathway works in alcoholism and how alcoholism in turn damages the brain. Drug and alcohol addiction is caused by brain malfunction and then turns around and MAKES the brain malfunction, creating a vicious cycle that must be stopped by successful treatment or the addict will die from his/her addictions. As the Wired piece notes, neuroscience has documented that successful treatment can re-train the prefrontal cortex to begin healing and re-functioning.

It’s hard, if not impossible, to understand the hallucinations that Katherine Davis, my great aunt, must have had; equally hard is feeling an addict’s sensations. Here’s how my psychiatrist described it:

If you have ever had a toothache that involved a nerve, you know what real pain sensations feel like. It affects your ear, your whole face, everything. I even tried to hit my head on a wall once to stop that pain. Someone suffering from a chronic and serious back disorder and pain chase relief.

Stopping at Nothing Special

An addict’s sensations are just as intense and as demanding. He/she will run to incredible extremes and suffer irrational consequences to stop the sensations.

When I looked at what must have been my daughter’s symptoms, I did not recognize what I saw. Yet I spent years feeling insufferable guilt. Like Katie Granju has expressed it, like what Tom and Johnetta Davis must have felt, like parents of so many addicts or a mentally disabled child have felt. The guilt, recriminations, regrets can eat you up and leave you wasted.

Those who suffer from chronic diseases have to learn to manage them. Katie Granju’s Granju’s son Henry did not live long enough to learn this the hard way; my daughter has had every opportunity imaginable to know and act on this requirement, and she has not accepted it. Nothing I can do or not do affects this reality. And it’s as real as it gets.

What we can do is change our ways of thinking about addiction and our judgments of addicts and their upbringing. We can see addiction as another public health problem that affects millions more than just the addict.

Syllogistic Power

Remember “syllogism” from school? “All men are mortal; Socrates was a man. Therefore, Socrates was mortal,” which was proved beyond a doubt, because he died.

Here’s a syllogism that may help change thinking: All diseases are disorders of the physical body; addiction is a disorder of the physical body. Therefore, addiction is a disease.

The more we know, the quicker we can recognize symptoms and try to intervene. But recognizing symptoms in time to intervene is NO guarantee that the addict will agree to manage the disease rationally and responsibly.

Learning about the sources of addiction and mental illness will show that we often hold parents too responsible for children’s outcomes. Just think: If we had the power to cause addiction or mental illness, then we would also have the power to undo it. We don’t have either power.

 

Happy Birthday to a New Life

Happy Birthday to Georgia Allison Hickman, brand new daughter of Katie Allison Granju. May she return joy to Katie’s heart.

When I looked at Georgia’s picture in the incubator, it took me back to the night my granddaughter Joanna Leigh was born. Also weighing 5-1/2 pounds, she also had to spend a little while in her incubator. Like Georgia, she looked so tiny to me, and guess what, she is petite – a pipsqueak, I call her.

Petite was new to me. I come from big people and had big babies. But Petite can be fun when you’re buying clothes for a little girl.

Heavy on my mind that night was whether my daughter’s incredible love for this new baby could trump her awful drug addictions. It didn’t; it couldn’t.

The second day, 5 a.m. 5/20/08

 

It was only two months ago that Katie lost her son Henry to drugs and violence. She has bravely recorded her grief and life since that terrible loss on her popular blog http://mamapundit. Like thousands and thousands of other readers, I have followed her touching accounts. One in particular, dated June 22 on Babble.com, has compelled me to address the issues of guilt, recriminations, hindsight, and how a child’s addictions can smash assumptions about your own family and about raising children. In that post, Katie writes:

Even as all the signs were present that Henry's "experimentation" with drugs was morphing into something far more serious and worrisome, I simply couldn't fully grasp that something as terrible and unpleasant as drug addiction could happen to MY child...to OUR family.

I intend to address this in the following days.

 

Parenting Grandparents: The Runaway Grandma

Last weekend I ran away from home.

As I was running away in the car – a really good place to let your mind wander – I remembered how my brother as an elementary school kid ran away a lot. One of my junior high friends ran away to my house regularly. She lived around the corner, maybe a total of six houses away. I guess the streets were much safer in those days, but safe or no, I wasn’t the runaway type. I’d much rather walk or be driven to a friend’s house to spend the night.

Our granddaughter Joanna Leigh runs away. If I fuss at her in a serious way or tell her absolutely “NO” about something, she says, “I’m leaving.”

She prisses away, gets on her pink trike, and goes maybe a fourth of the way up the driveway. She comes back and says, “I went to the store. I’m going back to the store.”

I say, “Well, drive safely and come back soon.”

But even a grandma can run away.

A bit different from the strict definition of running away, I knew in advance where I wanted to go, so I called and made reservations: the Marriott Shoals.

_DSC3210 We had been there before and I knew it would be the medicine I needed to restore and rejuvenate. It sits peacefully on the Tennessee River in the Muscle Shoals/Florence area in northwest Alabama.

Except when the children are all having fun in the pool area, it’s quiet. Someone would wait on me and I wouldn’t have to cook or do dishes. I could read and sleep like a mummy.

Wilson Dam, Tennessee River, from the Marriott Shoals

The Tennessee River and Wilson Dam, from the 5th floor balcony of the Marriott Shoals

Sure enough, I got stuff stashed in the room and headed for the whirlpool. Right before I nearly went to sleep and drowned in the warm water, I knew this runaway would do the trick. It did.

hottub-3

Joanna Leigh in the hot tub on a trip to the Marriott Shoals

I am not shy about saying that raising a three-year-old, on a day-to-day basis, when it’s not a visit but for keeps, is exhausting at my age. Even though I have help from my husband and from Martha, whom I depend on a great deal, it’s shared help, not running away.

The moral of this vignette is that you’ve got to know when it’s really time to run away.

_DSC3030

So, back to the Marriott Shoals. It’s a very kid-friendly place. In addition to the fun pool area, with slides, bridges, corners to swim around, fountains to run through, you can take the kids down the walkway toward the river to River Heritage Water Park and playground.

Shoals-3

 

View to the River Heritage Water Park, from the Marriott Shoals balcony

Walkway to the River Heritage Water Park at the Marriott Shoals

The grounds are well kept, so there’s lots of running and playing. Watching the kids having so much fun, I knew I’d bring Joanna Leigh back again on my next runaway.

The Marriott Shoals also has another feature, which in my opinion is merely an aside but is critical to tons of people who visit from everywhere to take advantage of it: GOLF. Yawn, I’d rather read a book, but. . . . It’s part of the Robert Trent Jones Golf Trail.

The 11-site Trail winds its way through the state from Huntsville, to Birmingham, to Auburn, to Dothan, to Mobile, almost like following Alabama’s river systems. The RTJ hotels also showcase Alabama artists on their walls, rather than the usual generic junk hung over beds and desks in a room.

image

Alabama White Camellia, Nall

Artists include Nall, whose haunting and lovely pieces hung in my room, folk artists Charlie Lucas and Jimmie Lee Sudduth, sculptor Bruce Larsen, photographer Chip Cooper, and many others. (For a look at Chip Cooper's photographs of Charlie Lucas's works, see the October 29, 2009, post here.

The last night I was there I had curled up around my Quesadilla, beer, and Hummingbird cake for dessert on the hotel patio. Suddenly it seemed like the bell had rung on the golf course; it was dark, after all. Golfers descended onto the patio talking about their game, their game the next day, mother balls (?????) that were well marked, mulligans, and handicaps.

All I could think was how happy I was not to be exerting myself on some 8,000-foot golf course named the “Fighting Joe.” No way.

The next day I had to leave. I made it home in time to go to a meeting and pick up Joanna Leigh. That night she came down with fever. She complained about a sore throat. Oooops, strep, I’ll wager.

Sure enough. It’s one of those times you think you’re being picked on, that you’re being paid back for running away.

Was it worth it anyway? Oh, yehhh. When it’s time to run away, JUST DO IT.

Drive safely and maybe come back soon.

 

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