My oldest son totaled a car a few days ago. He’s had his license less than 2 weeks.
Disappointed. Depressed. Frustrated.
These feelings came up for both of us. There was no need to rip into him and make him feel worse. Like me, he’s his own harshest critic.
I was the first person he called after the accident. If I was still drowning my problems in alcohol and drugs, would that have been the case? Doubtful.
That being said, it’s been a rough few days. His $3,000 ride is now worth next to nothing. The car was in really good condition. My Grandmother gave it to him since she is becoming a danger to others and herself on the roadways. Although 14 years old, the car was in perfect “grandma-care” condition. She’s being graceful and like all of us, just cares that he escaped without injury to himself or others.
Yes, I have gratitude that he’s okay and that no one was hurt. Disappointment still persists. I was reminded by a few sober mentors that I wasn’t exactly a valedictorian when I was my son’s age. Hell, I don’t know how my father even put up with me.
Arrested multiple times before I was 18, selling drugs out of my bedroom window, throwing parties on school nights and just plain raising hell. A rebel without a cause. By the Grace of God, we all survived. I’m able to make amends to those still living. For those that have passed, I live my life to honor them. I was blessed with a second chance. Many never took advantage of second chances.
I wonder if my disappointment toward my son is really just me projecting my disappointment toward my younger self. I sometimes romanticize that I would have been an Ivy League graduate had I not found alcohol and drugs. So yes, there’s disappointment to a life I never chose to live.
Maybe, there’s a lesson to be learned there.
Love Life.
