I had no idea how alike both my sons are. But being in the house with the two of them, Mr. Lucky to Be in His Own House and Not the Big House since April, Mr. Rugby since November, it’s clear to me beyond a reasonable doubt that they are both, in a word,
miserable.
And more importantly, and sadly, I am powerless to do anything about it.
To be clear, they're not exactly alike. But in the dictionary, next to the words “miserable bastards,” both their pictures appear. Who knew Webster's was watching?
Mr. Rugby is in physical and thus, mental and emotional pain. He is convinced his life is over, angry at himself for not being able to fix his back (you have a medical degree? And here I thought I paid for four years of rugby!), and pissed off he’s “got no answers!” (I’ve been with him - we have several answers.) The poor guy is also frequently on the verge of, or actively having, a panic attack. They even come on when he’s sleeping and then he bolts out of bed, shaking, and races to the living room where he awakens me from my peaceful (ha) slumber on the pullout sofa.
Never awaken me from a very deep sleep unless you’re cool with being barfed on. True story.
Mr. Lucky to Be in His Own House and Not the Big House is occasionally in physical pain, which I really think stems from the fact that he is Always. In. Bed. and when he isn’t in bed, his anxiety has him bouncing off the walls, bursting with ideas of what he’s going to do in five years when his supervised probation is over.
Win America’s Got Talent. Play Disney World with his band. Score a walk-on tryout with Manchester United. Get picked and launch his pro career. Write a movie about himself, get a friend to produce it and star!
Then, like turning on a dime, the upswing of the rapid cycling portion of the program comes to a close and we begin the walk down “miserable memory” lane. The memories flow like frozen taffy. It can go on, and it has, for hours.
Mr. Rugby is capable of the same protracted diatribe. Different topic, but still, he can go on, and he has, for hours.
Mr. Rugby cries the blues as he talks a blue streak and concludes, every time, every single time, that it’s all his fault. He’s done everything wrong. He deserves what’s happening to him.
Mr. Safe at Home by the Grace of God and His Mother’s Retirement Savings, cries the blues as he talks a blue streak and concludes every time, every single time, that it’s all my fault.
I find both these scenarios exhausting.
I can’t get through to Mr. Lucky to Be Home because he doesn’t live in reality.
And I can’t help Mr. Rugby because he’s practically wearing a sign that says “Danger! Danger! Offer advice at your own risk! Contents flammable! Like, they get really angry! Save yourself! Run!”
I have several friends who are also boy parents. Their sons don’t talk to them. They think I’m lucky mine do.
I used to think I was lucky, too. Now I’m not so sure.
If you’d like to read parts 1-28 of Life On The Inside, you can do so here.
I appreciate you taking this journey with me and letting me rant. Incessantly! Thank you to all of you who’ve been here from the beginning and to all of you who are new. Wow, so many of you! Thanks also to all of you who are paid subscribers. Really, you didn’t have to do that. I’ll tell you though, it helps. It could be three cents and, when it hits my account, it goes directly into the Dr. Morin Fund and I’m grateful because it’s three cents I didn’t have to pull out of thin air!
I love you all. Thank you for listening. And if you know someone who’d get a perverse sense of satisfaction out of reading Life On The Inside (you know, the kind where you think, wow, the author is funny and I’m so happy this shit’s not happening to me!), please, send them my way!
Love,
Susan xo
Hi Susan, Genie Ford here. I’m sorry you are going through all this. But I’m not surprised at how you are handling it, with your usual honesty and bright humor. I think you may also be helping others at the same time. And this will be your best book ever! I’ll be reading all your posts and praying and sending vibes and anything else I can think of. Xxoo
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Susan, it’s Amanda Ross Lustig from college. I’m the one who has MS. I really enjoying reading Life on the Inside. I’m writing my own memoir now. It’s really hard. I don’t know how you do it. Sending you love & hugs. You are going through so much. It sounds exhausting and I just spent two months in the hospital & nursing homes at the end of last year. Stay strong. ❤️