by Margo Walter
The visit with the Admiral and my son was definitely a shot in the arm for me. It brought me back to recovery. Through all the turmoil I had stayed sober with no alcohol or unprescribed drugs for twelve years. It was time to go back to meetings, get a sponsor, and practice honesty with my therapist. My son was expecting his first child in October (my first grandchild) and I wanted to be there for him. I had a job that was both challenging and rewarding. It was time to get my act together.
May 31, 1998
“Dear Matt… I thought that I would drop you a line and catch you up on the Virginia news. We only have eight more days of school, and I cannot wait for the break. I worked in the yard and garden all weekend and really am looking forward to more time outside. We now have four cows (two moms and two calves) in our front pasture. A farmer lends us the cows every summer, so they have a place to graze and we keep down the hay.
I have decided to work this summer in a reading and math camp our school has here for the neediest kids of all. They really need help, not only in academics but “life.” This is the first summer they have ever had a counselor, and I am pretty proud of the way it came about. I got the university to give us a grant for the program to provide counseling for these children through the summer and I in return would not only act as the counselor but coordinate graduate student volunteers from the university who want to work with children. Everyone benefits and I am even getting a small stipend. I am excited about the program and will tell you all about it when it starts in July.
George is coming down here for a visit June 19th, and he and his wife move to Gainesville August 15th. They are still excited about the move and their first baby, which is due October 16th.
Our daughter, Kate, has lost eighty-five pounds and still trying to lose sixty more. She has always had an extreme weight problem and finally decided to take action. She had gastroplasty, where they staple the stomach, and has no complications from her surgery. It was a drastic measure but necessary for her health and self-esteem. I am so proud of her.
All the dogs are shedding their winter coats all over us and the house. We do plan to get another puppy this summer for breeding, and anyone who knows us says that we are crazy to have six dogs. Oh well!!! Emmy, the cat, is especially dismayed.
Chris sends his best. He will be finishing up his internship to become a principal this summer and will teach in the classroom at least another year…. I think about you and pray for you every day. Lots of love, Janet”
***
My mother, my older brother, and his wife were now living in the Turks and Caicos Islands. They had purchased fifty acres to develop into a tourist resort and were quite busy making that happen. After building a house for my mother, they constructed five cottages to rent, and my brother became a general contractor overseeing lot purchase and construction of individual homes for investors. The purchasers only spend a limited amount of time each year in their homes. That led to my mother and brother becoming landlords in charge of leasing individual vacation homes. It was a full-time job, and I had little contact with any of them. More about the islands later.
***
The facts are not pretty. I have been hospitalized six times, and there has been little communication with any of my family. I know that my father is quite ill, which means I have no parents that give a shit. I am trying to take responsibility for my life, but it is so difficult reaching the grown-up status. I expect my parents to take care of me, to love me unconditionally. Why I hang on to this myth, I would eventually understand.
June 17, 1998
“Dear Admiral… It is that time of year again when fathers everywhere are honored, and I want you to be no exception. You and I certainly have an unusual father–daughter relationship, but I am just thankful that we have had one at all. My trip to Florida with George, was the best and even though it was a short lunch, it was the best lunch that I had with my father. George told me how neat it was to meet his grandfather.
I thought that I would have time to go visit Mother in the Turks and Caicos this August, but there is just not enough time and it is not going to happen. Maybe she will come to the States in the fall.
Please drop us a line if you get the chance and have an absolutely wonderful Father’s Day!!! Love, Janet”
June 17, 1998
“Dear Janet… Thanks for the greeting and the message. It is tough going and no assurance of any success. It is not if I am going to die now; it is when. I will keep you advised better. Matt”
There was no question that the Admiral was declining, and it would be six months before I heard from him again. Silence is not always golden. I was getting older, and my father was dying. I did hope that we would see each other again, but I was convinced that was not going to happen.
December 22, 1998
“Dear Janet… I have no idea how to get you on the net at this point so here goes a letter to you. Things are pretty depressing at this time with my wife gone, but the children are taking good care of me. Hope you gave had a nice holiday and will have happy and healthy New Year. My outlook is not very promising but then I have had a full life and have no regrets and all of us most (sic) go sometime. I will keep in touch with you. Best to the family. Love Matt”
February 27, 1999
“Dear Dad… I desperately need a dad right now! I don’t know if you are still online but please answer this if you are. We are having serious problems and I need your experience and your wisdom. I love you, Janet”
March 2, 1999
“Dear Dad… I need a dad right now. Since the beginning of this year, Chris and I have had so many challenges that I feel I’m losing the race even though I can’t walk. I have had back problems since last May and was finally operated on February 8 in Charlottesville at the University Hospital. Scar tissue and a disk were removed. There was major improvement, but I have a great deal of pain in my left leg and back. One week after surgery we drove to Akron for Chris’s dad’s funeral. That was extremely painful just riding in the car and I was an emotional wreck at the funeral. One week after we returned home (last Friday), I was fired from my school counseling job. The county was very careful legally not to imply that I was let go because of being out so long, so they used poor performance as the reason. Last year and every evaluation before that showed exemplary work, dedication to the school and negated everything that this evaluation said. We just don’t have the resources or money to fight it. I will probably have to go back on disability until I can be trained for my next career. Whatever that might be….
I need to end this because I am in a very bad mood and it is not right to dump all this stuff on you. I hope you are alright. I want to see you again when I am in Gainesville visiting George, or I want to be notified immediately of your death. Either way I want the opportunity to say goodbye. I love you and I need to do that. It sounds kind of depressive, but it is reality and part of life. I love you very much and am very proud of you, Janet”
I wanted to touch him again, to be embraced by him, and to see his soft smile. I knew this was the end and felt so powerless and helpless. My sponsor had instilled a mantra in my mind throughout the years in recovery. That is what I thought of. “God’s in charge.” It was short and yet so comforting. My life was so busy that I just put my father on a shelf and tried to forget that he was dying.
At the same time, I was being fired from my job, and it was really a big deal. It did result from hospitalization and an ill-informed superintendent. My contract was not renewed, and the only reason was my disclosure of being a person with bipolar disorder. I could have invoked my rights under the American Disabilities Act and made a stink of the whole ordeal. Stigma was alive and well. Truthfully, I was ready to make a move and resigned peacefully. I had a considerable resentment and needed to resolve that ongoing rage toward my principal. I was tired, drained. My feelings of wanting to retaliate or get even did not disturb anyone but me.
> They say that God does not shut one door without opening another. I felt like all the doors, and the windows, were sealed shut, and I needed a giant crowbar to get out. Being unemployed or maybe unemployable hit me full force this time. I was carrying so much guilt about my son, David, that it was hard to focus on a new direction.
Years later, this man walked up to me during a local street fair and gave me a big hug. Once I recognized that he was my former principal, the gregarious greeting made no sense. However, I realized that I had forgiven him, and the resentment was gone.
***
Late April of 1999, I did not realize that I was experiencing a full-blown manic attack. The signs were there, but I did not see them. I was juggling so many balls that one was bound to fall. There is one guarantee when you are riding a manic high. You will crash into depression, and the higher you are, the further you will fall. I was hospitalized experiencing a full psychotic break and could not see any way out except for suicide. My best plans did not work, but I came awfully close. I hung myself in my hospital room. There was a dividing curtain between the two beds in my room. They had not taken my bra away from me upon admittance. I carefully tied my bra around my neck, stood on the night table, fastened the other end around the curtain and jumped off the table. I was full of equal parts of fear, guilt, and excitement. I do not know how long I hung there, but that nurse jumped on me to bring me down. I started sobbing and was totally uncontrollable. My psychiatrist was called, and I was given strong sedatives to calm down. They put me in the quiet room in four-point restraints. Everyone said that it was for my own safety. My tears were a long time coming, and every drop was for David. Finally, the dam had broken, and all the hurt, the guilt, the remorse came flooding out. Little did I know that that would be the turning point in my life. I did not need a parent, a mother, a father, a husband, or a child to fix me. I wanted to start living again. I really did want to fly. I felt like circumstances, not a bulldozer, like the Dr. Seuss story, had gently put me back in the nest. I felt safe and confident that I could handle life on life’s terms. It had been almost five years since David died.
Chapter 7: Letting Go
I was asked recently by a young woman living with bipolar disorder, “At what age did you finally accept your disease?” Wow! I had to really think about that and finally confessed to her that it was in my late forties when I was in a psychiatric hospital and accepted that my son had died, and no one was to blame. “I think that I accepted my disease when I surrendered and let go of all the anger.” She thanked me for sharing my experience and made an incredible comment, “I want to grow up to be just like you. I want to have balance in my life and learn to live with this illness.” We left it at that, but it was an eye-opener as to how far I had come. My life journey not only had detours but new signs along the way. I was learning to STOP, YIELD, and PROCEED WITH CAUTION.
April 9, 1999
“Hi Janet… This is Patricia, the Admiral’s granddaughter. He is doing okay, but does not get on his computer much anymore, so I print his email for him. I will see him tomorrow so I will give him this message. Maybe you can call him at (904) 246-2261. Thanks.”
***
May 23, 1999, my mother telephoned to tell me that the Admiral, my father, had died. I do not know how she got that information, but I was thankful to get the call. It was ironic that she was the one to deliver the message. Chris had a couple of Navy friends, and he got the details of the funeral.
Chapter 8: The Secret Is Out
We have come full circle in my memoir. You have already heard how I felt at that military funeral service in Arlington, Virginia. It was the beginning of my story, but not the end. I felt so left out. I knew what it was like to feel like a square peg in a round circle. It had been several years since I had seen my father, and I thought that it was time to break the code of secrecy. After the funeral service, Chris and I did attend the reception. We did not get an invitation, because no one in the Admiral’s family knew that I existed. A significant change in my life was about to take place.
***
Since the age of nineteen, I had kept that special red notebook of every letter that my father had ever written and a few mementos from our visits. It was that three-ring binder that I took to the reception. I did not really have a plan. With Chris at my side for moral support, I approached the Admiral’s only son, Jim, and asked him for a few minutes of his time. Not knowing what to expect, he led us over to a private corner of the room, and we all stood silent for that exceptionally long minute where time hangs in the air. Finally, I held up the notebook and realized that it was not going to speak. It was time for me to get some courage. I felt like I blurted out, “You are my brother, Jim. The Admiral is my father. I mean Matt was my father.” Jim had a perplexed look, and I really did not know where to go from there. I held up the notebook and showed him the first letter that was signed “Dad.” I told him that I had known for thirty years but was asked to keep secret this relationship as no one in his family knew of his “indiscretion.” That word was another euphemism that turned my stomach. The Admiral slept with my mother one night, and I was the result. I had heard the phrase bastard before and refused to go that far. I was a mistake, but as the Admiral had told me, a good mistake and not a loser.
The funeral reception opened up an entirely new world and included my one half brother and four half sisters. Jim did not seem that surprised and immediately called over to his sisters to join us in a small anteroom off the central reception area. Jim announced my news to his siblings. There were four entirely different reactions, and I stood my ground. Jim showed his sisters the notebook, and I remained silent until I heard the response from my new oldest half sister. “Thank God my mother is not here, and she passed before you came forward.” Now I know what it is like to be “outed,” to come out of the closet, to disclose your true identity. It had taken forty-nine years, but the family secret had been blown. I did ask if I could contact Jim and the sisters individually. Carol, the oldest, answered for everyone, “What do you want from us?” I had expected this response and had a reply. “I do not want money. I just wanted to meet my brother and sisters.” When I answered Carol’s question, I knew I wanted more than any of them could give me. I wanted my father that we had just buried. There was no doubt that he was my father in my mind, but I could see all the denial and disbelief in this new-found family. They were looking at me like I had horns growing out of my head and huge extended hands asking for handouts. Everyone looked at the notebook and seemed cautiously impressed with the “Love, Dad” letter. There was that awkward silence again that filled at least three more minutes and felt like twenty. Jim took over and suggested we exchange home addresses and contact each other in the future. “Future” was an odd word. Did he mean this week, this month, or next year? It turned out that each sister and Jim had their own interpretation of time.
The year following the funeral, we did get a surprise visit from Jim and his son, Parker. We spent a couple of days together, visiting the university, hiking up our local waterfalls, going for a drive up to Mountain Lake, and talking, lots of talking. The visit was fantastic, and I was excited to discover my new brother and nephew. To this day, I do not know what happened. Jim moved to Seattle, and all communication stopped. I did get an email during the Christmas holidays and a couple of messages on Facebook, but that was it. I just assumed that something had been said during his visit that was offensive, fearful, or pushed the wrong buttons. After trying to reach Jim for a couple of years, I gave up and waited to hear from him. I feared that he had found out that I had a serious mental illness and he no longer wanted a relationship. By this time, I was not keeping my bipolar disorder a family secret. This conclusion as to why Jim was cutting me out of his life was probably farfetched, but it had occurred with a past friend, so it was not entirely unfounded. In any case, my priorities had definitely changed, and the “father” issue was on hold. I was spending more time
with my immediate family.
Chapter 9: My Nest
I am going to backtrack and look at my new unemployment. There is a difference in being unemployed and unemployable. Having resigned as a school counselor, the school system was no longer an option. I was headed in a new direction. It was time to take a breather and figure out what I was going to do with the rest of life. Fortunately, I still had the excellent support team that was helping me stay sober. My husband, my daughter, my son, my psychiatrist, my counselor, and my sponsor were my management team. It would take each one of them to help me be an active member of my family, my community, and learn how to love myself. The last goal was the toughest. Building my confidence, increasing my self-esteem, and learning to fly solo was a tall, tall order. It was not an event that happened one weekend. My sponsor told me it was like peeling an onion, and each layer would uncover who I was and who I wanted to be. It was a process and did require constant vigilance. There were sad days. I no longer said things like, “If only I had a father to hold my hand. If only I had a father to ….” I had grown past that excuse. His death and his funeral were behind me. It was time to move on, as they say. Who would be a part of this new journey, and did I have a firm reliance on those around me? Some days yes, and some days no. Once you have decided to live, connections and relationships are possible. It is possible to mature like a ripe green apple that turns red. I was positively green, a newcomer to this line of thinking. What was important to me and what were my priorities?