I Could Not Save the Little Bird
I tried to save the little bird
That fell from the big oak tree,
But I could not save the little bird.
What was wrong with me?
I tried to save my mother,
But day-by-day she cried.
I could not save my father
No matter how hard I tried.
I tried to save my daughter;
I tried to save my son.
Day by day my heart did ache,
For I had saved no one.
I finally cried, “Dear Father,
What is wrong with me?
I cannot save the ones I love
Or the bird beneath the tree.”
So, I gave to Him the ones I love
And sat beneath the tree
And realized that day by day
All I can save is me.
—Ricki Elks
Introduction
If you are holding this book, you may be feeling pain that is similar to pain I felt not so many years ago. I stood in the self-help section of a bookstore looking for a publication to give me answers. I had loved ones who needed saving, and I would do anything to save them. (I believed I had proven that over and over.) By then, I was realizing my best wasn’t good enough; my life and the lives of my loved ones were getting worse, not better. The latest in a long line of crises was that my youngest child had turned to drugs. It felt like I was helplessly watching him drown.
I remember that as I scanned the book titles I thought, “I need a book written by someone who has been where I am now.” My situation was urgent. I needed help; I needed answers! I wanted an author who had been where I was. He or she could tell me how they had survived and what they had learned. My friends were growing weary of hearing about my challenges and fears. I wanted to find an author who would feel like a friend but would not grow weary. I didn’t find any such book. The book you are holding is the one for which I was searching.
I will share with you from my heart some of my heartbreaks and many of my mistakes. I’ll share how my lowest point led me to my greatest victory. I’ll share how I found hope and a bounty of answers that outnumbered even the questions I had that day in the bookstore. Our journey together will begin slowly and intensify as we progress. It will parallel the learning process I experienced. Some names in the story have been changed to respect the individuals’ privacy.
Before we move on, it is important to emphasize that I have no formal training in behavioral counseling or in the area of drug and alcohol abuse. There are some great books written by the experts. I have read many of them, and you, too, could benefit from them. Over the years, I have also been fortunate to receive much wise counsel from behavioral experts. You may want to consider seeking this option as well. My only credentials are those of a mother who has been there. To quote a Romanian proverb: “Only the foolish learn from experience—the wise learn from the experience of others.” So, let’s just say I have learned a few things over the years and I am willing to share them in the hope of saving you some painful lessons.
I Lived in Constant Fear That One of My Plates Would Fall
I finally made an appointment to see a counselor. He asked me why I was there. I told him I felt like a circus performer I had seen who could keep seven plates spinning at once on top of seven thin rods. I told him that’s who I had become in my life—a circus performer running back and forth giving all the people I love a spin. I would help and love on one of my “plates” and then run to the opposite end to save a wobbling one before it crashed. I lived in constant fear that one of my plates would fall and that it would certainly be my fault. “It’s getting harder and harder,” I confessed. I told the counselor I felt I was watching my son drown. “I’m here to ask you how to save my son,” I said. My marriage and all the rest of my plates were wobbling, but my child was on his way to the floor!
When the counselor finally spoke, I was confused by what he said: “First, let’s talk about you.” Much later, I understood.
As we spend this time together through this book, I hope you will allow yourself to think about more than your loved ones who need to be saved. I hope you will think about you. Let’s begin.