To The Addict I Love

I know you’re there.
I know you’re listening.
I know you read my messages.

My very first article….published on Elephant journal

I also know that it’s almost impossible for you to see the ripple effect you’ve had on the lives of others, especially since you are trying so hard to just survive hour to hour, day to day.

But if you could see it…

You would see people who are hurting because of your struggles, hurting because of your pain. You would see people who long for your happiness again, who want to hear your laugh and your stupid jokes.

If you could see and feel these things, then that would mean you could feel the pain of a little girl who doesn’t know where you went. One minute you were there, making up funny names with her and riding on scary carnival rides, trying to not be terrified while she was squealing with joy.

You would see the future of a little boy who will have to tell his friends and his future kids that he never knew you, that he never learned how to hunt and fish from you. He will say to his girlfriend on their first date that the only memory he has is of the two of you together on a backhoe, smiling brightly. He will sit in anticipation, wondering how fun you could have been.

If you could see this, you would also see people who take time and effort to reach you, only to be ignored. You would see confused moms and dads and brothers and sisters, who can’t get past their own pain to know how to help.

These people long for the past. They relive stories of camping and vacations. They think of all the things you taught them in your unique, funny way.

Hell, they would even love to hear what these last few years have taught you.

But you won’t tell them.
Because you’re enslaved.
To this thing.
This monster thing that came into your life.
Slowly, but progressively, he told you lies.
So many lies.
That just one wouldn’t hurt.
That just one more wouldn’t hurt.
That you needed the break.
That you could handle it.
That you weren’t addicted.
That even if you’re were a little addicted, you’d stop tomorrow.

It told you to spend more and more time with it. And more and more money. Until you had no more time and no more money for anything else.

But it told you that was okay, because all you needed was one more time. All you needed was him—it. The demon disguised as pleasure.

You hate yourself for believing it. You hate yourself for needing it to get through the day, even the hour, without being sicker than a dog.

You hate yourself for not being able to quit.
You hate yourself for not being smarter and stronger.
And all that willpower you used to have, to work and take chances and convince people of anything?
You were power. You were a warrior.
Where is that guy?
You hate that you can’t find him.
You hate that you can’t admit you don’t know how to find him.

But I know one thing:

You are still needed.
Your presence.
Your love.
Your vitality.
Your wisdom.

Your unique, loving, bigger-than-life heart is your greatest investment. Jobs and money come and go. But people who truly love you don’t.

You’re a warrior—a loving warrior.

And I can hardly wait to see you move past this time in your life.

I honor your struggles and your journey.
I’m willing to go through all my emotions, all my pain to wait out what you need to do to get through this.

I’m rooting for you—my warrior hidden under that addict.
Come out soon.
Come back.
Please.

~READ 4 COMMENTS AND REPLY X

Read 4 comments and reply

Samantha Waters | Contribution: 705

Samantha Waters steps out from small-town America and plunges into the creative world of writing, painting rocks, hunting rocks, forging new mountain trails, and going to her … Read full bio

AUTHOR: SAMANTHA WATERS

IMAGE: @LAURAKLINKE_ART/INSTAGRAM

EDITOR: NICOLE CAMERON

RELEPHANT READS:

The Journey from Childhood Trauma to Addiction.I Still Miss Meth (& Other Confessions of an Addict).9 Things Nobody Tells You about Recreational Drug Use in Your Youth.SEE RELEVANT ELEPHANT VIDEO

Elephant isn’t just a big web site.

We’re community-driven. We’re dedicated to sharing “the mindful life” beyond the core or choir, to all those who don’t yet know they give a care. We focus on anything that’s good for you, good for others, and good for our planet.

Broken Love

Anonymous Guest post

I never wanted for us to fall apart the way we did..but then, no one ever does.
Our love was strong, powerful and passionate ..the sort of love that we all search for our entire lives.
But as we found that our attraction that was intensely overwhelming sometimes, we overlooked a lot of other things..
Things we should have been paying attention to.
We may have seen the truth but refused to acknowledge it, I can’t really say.
I tried to do whatever I could to make you happy..
Somewhere along the way, I began trying to fix you, to do whatever I could to make your life better..or so I thought.
I poured so much of myself into you and us that it slowly began to eat at me..
Tearing me apart, little by little.
I don’t know why I thought I had to save you, that you needed my help to fix your problems..
But that’s just who I am, I guess..a fixer.
I tried to do for you so much that I stopped doing for myself.
I lifted you up when you wouldn’t even stand on your own..and it broke me a little more every time.
So, now we stand at a crossroads and I don’t know where the path leads from here.

We have the love that most only dream of, but that’s been lost a little as we fought to keep going forward.
I don’t have any answers other than that I know I love you and I couldn’t make it work.

I’d fallen to my knees, drained as the struggle of carrying us both threatened to tear me apart..
But I’m rising again and finally remembering my own strength,
A little more every day, a little braver each time.
I know now I can’t save you or fix you- only you can do what needs to be done to make yourself happy.
So, as I stand in front of you, hand outstretched, the choice is yours to make.
Is our love worth fighting for, or does this chapter close our story?
I know we will do what’s best for both of us, just always know that I did all I could for love, for us.
If I have to walk away, I’ll always do it knowing I gave it my all.
In the end, that’s all we can really do.
Live, laugh, and love till we can’t anymore.

I believe in you,

I know we can emerge from this battle stronger, wiser, and closer.
What’s meant to be will always find a way,
Through the storms, I know we can make it, through
Now more than ever, I truly believe.

You Forgot to Tell Me, Mama

Photo courtesy of author

Mama you forgot to tell me how hard it was.

You forgot to mention how those sweet little sticky faces grow up to get in sticky situations.

You forgot to tell me the battles they will face.

You didn’t mention how far my heart would drop when I heard my child was struggling.

You failed to tell me
about the lump in my throat when I heard my child was getting divorced.

You didn’t even mention my eyes; that they would cry a thousand tears when I didn’t know where my son was.

You didn’t tell me Mama.

You didn’t tell me what to do when I’m in my warm bed at night, my belly full, wondering how much weight my boy has lost this week or when he last ate a meal.

You must have missed the part when the phone call from the jail came. You didn’t tell me what to say to this:

"Incoming call from a facility to house your child that obviously can't control himself- do you accept the charges?"

No I don’t accept!!

I don’t accept that my little blonde haired boy who loved dump trucks, and dirt bikes and playing tricks on his sister; who loved to go fishing and camping and finding little baby frogs in the pond; is now locked up in a freezing cold cement cell.

I don’t accept that he says they only turn on the heat every few hours when a visitor or vendor comes by.

I don’t accept it because I don’t even know what’s real anymore.

I don’t even know if that God you talked about so much exists Mama. Because it seems like HE has forsaken me.

When I’m driving to work, I cry out to Him, the tears so thick, I can’t even see anymore. I beg and beg for this pain to stop. For my little family to be healed again. You didn’t tell me what to do then.

You didn’t tell me what to say when people ask “How are you?” “Fine” seems so ridiculously false.

Mama, I don’t know what to do anymore.

I’m trying so hard to remember those simpler times.

The carefree days you told me about. The cotton candy at the fair and taffy down at the 5 and dime store.

You playing “kick the can” and swimming in the creek.

Photo by Shorpy.com

I’ll bet you never thought that sixty years later your youngest daughter would be asking you for answers to an unknown problem.

You loved my boy. The night he came home from the hospital you stayed up with him so I could rest & so he “wouldn’t choke”. If he did, you would always ” raise his left arm”. An old wives tale I suppose.

But it worked.
Maybe I could try something like that now.

Anything.

Anything you tell me to do Mama, I’ll try.

I know you did the best you could, I only wish you were here to help me again.

Maybe you could do something from heaven.
Can you start a prayer circle there? Do you guys pray?

Oh Mama.

I wish you would have told me that my heart never seems to heal. I wish I would have known the pain you felt when you lost your boy.

I wish I could have comforted you more.

Sometimes I get a whiff of your hair spray. Or Wrigley’s spearmint gum. Or the lilac bush we had in the yard.

It sends me back.
To when I thought my worst day was not getting a part in the school play.

Oh how life changes Mama.

Come to think of it, you did teach me how to deal with life. You made soup out of nothing, and mended clothes over and over. You put bread wraps inside my boots to keep the snow out. You marched to the school to stand up for me when I couldn’t.

You cleaned my house when I had my babies. You watched them so I could work night after night even as you were getting old.

You fixed cuts with that stingy red medicine.
You told me to stop yelling at my kids so much.

I realize now that you had the answers all along Mama!

It’s LOVE!

You did LOVE.💛 
You did it right.💛 
You were LOVE.💛
And you taught me how to Love.

Thank you Mama.
Rest in paradise…..I’ll carry on from here.

Extreme Independence is a Trust Issue

Photo by Word Press

I recently received a text from my 35-year-old amazingly talented, funny, entrepreneur son who is currently homeless, jobless, IRS sought-after, county police department sought- after, which said:

“Hey, we need to talk. I don’t think we’re on the same page. You seem to have this vision of me that I use drugs; passed out somewhere, on the verge of overdosing. I’ve never been more in control of my drug habit. I only use {twice a day} to stay well, so I don’t get sick. I don’t have a drug problem, I have a money problem”.

“Okaaaaay son. I would love for you to get to a more stable place. Let me know how I can help”.

“See that’s what I’m talking about, you seem to think I’m living more dangerously and out of control than I am.
I’m Fine.

I just need a break with money, to get ahead to get back on my feet”.

Aside from the obvious brain hijacking that years of substance use has caused; this is quite the most INDEPENDENTLY ridiculous statement I’ve heard.

I mean, he’s NOT OK! But I guess that’s just me.🤷‍♀️

I read once that with addicts you have to look at their actions, not their words, and they look TO your actions, not your words. In other words: they lie, and need OUR boundaries to contain those lies.

I think.

Regardless, my son is in deep do-do.

His refusal to get help is maddening at times. I suppose it’s a great lesson in giving someone their right to their journey and having autonomy in their life, but where does that end when they are at risk and unable to act to protect themselves and others?

Although their behavior has proven that they aren’t functioning with rational thinking, involuntarily commitment {to treatment} varies from state to state. It’s a touchy subject bordering on a person’s rights to free will versus their danger to themselves and the community.

Think about it. People who have lost the ability to regulate their need for dangerous substances and furthering their risk to commit crimes to feed their cravings are doing things that we would never let a mentally challenged person do.

I know I’m making them sound like they’re incapable of a rational clear thought. I understand addicts are not high ALL the time. They have moments of clarity in which they understand the mess they’re in. More on that later.

What I really want to talk about is this stubbornness or refusal to get help.

‘Bull-headedness’ as my Poppa would say. I had a counselor tell me once:

“If they refuse help then they can suffer the consequences.”

This was also the same counselor who compared a bank robber to an addict. “They just do it for the ‘rush’. He said.

I prefer a more heart-centered approach. When I came upon this article, it rang true for my son. Always the go-to guy. The Leader. The captain went down with the ship but is still holding on to the last rudder. For probably the same reasons he started using drugs. The failure to process trauma Or Trauma BLOCKING (which can be ANY death, divorce, loss, or even changing schools); has taught him to fear his emotional state without substances. So he is unwilling or flat out scared to go back to that vulnerable out of control person he was before drugs.

This ingrained independence, even in face of devastating conditions such as homelessness, can keep a substance user stuck in the cycle of “Chasing the Dragon”.

I firmly believe that my son is petrified at failing at recovery. He believes since he technically “failed” at life (he didn’t); and has now identified himself as a loser, drug addict, and deadbeat dad; he’s unwilling to disappoint himself and everyone else again. His hijacked brain has him believing that the ONLY way for him to survive is to keep hustling.

Furthermore, in his mind, the people who he had helped before the sinking of the ship, do not want anything to do with him as an addict, so the bond with the criminals and other addicts is one of acceptance-regardless of the negative circumstances. As he has told me many times, “I have nobody”.

Although Jamila White’s article isn’t geared toward addiction, how many times have we heard that trauma is one of the main causes?

This. Hits. Hard.

The inability to receive support from others is a trauma response.

Your “I don’t need anyone, I’ll just do it all myself” conditioning is a survival tactic. And you needed it to shield your heart from abuse, neglect, betrayal, and disappointment from those who could not or would not be there for you.

From the parent who was absent and abandoned you by choice or the parent who was never home from working three jobs to feed and house you.

From the lovers who offered sexual intimacy but never offered a safe haven that honored your heart.

From the friendships and family who ALWAYS took more than they ever gave.

From all the situations when someone told you “we’re in this together” or “I got you” then abandoned you, leaving you to pick up the pieces when shit got real, leaving you to handle your part and their part, too.

From all the lies and all the betrayals.

You learned along the way that you just couldn’t really trust people. Or that you could trust people, but only up to a certain point.

Extreme-independence IS. A. TRUST. ISSUE.

You learnt: if I don’t put myself in a situation where I rely on someone, I won’t have to be disappointed when they don’t show up for me, or when they drop the ball… because they will ALWAYS drop the ball EVENTUALLY right?

You may even have been intentionally taught this protection strategy by generations of hurt ancestors who came before you.

Extreme-independence is a preemptive strike against heartbreak.

So, you don’t trust anyone.

And you don’t trust yourself, either, to choose people.

To trust is to hope, to trust is to be vulnerable.

“Never again,” you vow.

But no matter how you dress it up and display it proudly to make it seem like this level of independence is what you always wanted to be, in truth it’s your wounded, scarred, broken heart behind a protective brick wall.

Impenetrable. Nothing gets in. No hurt gets in. But no love gets in either.

Fortresses and armor are for those in battle, or who believe the battle is coming.

It’s a trauma response.

The good news is trauma that is acknowledged is trauma that can be healed.

You are worthy of having support.
You are worthy of having true partnership.
You are worthy of love.
You are worthy of having your heart held.
You are worthy to be adored.
You are worthy to be cherished.
You are worthy to have someone say, “You rest. I got this.” And actually deliver on that promise.
You are worthy to receive.
You are worthy to receive.
You are worthy.

You don’t have to earn it.
You don’t have to prove it.
You don’t have to bargain for it.
You don’t have to beg for it.

You are worthy.
Worthy.
Simply because you exist.

-Jamila White, @inspiredjamila
-photo credit: Randy Orange

I believe the best way to help them see that its ok to ask for and receive help is to offer those positive phrases without mentioning what a mess their addiction has caused. They KNOW what they did! Its just too painful for them to face right now. We have to appeal to their sense of human-ness completely separate from their drug use, by not labeling that AS their identification of WHO THEY ARE as a fluctuating human. Shaming and blaming doesn’t seem to help ME want to do better, so I can imagine it’s even worse with them.

If they can start to believe that they are capable and worthy of achieving a life without drugs, they MIGHT take that first step and reach out. Ultimately, every recovered addict says the same thing: it’s a matter of surrender.

Surrending to the will of something greater than yourself. Surrending to the peace of realizing you might not have all the answers. Surrendering to the relief that someone is willing to meet you with all your demons and walk you out. For a better life. Exposing your vulnerability and being willing to trust the process. Ultimately it’s caring enough about yourself to WANT to get better.

Stinkin-Thinkin

& Money Woes of addiction- with guest post by Andi Miana of Romania

I saw a post recently about the effect the pandemic has had on people with substance use disorder.

If it’s not the isolation and disconnection from services as shown here in this article, then it’s the wave of free money that has followed.

I’m not saying that substance use people shouldn’t have basic needs; in fact I adamantly believe they are human whether they are doing what WE think they should or not.

They should not be denied access to services, as we would never deny insulin to a diabetic, whether they caused the disease themselves, either through their behaviors or genes. It shouldn’t matter. As a health care worker (& a human) it’s NOT MY JOB to play God or Judge nor Jury.

What I want to address is how hard it is to deliver these services to people who’s brain is the organ affected with their disease.

If you were speaking to a pancreas, and trying to tell them:

“Look dude, you NEED this insulin cause you’re just not cuttin it yourself. For whatever reason, your slacking on the job, & other things are starting to suffer and affect everything else needed to function effectively!”

It would probably shiver and sigh and wiggle its pink body and give in….

But since it’s the brain that is affected in addiction and is basically hijacked in the pleasure center to be BRAINWASHED into believing that DRUGS are ALL it needs; we have a problem convincing it.

Any money that’s presented, it only sees drugs. An unlocked car, a speaker, a gift card, all are magically morphed in to drugs. Because drugs represent relief. Freedom from the sickness that they are starting to feel every 8-12 hours. Sickness so horrible that the person swears to never experience it again, if only they can have one more hit. But that cycle is difficult to break out of day to day with no support or services.

Shadow the rat- You Tube

It’s hard for us to imagine because we have a balance with our pleasures and pain. We can adjust and handle them. With addiction, they have lost that ability. Rational thinking, long term thinking, and dangerous consequences are temporarily wiped from the equation.

If you need more info on that process visit my page Here. I’ve combined my favorite brain videos in one place.

So here we are. Stimulus checks coming out. Parents everywhere are in fear of what their loved one will do with them. Personally, I’m in quite the quandary. My son is hurting. Starving, having lost over 100 lbs in the last 9 months. But he doesn’t want food. His brain only sees the next hour at a time. He has lost his vehicles and tools which was his ability to make money. He has warrants and mandatory sentencing awaiting him if he applies for anything including a job or services to live. A healthy brain would choose to turn itself in, like the pancreas, but the brain is a different animal.

My son needs money. He has burned every bridge to obtain that money. Technically the checks are his money. He paid into the system for 17 years, working his tail off since he was 15. He built the American dream until heroin stole it all.

Or he gave it away to heroin. But again, I’m not the judge & jury of another persons life.

I loved the following response to the stimulus money post.

This recovering addict states that we can’t blame the stimulus checks or anyone else really, on furthering an addiction. It’s ultimately up to the individual, which (to me) is why tough love & rock bottom are not blanket solutions for everyone. People recover when they decide not, it’s not really in anyone else power to make them sit in a corner until they do….But that’s another story.

I am Andi, from Romania. I know from my ”addict status” that I was prone to find anyone and anything else guilty for my consuming, but my own illness and choice of not healing what I need to heal in a healthy way.

So…in recovery, I’ve learned that this is what we call ”stinking-thinking”. We can blame …as you say, even the government, but we addicts know very well that with or without this money I would find a way to consume when I crave. Sorry… it’s the reality of this disease.

Addiction is in the world since forever and there were times…not when no government gave no money, even more…they would take money from people, and addiction somehow was still preserved… So…I am sorry but at a time it will be important to admit step 1.. and to emotionally grow up, and admit that it’s actually nobody’s fault, nobody is creating this disease for someone else, we addict embrace it, it’s like a natural drive to which we respond, but it is my-as a sick person-responsibility to do something about it. Especially if I am an adult myself.

Nobody can do this path for me. Well yes, it was convenient for me to find excuses: I consume because my friends do because the neighbor’s cat died, because at work my boss, my mom isn’t loving to me, I am fat…because women suffer in Irakc or the ozone layer is thinning.

The reality is that I consume no matter what is going on in the world – you guys from outside can find me any excuses ever I’ll be content cause its giving me more time to consume, actually, it because I have this awful disease that does not help me control my compulsions and progress of it, is because I’m not doing anything to stop the behavior and do things for my spirit and soul. I hope my sharing would help me understand, the topic certainly helped me remember those times when I was thinking this way and it stopped me big time from doing anything good for myself.-Andi Miana

I have no answers as of now. I can only keep praying and hoping that somewhere, sometime, some person or entity can reach my son before it’s too late. Until then, I will do my best to treat him with dignity and respect that he deserves a healthy, safe, productive life again. 💚

A Glimpse into the Mind of a Recovered Narcissist

I am in no way an expert on narcissism. Although, It seems to be the go-to word these days for anyone who displays any controlling or selfish-appearing behavior; there are also legit narcissists roaming the relationship and workplace arenas.

I was pleasantly surprised to come across this blog from a man who admits to many years of straight out full-on narcissism. His unique way of telling his story caught my attention. Hope you enjoy.

Guest blog by Robert Coello

ROBERT COELLO

From the Head to the Heart

Uncategorized Dec 27, 2019

Loving from the heart and not the head is an essential part of the transformational process that Jesus so graciously takes us through. If, we are first willing to accept the invitation, as well as the ticket price.

“Ticket price! What do you mean ticket price?, He already paid the price!

If you don’t believe there’s a hefty cost in store as we migrate on this journey being transformed into the likeness of Jesus, perhaps on more than one occasion you may have declined an invitation within the invitation?

I do not suffer from a martyrdom syndrome, and I certainly do not believe that It is a prerequisite for me to beat my chest as I march for two or three days to “suffer for Jesus.” Nor do I find it necessary to self-inflict wounds as a means of demonstrating my devotion, allegiance, love, worship or anything man made by any stretch, in order to gain His affirmation and approval.

Many of us have come to the awareness that we reside in an upside-down Kingdom, and there lies no exception when it comes to loving from the heart. Until we die to ourselves, we will unfortunately not be able to truly love the way Jesus loves.

The carnal heart has boundaries and choke points when it comes to unconditional love and only through the becoming like Jesus will we truly love the way that He loves.

This has undoubtedly been the most challenging part of my journey.

Being mentally, physically and spiritually abused as a young boy, my love was ripped away from me at a very critical time of my early development. I am convinced that is a part of the diabolical plan of satan to deposit and establish a paramount degree of fear in adolescents that will literally destroy the emerging adult.

I was no exception as a result of the shackles that were placed on me, I never had a clue of what unconditional love looked like? All I knew was fear and rejection. I was terrorized at the mere thought of someone liking me or wanting to be in relationship with me. I had convinced myself that if a friendship or relationship would ensue, that right away, the countdown had begun. It was on borrowed time. It was just a matter of time that the hourglass would completely transfer and I would no longer be wanted in the relationship. So, I made it my mission to sabotage every relationship shortly after its inception. It was the only way I knew to survive.

“I must destroy the relationship and be the first to reject because I know that I will be eventually rejected”. I lived in terror, just waiting for the hammer to drop.

Somehow, I was able to convince myself that this would ease the pain, and as long as I was the one in control, there would be less shrapnel to dig out, allowing me to entertain the illusion that I remained on top.

These consistent, perpetual patterns in my life laid the foundation for the borderline pathological narcissist that was developing in the petri-dish.

I learned and mastered the “art”, of manipulation, deflection, projection, rejection, gas lighting, which swung the pendulum from any form of unconditional love to a place on the other side, that I can only describe as a cesspool of brokenness, shame, self-pity, self-loathing, hate, pride, arrogance and a host of other really nasty human characteristics.

Oh , did I fail to mention that this was all happening while I was either on the mission field, Pastoring a church, leading groups, raising babies and “doing the stuff” as the late John Wimber defines it.

There are so many more brush strokes that I could add to this painting but instead I prefer to place the emphasis on loving from the heart and how that transition, transformation or metamorphosis, if you will began to take shape and develop my life.

I continued in this cycle of death for about 15 years into my marriage, and only by the grace of God did my wife not leave me or relegate me to the scrap heap. She instead laid down boundaries that General Patton, himself would be proud of!

Each time that I breached one of these boundaries, depending on what it was, would determine the action that she would take. On most occasions it was packing her bag and leaving until I changed my behavior to include without fail, a sincere genuine display of Godly sorrow, remorse, apology for my specific infraction, and recognition of how my abuse adversely affected her and the children. And there was no pulling the wool over her eyes.

She became an expert at dealing with the narcissist spirit, and it took me losing my shit to even examine the threshold that would turn the tables for me as I slowly realized I was losing control of her mind.

What she never did, was stop loving me, caring for me and fighting for my freedom.

As she reached new levels of freedom, she had more empathy for me. Those closest to her encouraged her to leave me and by all accounts she had every right to do so as a result of my constant abuse and empty promises to get help.

“how can I throw away this man, although through his abuse and mental instability helped shape and form the woman I am today?”

This was her response, and when these molecules reached my ears and marrow of my bone it was like a hydrogen bomb that shattered the strongest link in the chains that held me prisoner. It was the antidote that my heart needed.

In all honesty, her taking that stance brought me face to face with Jesus. I was completely undone as I saw him through her eyes.

No one could love like this aside from Jesus and that kindness immediately paved the road for a repentance that I only read about in books and perhaps witnessed maybe a handful of times on my journey.

She was blessed with the ability to capture that kind of love, because as a result she did not leave me nor forsake me, ever. I had been the “tool”, the catalyst to her learning and mastering the art of living with a narcissist but not allowing me to exert any of his tactics, get a foothold, abuse and control of the relationship.

She loved me to life through the power of perfect love.

She learned to work closely with Holy Spirit and was given access to the blueprint and strategies on “how to love me from a distance”, when necessary, while still maintaining and promoting unconditional love.

The enemy of my soul would not rest until he completely and utterly destroyed my life, my marriage, my children and I was hanging on by a thread. But Thank God, it was a “thread of truth.” One that just needed someone that was willing to love me with a love “as unyielding as the grave.” This kind of love is what fashioned a three strand cord.

This love found me through the heart of one who had truly traded in her stony heart , for a heart of flesh, and resisted every attempt from the enemy to take back what was freely given to her. She in turn, followed the owner’s manual which resulted in me coming to my senses and learning to love from my heart and not my head.

In the words of John Mayer, and John Lennon, “I’m in repair, I’m not together but I’m getting there”,

I forge ahead, knowing that I love better today than I did yesterday.

And “it’s getting better all the time.”

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Tagsnarcissism, recovery, Robert coella

By Samantha Waters

A unique perspective on the world from a small town girl turned big city nurse. Now a grandmother to 4 gregarious, resplendent boys and 3 endearing, magical girls, she strives the make the world a more understanding, pleasant place to experience this intense thing called life.View Archive →

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Run the Dishwasher Twice

When living becomes a struggle- by Addict to Athlete

I had saved this post before Thanksgiving last year, when life felt overwhelming; when I, too, struggled with where to even begin in talking with my counselor.

It’s from a local non- profit who works with addicted people and their families. The idea that “you’re not supposed to run the dishwasher twice” and every other pre-conceived notion of society that bogs us down to keep us in some sort of expectational nightmare; needs to be washed out of our hair.

Just like the the old jingle commercial:

🎶”I’m gonna wash that gray right outta my hair”.🎶

I thought it might be helpful now with whatever is draining your energy that makes even the simplest tasks seem huge.

The Holidays are not always happy for those who have lost a loved one or friend to overdose. They are also extremely hard if you have a child, friend or loved one in active addiction or struggling with depression. And remember sometimes you’ve just gotta run the dishwasher twice.
When I was at one of my lowest (mental) points in life, I couldn’t get out of bed some days. I had no energy or motivation and was barely getting by.
I had therapy once per week, and on this particular week I didn’t have much to ‘bring’ to the session. He asked how my week was and I really had nothing to say.
“What are you struggling with?” he asked.
I gestured around me and said “I dunno man. Life.”
Not satisfied with my answer, he said “No, what exactly are you worried about right now? What feels overwhelming? When you go home after this session, what issue will be staring at you”?
I knew the answer, but it was so ridiculous that I didn’t want to say it. I wanted to have something more substantial.Something more profound. But I didn’t.
So I told him, “Honestly? The dishes. It’s stupid, I know, but the more I look at them the more I CAN’T do them because I’ll have to scrub them before I put them in the dishwasher, because the dishwasher sucks, and I just can’t stand and scrub the dishes.” I felt like an idiot even saying it.
What kind of grown ass woman is undone by a stack of dishes? There are people out there with actual problems, and I’m whining to my therapist about dishes?
But he nodded in understanding and then said:
“Run the dishwasher twice.”
I began to tell him that you’re not supposed to, but he stopped me.
“Why the hell aren’t you supposed to? If you don’t want to scrub the dishes and your dishwasher sucks, run it twice. Run it three times, who cares?! Rules do not exist.”
It blew my mind in a way that I don’t think I can properly express.
That day, I went home and tossed my smelly dishes haphazardly into the dishwasher and ran it three times. I felt like I had conquered a dragon. The next day, I took a shower lying down.
A few days later. I folded my laundry and put them wherever the hell they fit. There were no longer arbitrary rules I had to follow it gave me the freedom to make accomplishments again.
Now that I’m in a healthier place, I rinse off my dishes and put them in the dishwasher properly. I shower standing up. I sort my laundry.
But at a time when living was a struggle instead of a blessing, I learned an incredibly important lesson: There are no rules. Run the dishwasher twice. Credit: Kate Scott (Quora)

Original post can be seen on addict to athlete Instagram. Or on their Facebook page.

4 Minutes of Calmness

I had such a RaDICaL breakthrough today that I had to share.

Yesterday I had a coworker spend an hour telling me how wrong I was & how I needed to do something better… for HER & how irrational I was & why her way was right.

I remained calm trying to approach the problem from several different angles.

Until finally, she blurted out:

“Well, I’ve already talked to the boss & he wants it done this way……”

Wow..
I went home feeling completely undermined, sideswiped-whatever you want to call it.

I was determined to go to the boss armed with data to show how she was just being a bully in order to be right and how if only he had my opinion, then he would surely side with me.

Then, I listened to this 4 minutes of calmness from my favorite (and only) spiritual guru- Matt Kahn.

This guy doesn’t resonate with everyone, but he’s my ‘thing’ that saved my heart a few years ago after a breakup of 3 years. Ever since, he has helped me dig deeper to find out who I am and who I want to be.

“This is HOW PEOPLE GIVE US BACK our POWER- by disappointing the HELL outta us….”
-Matt Kahn

Think about it. If life is going my way, I can love myself just fine, but the minute adversity hits me in the gut, I’m going to walk around blaming someone else. THEY are going to pay for my inconvenience, my pain and suffering.

I’m ready and willing to blame anyone but myself- for triggering me. I mean, I was just here minding my own business! I didn’t start it! (Like a 5-year-old would say).

As I chose to ruminate on it; I started thinking, “I’ll just quit. I can’t stand her anyway”.

Then a voice said:

“ᗷᑌT TᕼEᖇE’S OTᕼEᖇS ᒪIKE ᕼEᖇ EᐯEᖇYᗯᕼEᖇE….”

In my past relationships, if a guy isn’t doing what I think he should be saying or doing, what do I do? Speak my peace or speak my piece? What happens if I do the latter? Collusion. He’s not going to change. I will keep attracting men who will collude with my ideas until I make peace with myself.

Another variant to this is:

If we aren’t giving ourselves the acceptance & love we need, we are more likely to seek out drugs or sex or power or people who trigger us- (Which will ALWAYS disappoint us again & again).

These experiences are for our benefit, in order to bring us back to ourselves.

If we never experience disappointment, sorrow and loss; then we never get the opportunity to grow into a better version of ourselves.

It’s so simple.

I never fully caught on to the love yourself movement until I heard this from Matt Kahn.

Adversity doesn’t stop when we move to a different place or switch partners or jobs. Things will still smack us right dab in the face until we become aligned enough. Alligned with ourselves or with the universe or our God or Higher Power.

This helps us essentially become bulletproof to letting these traumas and dramas knock us around so much.

Some may call it the Armour of God. Others may say Self-confidence, Self- worth.

Take a listen.

Minute 17:30-21:30

Hope Floats- in The Desert

Photo by author

I squeezed the foam earplugs between my fingers and stuffed them into my ear, leaning my flushed, tired face against the cool airplane window in relief.

As the foam expanded, the sounds of the chattering women behind me slowly faded- thankfully. I wanted silence.

I watched the snow-covered tips of the Oquirrh Mountains get smaller and smaller.

I was headed to Phoenix for a much-needed reprieve/retreat with a group of Moms of children with substance use disorders.

The thought crossed my mind of what I would say if someone asked me where I was headed.

I mean it’s not exactly a proud moment like it would be if I said, “Oh, I’m going to an event for Moms of sterling scholar students.”

If I were going to a childhood cancer retreat, it would likely be met with support and sympathy.

As it is, I usually just say “vacation” if I’m doing anything substance use-related.
Of course, times are changing a little. When vulnerability is exposed in the right circumstances, you will immediately find “someone who knows someone” with substance use disorder.

Some social media recovery Influencers -who reach a lot of people, are helping with their memes on understanding addiction; but the service they deliver is misleading at times.

What others think is not my concern right now. I am in survival mode, hoping to advance to Thrive-mode soon.

Photo by author

As I landed at the Pheonix airport, I was met with several flashing billboards advertising a casino or similar:

“Reclaim what is rightfully yours-You do you!”

Wow, YES!!

That’s what I needed!
I needed to reclaim my peace, my sanity, my sense of direction!

I wanted to feel empowered in my co-dependency so that it turned to healthy pro- dependence, just like the book of a similar name.

I wanted relief from my emotions being based on someone else’s actions that I obviously couldn’t control.

I wanted to feel joy again even as my son is still deep in his addiction having lost everything he worked so hard for.

I wanted to stop this suffocating feeling of disappointment and pain that HE must be feeling.

I wanted to not care so much, or at least act like I didn’t care so much.

I wanted my little family back. I wanted my youngest son to UN- Disown me for “helping the tweaker”. I wanted our family to go on trips and have loud funny parties without there being an elephant in the room. I wanted to be able to talk about my oldest son without tip-toeing on eggshells.

To say his name again.

To say it with relief and admiration at what he’s overcome.
To just be free of the chains of addiction that not only grab the victim but also everyone who loves and knows them.

Yes, I know that’s a lot to expect from one conference or one weekend.

But it’s a start. It’s moving forward.

It’s meeting women that all have something in common. People who you don’t have to hide your situation from. People who you don’t have to bite your lip or hold back your tears when they talk about how well their kids are doing.

Ah yes.
Sun, water, fresh air, bunnies, quails, even cacti were my heaven this weekend.

Photo by author

The logistics of traveling and inconveniences of housing with no hot water didn’t stop me from sucking in every ounce of strength and wisdom from these women.

Don’t be fooled by broken hearts and contrite spirits. They can do wonders with grief and pain. These women taught me perseverance, grace, love, and faith in the unknown.

Women from all areas of America, from different faiths-and at least ONE with no faith- came together and worshipped in their way, to thank God and accept and honor his will with grace.
Women who have lost a child to substance use, taught ME about hope. How could that be? How could someone who has experienced every mom’s worst nightmare teach about HOPE?

With grace and God’s help, that’s how.
People who have the worst pasts often end up with the greatest futures.

As my weekend ended and I said goodbye to these ladies, the most often phrase was “Let’s keep in touch”.
With social media these days, that’s easy to do. But the reality is, we will all go home to our situations. We will cry and yell and dream and hope. We will feel alone and forsaken at times.

It’s up to each person to find their peace, no matter what they are facing.

As I was leaving, one of the younger ladies, who I felt such a pull to- for her faith and talent; pulled me aside with a piece of paper and said, “I’ve been praying for you and I came up with the color green and the flower lily because I think your heart is PURE and I love you.”

I rushed away, through the 5 hours of security, flying, ubering, and made it to my neighborhood. As I trudged up the driveway, tired and worn out, I looked down at my flower beds lying bare in the cold dirt. There amid such brown barrenness, I see the Green tips of my spring Lilys and tulips braving through the frozen ground.

Hope eternal.

Blessed are the pure in heart. (& we ALL are pure on heart).
Thank you, Brianna.
And God.

Photo by Tonyevans.org

Carry Yourself Darling

No, no one said that to me. What they really said was:

“What exactly is your deal?

You look like you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders…..

I mean it can’t be THAT bad……

Just tell whoever’s bothering you to go away…..

Have you gained weight?
You look….different…..

Your hair….. it’s so thin….”

And what I’d like to say back is:

“Do you know what’s it’s like to wake up and not dare look at your phone for a missed call?

“THE CALL?”

Do you know what’s it’s like to fix coffee & breakfast when you know your son has lost over 100 lbs and probably hasn’t eaten since a week ago when you sent him a hamburger while he was stranded in Vegas because his “friends” got arrested?

Do you know what’s it like to struggle with the simple choice of getting your son a $54 hotel room until morning when the bus leaves to take him home?

Do you know the reason you struggle with it is due to the risk of having the hotel call you and say there are loud people in the room and now a dog and now it’s a $450 cleaning fee added to your credit card.?

Do you know what’s it’s like to have your son say security keeps escorting him out because he stinks & isn’t gambling and only has one shoe on?

Then have him say that he can’t stay outside for longer than 10 minutes or his fingers go numb?

Do you know what’s it’s like to finally convince him to Uber to the homeless shelter only to have him send a picture saying it was closed & he was running from some guys who jumped him?

30 long minutes of imagining my boy being beat & stabbed in the darkness of Vegas’s back street while trying to get the Uber driver to go back?

Then ubering him to the shuttle to which he didn’t make the 6 am run.

Then, Suddenly he texts his ex-wife that he loves her and isn’t going to make it because he can’t move, his lips are blue and has no where to go and no shoes to get there.

Do you know the feeling of your son being in a large city somewhere between the Uber dropoff and a slow cold death?

21 phone calls made to resources throughout the night, hundreds of texts begging for help, 3 Uber rides, a missing person report after 30 minutes of trying to call 911 into a different state…..

And a quick suitcase pack to drive the 6 hours to possibly identify my firstborn son’s body.😭

4 hrs later an airport security policeman calls and said: “He can’t sleep here, he needs to get on the shuttle or leave…..”

Relief.
Anger.
Sorrow.
Sadness.

Naranon go-ers would cringe.

“Go to bed they say.
Give it to God. ” They say with pierced lips…..

But they’re not me.
And my son is not theirs.

So I look at the rising sun, and I drag myself to the shower to actually start my day…….

So you see dear co- worker…..
I may not look like I came from a spa, but I surely just climbed out of hell and I’m damn lucky to have shoes on………

My very first article….published on Elephant journal

Read 4 comments and reply

Samantha Waters | Contribution: 705

RELEPHANT READS:

Elephant isn’t just a big web site.

& Money Woes of addiction- with guest post by Andi Miana of Romania

Guest blog by Robert Coello

From the Head to the Heart

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By Samantha Waters

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