Category: Hope in Addiction

To the Ends of The Earth

If you haven’t had the distinct opportunity to call the coroner’s office to look for your child you may not resonate with this post.

If you haven’t called the ER of 11 different hospitals at 3 am asking for a John or Jane doe, then you may think I’m a bit crazy.

Then calling again in the morning to get the main hospital to see if they were admitted without ID. Then realizing that they might have his name and ID but he’s still comatose so you call them all back and give his name.

10 of them say he’s not there. 1 says they can’t confirm or deny that he’s there, which makes me think he is there.

This is all because of a little green dot on messenger.

As I watched the countdown of his ‘last time online’ tick further and further away, my panic grew. My son was on messenger almost all the time. When he wasn’t, it was only for 6-8 hrs. When it hits 15, I panic. I text his friend to get hold of him. Usually this works within an hour or two. But not this time.

You would think my son is 16, 17 or 18 years old. No, he’s 36. When addiction is involved age doesn’t matter because the drugs affect the same area of the brain including the basal ganglia, extended amygdala and the prefrontal cortex.

NIH.Gov

Whatever the age, they are going to bypass rational thinking, time management & empathy for others. 

The prefrontal cortex is located at the very front of the brain, over the eyes, and is responsible for complex cognitive processes described as “executive function.” Executive function is the ability to organize thoughts and activities, prioritize tasks, manage time, make decisions, and regulate one's actions, emotions, and impulses.- Source

I have to laugh when I see this meme:

Grow Up? What study has ever said that addiction is just from being immature?

The term “Grow up” feels like shaming, or “throwing shade” on an already convoluted and insidious situation. It’s either a brain disease that affects the areas of reasoning, managing problem-solving, planning, and decision-making abilities-
Or they’re just being immature and need to grow up?


Not one scholarly or medical article ever says they need to just grow up.

They need healing, yes so they can make more responsible choices but I don’t see how telling them to grow up is helpful at all.😥

It’s very frustrating loving an addict. In fact, I would dare say it’s a love-hate relationship. During the moments of thinking they are actually gone from this earth, wave after wave of emotions hit: guilt, sorrow, sadness, bargaining. You will do anything to be able to rephrase your last words to them. You beg God for another chance. Then, the minute they are suddenly “alive”, after the relief, of course, the anger hits.

It’s called unconventional grief.

Why is this happening again? Why does he just disappear for 2 days then offer a “sorry, I’m ok…..my phone” or some random excuse.

In this case, my son is running from warrants again. But these warrants are for charges they pulled up from a year ago – AFTER he spent 90 days in jail and 57 in rehab. He had only been out 2 weeks when I received a junk offer from lawyers who scout new charges. Otherwise we would have never known he’s been charged.

It was 2 days before Christmas and with that one letter my son lost all progress from the last year including any hope of recovery this time. He said:

“Mom they are never going to let me have a normal life. They want me to stay in the system forever”.

All the momentum he had built and the plans he made were swiped away with the threats of indictment. For having a disease that he couldn’t control.

He ran to Vegas because they were running his license plate every other day when they spotted him. First he wanted to fight it. He wanted me to help him get a lawyer. But then, the evil claws of addiction and that horrible town sucked him into the black hole again. He is hustling who knows what, with who knows who and no longer communicating like we were.

I am devastated, scared beyond belief. He’s facing years in prison with these old charges. But beyond that, I fully expect to have to do a funeral with these Vegas odds bearing down on him.

Today someone asked me “How is your son?” This NEVER happens. No one speaks his name in my family or otherwise. But then they went on: “I was thinking about him in church yesterday as they were discussing tough love, co- dependency, versus desperation to help a child we love so much.”

My heart sank. Here we go again. The “let him go” crowd. People who have lots of ideas about how to handle a situation that they’ve probably never been in.

I just can’t today.

How to say, “he’s dying! He truly is dying! He’s sinking into a black hole of isolation, crime and addiction into the under belly of an evil town!”, without sounding like the “co-dependent, desperate mom” that so many love to label. 

This is a human soul. 
This a man who was loved by so many. This man helped many many people when he had the means to, and now he is "worthless" because he has nothing to offer. No I will not jump on the bandwagon of "let him fall, let him fail, let him "figure it out". I won't be tossing him aside until he can perform to my expectations. I will stand in the gap between good and evil and I will fight for my son. His life matters. Whether he's struggling or " doing well", his life matters & Yes, I will go to the ends of the earth for him.

Today I will continue to pray for a miracle. I will speak life into this situation. I will pray for the funds to appear to hire Las Vegas extreme interventions, because my son is in extreme danger. It is a fight for his life at this point. He is out of control and obviously unable to pull himself out again.

I respond to the question: “He’s still struggling” and let it go at that.

Unhoused

I don’t know where I found the following words, but I love the whole concept. It’s so telling of why that person on the corner can’t just “get a job”. There are so many steps to getting a job that requires emotional and physical availability. We take for granted that we can sit and choose what clothes to wear or that everything we need is right where we left it in our house. Yet we can look at someone and wonder “Why don’t they just……. “

There are many many reasons why they “don’t just….” The minute we place a label or opinion on someone else, it takes us to a place of judgement where it creates disdain or detachment. When we are operating from that place, we can’t be loving and helpful.

I talk about this judgement here in a previous blog.

Anger does the same thing. If we become angry at a situation- to the point of obsessive ongoing rage- it separates us from the solution, because we are so drawn into our victimhood.

Staying in that place only leads to further disempowerment.

The following saying is true:

Even if we aren’t the ones that necessarily created the situation, we are the ones that create the emotion around it.

To move past a situation, you have to be out of the intense emotion that the situation is causing. You can’t show love while angry. You can’t show compassion if you are disgusted. And likewise, the struggling person can’t just see a solution until he feels safe in other areas to move to that level.

I read this on an Addicts fighting addiction site:

“Ever been to the trap houses? Ever sat down with the “dirty trashy addicts” and tried to figure out how they got there? I have. How many addicts have had all their shit stolen? If you have no ID you can’t get an ID. If you have no shower or clean clothes then how TF do you get a job? If you haven’t eaten in a week or two and you have no job and no ID then how do you buy food? Do you know that a bag of meth costs just as much as a meal at McDonald’s? And that McDonald’s is gonna go thru your system and your gonna be hungry again in a few hrs. That bag of meth is gonna block the hunger pains for at least a day.

Do you know that to enter a rehab you can’t talk to your family for at least a week, you can’t smoke and you can have no caffeine? So basically your withdrawing from everything your system knows all while being completely isolated and probably locked up with ppl that you dont like or that make you uncomfortable. Now let’s talk about what can be done. Let’s create some sort of liason with social security and vital statistics so these ppl can get an ID. They cant get a job or a room or visit the food pantries without it. Y’all mock the crazy lady with the shovel walking around in her underwear. She was trying to make money while everyone mocked her. Ever been exposed to the elements 24 hrs a day.

Ever been hungry, cold, or roasting hot for more than a few hours. These ppl are stronger than you think. I’ve sat in trap houses and watched meth heads paint pictures Picasso would envy. Ive watched young ppl blow the most beautiful glass bubbles with nothing but a blow torch and their lips. I’ve seen ppl buy speakers for $20 and flip em for $150. I’ve met singers, and dancers, and poets that wrote sonnets so deep your heart cries. But instead of tapping into that energy and talent we mock it cuz we don’t know what it’s like to live that life. We didn’t always have houses and electricity and wifi. These ppl survive how they can and who TF are we to say they can’t sleep next to a river that belongs not to us but to the universe. Don’t like the mess? Cool, create fire pits, put a few trash cans out and some needle disposal boxes. How about we fund a few heads along the river instead of huge useless round abouts. And how about for community service we make these bad ass kids go out on the weekends and clean up the riverbanks. They want this gang shit- ok let’s give em chain gangs and maybe in the meantime they can get a lil taste of the hard life. Prison is nothing compared to the life these ppl live. Prison provides 3 meals(starchy), healthcare(crappy), temperature regulation(sometimes), work programs(legal slavery), education(GED), and tv($300 & it ain’t flat). The homeless have access to none. Stop complaining and get your boujee out from behind the damn screens and talk to ppl. Buy em a cup of coffee, offer them a tampon, some deodorant or a Change of clothes and show them you care. Even if you can’t save them you’ve showed them that they are worth it and loved and that’s what the world needs more of. I’ve once lead a life where I thought all hope was lost. No one is better than anyone else. We are equal. The stuff we go through may be different, or maybe your problems aren’t visible to others but everyone has something.
The Lord said Love your neighbor as you do yourself.
Which is hard to do.
Satan said careless, walk on, Lie on, Hurt, Let die, Worthless, and Hate.
Which is easy.
???
Why because it’s so true.”- Unknown

Death

Death is so final


Some say it’s just a transition
Nothing to mourn really:

If you could see the whole picture you be would be sooo at peace with the journey & what’s needed to achieve that experience

But we can’t see the whole picture
We only know our own hearts & our own pain

And that pain carries through the years.
Affecting our thoughts and actions down the line.

Those who haven’t experienced deep loss (or gave themselves permission to feel it) don’t understand.

Or they’ve hardened themselves.

Or covered up the pain with other things.

But it will eventually seep thru
In an old song
Or a fragrance
Revisiting a place
& It all comes back

Among the chaos of life
You can’t help but remember The kind words spoken, or a gift they gave you

Or the pain in their eyes.

That you would give anything now to go back to & stop

But you can’t. So you make peace the best you know how…

By honoring their name & memory
& Remembering the good they’ve done
The many lives they’ve touched

That’s how our loved ones live on…💙💔⛅

Why Don’t They Just Quit?

Aww yes, the million dollar question.

Many many studies and opinions around this question of course.

One of the most long standing resources with the same name is from Joe Herzanek of The changing lives foundation.

Here’s some other Interesting facts that help us to understand why they don’t want to quit.

I didn’t write this but I actually have my son on audio saying this exact same premise.

It’s one of many audio recordings I have of him, that I put in my upcoming book 1000 Last Goodbyes.

“If you can think of the happiest days of your life, i.e. wedding day, birth of your firstborn, landing your dream job, etc. your dopamine level rises to about 200 units.
Methamphetamine’s powerful effects come from its impact on the brain’s reward, or pleasure, center. Meth does not directly release dopamine. It attaches itself to dopamine receptor sites and fools neurons into releasing large quantities of dopamine. This accounts for the intense rush a user experiences from meth.

“In addition, meth prevents dopamine from being recycled. Instead, dopamine is active in the body for much longer, explaining the extra long duration of the meth high. The drug does this by blocking (inhibiting) the dopamine transporter involved in its reabsorption (reuptake) into the original neuron that sent it. Transporters are places on neurons that reabsorb the dopamine after it has completed its job. As a result, more dopamine becomes available to the brain. This extra dopamine, in turn, activates an even greater number of dopamine receptors. This increased release of dopamine is primarily responsible for the intensity and duration of meth-amphetamine’s effects.

“In lab animal experiments conducted by UCLA’s Integrated Substance Abuse Program, sex caused dopamine levels to increase to 200 units and cocaine caused levels to rise to 350 units. With meth-amphetamine, dopamine levels jumped to about 1,250 units. Overall, this study showed that meth causes about 12 times as much feelings of pleasure as sex, food, and other activities, including the use of other illegal stimulant drugs. All illegal drugs of abuse release dopamine, but that methamphetamine “produces the mother of all dopamine releases.” So, when an addict stops using nothing seems right, life seems dull and gray. Meth is a beast but I do know addicts who fought hard and got free of it”.

I wrote about Dopamine in This post last year and The tempest explains it well in this article.

Until they are ready to get help, we also have to be open to new thoughts of saving their life, such a harm reduction.Believe me, I never thought I would be saying those words until the last 6 months when I was met with the immensely stubborn, deeply hijacked version of my brilliant, driven entrepreneur son.

This is a great video on Harm reduction with Dee Dee Stout who wrote a book Coming to Harm Reduction Kicking and Screaming- which I can relate! She also writes a blog for Families for Sensible Drug Policies an organization with tons of resources.

Harm reduction is an entire blog in itself so I’ll save that for later but the important thing is it BUYS TIME until they can decide to seek recovery. My bottom line that helped me see harm reduction as a necessity is when I witnessed my son in full withdrawals thrashing around in the back seat of my car. He was begging me to take him to get drugs just to stop him from this torture. I said (yelled) to him “Good hell! Is this not enough to get you to stop? How can you be this sick & not want to ever experience it again?”. He told me, “Mom, this is nothing- try lying in a drug house so sick you can’t move or walk and begging people there to help you- either with drugs or take you to the hospital while they laugh saying -no way dude, we’re not getting arrested”……

I realized in that moment that if he had a needle covered in swamp water or ‘anything’ it would NOT HAVE STOPPED him from plunging it into his arm for relief.

An addict is NOT going to suddenly stop using because they don’t have clean needles. Clean needles WILL however prevent further pain & suffering by avoiding the added disease of hepatitis and Aids.

We have to keep pointing them to recovery! A whole new life is right there waiting for them”.

Making demands of certain recovery methods or outright denying them clean needles or narcan or food, in most cases; will not make them change their mind that very second, that very day. Harm reduction and life-saving measures give people time to recover.

I have a large collection of recovery quotes (over 200) on my Facebook profile under photos- We Do Recover album . I love to share.

Scapegoating in Addiction

I’m not a therapist and I am NOT making excuses for the adverse and defiant behavior that typically manifests in addiction.

What I have noticed is that no matter what kind of dysfunction was present in families before addiction presented itself in one or more members, suddenly the addiction takes center stage of everything that has ever happened or went wrong in the family. By this I mean suddenly all- things- bad are the fault of the person suffering with addiction. All the other family members personality traits or domineering styles of communication are forgotten and no matter what the scenario, they are innocent.

Now, trust me, I adamantly believe that people, especially Mom’s, don’t need or deserve ANY more guilt placed on them. They already question what they did wrong and mull over mistakes made in child rearing or things said wrong during the addiction. But we must realize that everyone has unique personalities that contribute to an argument and to the family dynamic. Of course we can’t drill a mom with questions of “are you a controlling person or do you tend to meddle in others’ business?” That would be rude and besides, usually, people are not self-aware enough to know how they come across or that they have certain faults or behaviors that may be obvious and well-known to others, but how would you ever tell someone those things? And besides, it IS all perception anyway.

It may not even be the Mom who has some trait that is triggering or hard to deal with. It might be a domineering dad, or a judgmental aunt who looks down her nose and can’t ever be pleased.

I could give very personal examples but I won’t here. Just know that many different types of people take the fall for a family dynamic- it’s not just the addict. For instance the youngest child might get blamed for a lot. You can watch any family drama movie and pick out who’s going to be the fall guy whether he deserves it or not.

It’s easy to get on an addiction support site and participate in the addict- bashing and complaining of everything wrong in our lives due to the addiction.

That’s what support is for- to vent & get validation. But for every one of those loved ones with addiction there’s 5, 10, 15 different people in the family that have all different personalities and expectations that contribute in some way to how the addict deals with stress. All these expectations and demands can be daunting in a normal healthy brain, let alone one in addiction or early recovery.

Just keep an open mind when you are presented with opinions and statements of “their addiction ruined the whole family”.

Can you imagine the shame and humiliation that would feel like? To know you are responsible for everyone’s happiness in the family…possibly even extended family!

What a horrible reality to come out of the darkened loneliness that addiction brings only to feel that you can’t be one bit human and screw up what every single person expects from you. Recovery is difficult enough in and of itself.

There is no doubt that addiction is ugly and messy and ends up affecting Everyone. I’m not giving the addict a free pass here at all. I’m just asking for us to remember certain things before addiction. I have kept copious journals over the years or I would not remember a tenth of what I wrote down! It’s very helpful to read how people interacted and treated each other 10, even 20 years previously.

I found this article by Sarah Swenson from Good Therapy interesting and I have received permission to share.

If only they would stop using.

This seems to become the family mantra but I can guarantee that stopping using doesn’t fix all the family dynamics that were there before the addiction even reared its ugly head.

The Blameless Burden: Scapegoating in Dysfunctional Families

Person in gray skirt suit stands under spotlight, head bowed, in red-toned room

In biblical lore, Aaron selected a goat on behalf of the entire tribe, cast upon it the sins of all members, and then banished it alone to the wild. The members of the tribe were then at great ease, having been freed from their cast-off sins—whatever those sins may have been.

Everyone felt better, though they had neither identified their specific sins nor atoned for them. They had simply agreed to hang them on the goat. If this spurious logic was obvious to anyone, it was not discussed. Why question an agreed-upon means of making everyone feel better?

Now about that goat. It was selected from the herd and sent forth into the wilderness for reasons having to do with the sins of others. The goat had done nothing to merit banishment. But once the ashes were cold on the rituals of dispatching it, the goat found itself alone in the wilderness, isolated from its herd, in unknown territory, suddenly forced to fend for itself. It faced dangers from predators; difficulty finding food, sustenance, and shelter; and it lived the constantly woeful insecurity of a herd animal without a herd.

This is the story of the scapegoat.

In dysfunctional families, for reasons similar to those Aaron devised, there can also be a designated person selected for the role of scapegoat. In a family system, the selection process is less overt than Aaron’s. It is done more by consensual and habitual shunning that becomes an unspoken code of behavior: one person is chosen to bear the brunt of any psychological discomfort experienced by the family as a whole. It is justified by repeating the stories that create and then reinforce the image of the scapegoat as being a person who is worthy of disdain and disparagement.

Like the strong goat Aaron selected, the target of family scapegoating is also often the strongest and healthiest member of the family. At first blush, this may sound counterintuitive. But think about it a little more. In Aaron’s case, there would be no group pleasure derived from banishing a weak animal who might easily die anyway, because that would not gratify the needs of the tribe to send off their sins on a robust vehicle, a strong goat who was up to the task of bearing the burden. So it is in families: the targeted individual is often the most accomplished. She—and for the purposes of narrative cohesion, our scapegoat is a female here—must be strong enough to withstand the weight of the shunning voices which might easily and quickly topple a weaker person. The scapegoating would fail if the weight of the sins killed the goat before it could even get chased out of town. Catharsis is the goal. The goat needs to be strong enough to suffer in order that the tribe members do not.

Just as the goat was blameless despite being sent to its lonely death, so is the human scapegoat innocent of all charges. She may not be a perfect human being, but she is no different from anyone else in her range of faults. It is not her character or her actions that have directly caused her banishment. It is the way her character and her actions, and often her accomplishments, have been experienced by the dysfunctional family members, who for their own unexamined reasons need to dispel this person from the family realm in order to avoid looking into their own consciences. They need to punish the scapegoat for provoking by her very existence the discomfort family members are feeling that is actually a result of their own unresolved issues.

If you are being scapegoated in your family, please seek professional help. You are not likely to be able to intervene in a dysfunctional system that treats one of its own members in this way. You may continue to experience the futile attempts at explaining yourself. You may fail to understand the way you are being treated. You may begin to doubt your own version of your life story. The price is too high.

Can a human scapegoat die like the goat of yore? Maybe. If not physically, certainly emotionally. It is difficult for the scapegoat to believe that her family would treat her in this unconscionable manner if she were not guilty of some grave sin. She wracks her brain and her heart to understand, but she cannot. The reasons she is given for being mistreated seem shallow, petty, and incomplete. It is difficult for her to believe these small transgressions could warrant such heavy condemnation.

She begins to doubt her own version of reality, since consensus in her own family supports a narrative different from her own about who she is and what she does or has done. She learns that if she tries to sort this out, she will be accused of “playing the victim” or being selfish, or being a “drama queen.” She is able to hold to her knowledge that this assessment and treatment are not right, until one day, utterly discouraged, she gives up. The full weight of the banishment settles upon her. She is alone. She doesn’t try to understand or explain anything anymore. She has moved into accepting a fate that makes no sense to her.

Good mental health at this point suggests she make her peace with leaving behind the family that fails her so completely. And if she is strong and well-supported with friends, she may be able to do this. She will pay a lifelong price for sins she did not commit, however, because it is difficult and painful to extract oneself from one’s family. It is counter to the most basic of human needs for home, shelter, affiliation. It is a cruel and inexcusable undertaking for a family to scapegoat a member.

If you look at the research regarding the fate of individuals who have been relentlessly bullied, you can draw conclusions about what happens to scapegoated family members, for scapegoating is bullying with focused and long-term intensity. Some bullied children go on to become bullies themselves. Some develop social skills to divert and challenge bullying, though the scars of having been bullied may insert themselves into their lives in many ways for many years to come. Others, however, do not survive, driven to suicide.

You were not born to bear the sins of others any more than Aaron’s goat was born for such a fate.© Copyright 2007 – 2022 GoodTherapy.org. All rights reserved.

The preceding article was solely written by the author named above. Any views and opinions expressed are not necessarily shared by GoodTherapy.org.

Quiet Suffering

I heard the squeak and the roar of the Monday morning trash pickup as it crept through the neighborhood. It was always a loud wake up call- on the dot-at 6:30 am. The brakes, the lifting of the cans, the dumping. Then the steady, beeping horn, signaling the truck’s reverse gear.

The air was thick with a cold January breeze- always threatening a new winter storm. This day, like so many others lately, was not a typical Monday morning grind day. This day was going to be a “mental health day” for me. Sounds wimpy, I know. But the reality is, over the last 2 years, I’ve had at least 2 a month sometimes up to 5. Yes, it hits hard on the budget, but I can’t seem to help it.

Emotional overload is a thing.

Some days, the emotional energy required to function outside of my ‘safe’ house is astronomical. The mental anguish that is like a not-so-silent black and white film- always running in the back of my head- is exhausting.

People who delight in telling me how horrible my son is,

Seem to think that they are giving me some new information that I’ve never thought of. Not that I think he’s horrible, nor will I ever entertain the “lets bash the black sheep drug addict” crowd by talking shizz about my 35 year old very lost, very in trouble, son.

What they don’t know is that the rolling script of everything that he’s done and continues to do, plays over and over in my mind constantly. The brief glimpses of sobriety and in- person interactions that I get with him always seem to be criticized that I do too much, or that I hang onto his every word, or that I have too much hope that he has really turned the corner.

They’re not wrong 

I DO do those things. I DO have too much faith sometimes. I do hang on his every word. Trying to figure out the chaotic mind of the person I birthed who still eludes all rational thought and reason.

I do those things because I know the time is limited. This moment shall pass. He is like trying to capture lightning in a bottle. Sometimes, in those brief moments I have physical eyes on him; I catch him staring off into the distance even as he rushing to get somewhere. I see his torment. His struggle. So many people want so many things from him that his {usually} unhealed brain can’t promise.

Yet he still does what he has always done:

Spin a great tale about this or that; starting another business, building tiny homes, or taking on the world of concrete again.

He wants to. I know he does. He wants to be known for his success again. He wants to be respected. He wants to be worthy of people’s ( family) time and attention. He was looking so forward to being able to see his kids again🥅

What I see that no one else sees, is his pain. His actions depict an uncaring addicted person who can’t get off the spinning wheel and who can’t seem to follow the legal requirements to break out of it’s grasp. But I see that all those things are an attempt to fix an internal problem. He hates when I say that. He won’t admit anything.

I’m not the textbook addict who has had trauma”

I can hear him saying it now.

But I hear it- maybe not trauma per say- but deep pain- in those moments of frustration, when he makes the call to me to vent. It’s not very often. It’s like a pattern of when he takes 2 steps forward, that are not enough, because it was supposed to be 3, so he falls back 5.

His anguish and fear and disappoint come through in those moments of realization that he will never be good enough or reach high enough for some- especially the legal system who now have brought up charges from 9 months ago.

To him, the goal is completely out of reach.

Why bother? Says the defeated unhealed brain.

Despite his pre-drug life of reaching every goal he worked day and night for; now his damaged brain and reward system can’t think that far ahead. He’s still in survival mode. When he was searching for jobs to re-enter the workforce, I caught a glimpse of the man afraid to fail. He casually mentioned that some of the jobs would be too much responsibility, too stressful for what he could manage in early recovery. I couldn’t believe it- after all his experience. But it was honesty. A brief glimpse into his vulnerability of failure.

He knew one thing he was good at. Hustling. And within a week of seeing the reality of his sobriety challenges including the “correctional system”; he was back doing what he does. Hustling and bustling. At first he was trying to get enough money to help himself and his kids. Then he realized it would never be enough and he was back into the life of isolating and hiding from warrants. Like a snap of the finger, he was gone.

So now, he’s a liar, I hear. Projection- that he never intended to do anything. Fulfilling the stigma of the drug addict who’s incapable of keeping his word.

The circle continues- shame- blame- hope- disappointment – failure.

We were all guilty………again. Of placing so much responsibility and expectations so soon onto a brain that was slowly trying to figure out life without the safe covering of substances to dull it. But we won’t be called out, because the addict is always the scapegoat now. For anything that goes wrong.

Steven Covey used to say:

“People are very tender, very sensitive inside. I don’t believe age or experience makes much difference. Inside, even within the most toughened and calloused exteriors, are the tender feelings and emotions of the heart.”

So yes. I’m aware of my sons failings and flailings. I was told that I should stop listening to what a drug addict tells me and that I should put my time and energy elsewhere.

Ok.

Let me turn off my mind and my heart.

But first I need a “sick day”.

A Monday morning mental health day.

Tomorrow hasn’t even begun and your chest is already tight and your heart is racing just thinking about this week.

I get it. It can be so easy feel trapped in a downward spiral when we begin to think about everything we have on our plates. All the things that could happen or go wrong. All the emotions that come with the unknowns.

But may I remind you, dear one, God has already been through this week. He knows what’s going to happen, it doesn’t surprise him. He knows when you will be anxious this week, and he’s already preparing you to fight that anxiety. He understands you are having a hard time trusting his goodness over life right now, and he is strengthening you by his Spirit.

Take a deep breath in.

Remind yourself of his perfect sovereignty.

Lift your eyes up to the heavens.

Speak his name as you let your breath out.

Allow yourself to be still.

It’s more of him and less of everything else you need to hear right now.

Feel your heart beating in your chest.

It’s already slowing down and your chest doesn’t feel quite so tight.

Do you feel that?

That’s the peace of the Holy Spirit that passes any kind of human understanding or reasoning. And it’s that same peace that will be ready for you every moment of this hard week ahead.

Grasp it tight, knowing it’s your saving grace.

Trust its strength, believing in its perfect power made strong in your weakness.

Believe fully, knowing just how loved you are and how freely this gift is given to you as a woman hidden in Christ.- From Blacktop to Dirt Road

Toughless Love

The heart that builds itself up to do the “tough love”,
Fails miserably over & over again…

The heart that swears to never enable again, walks past her son’s picture & breaks down into tears of what he must look like now…..
This Mom who melts into relief at seeing that green dot- of-life online today.

This Mom who is repeatedly told by a treatment industry that her child has a disease yet the cure is to let him sink until he is “forced” to get treatment. This is a ludicrous medical program. As a nurse I can’t help get confused.

In those moments; that some would call weakness; is a mom who loved this child for 8 1/2 months longer than his age…so 35 yrs.

And that’s ok, I don’t mind being called weak… because every day I get on the Mom groups and read of another heartbroken mother who got “The call”.

In those moments, I am filled with gratefulness that I have one more day, one more chance.
I never want my daughter to say to me, “God I just wish he’d pop on & ask for money just one more time”
Because if he’s gone he can’t ask for money… 😰

If he’s gone, we can’t hate him for having this disease,
If he’s gone we can’t get mad at the complete mess of chaos that his illness has brought into our little family & that his unwillingness to get help has caused even greater torment.

If he’s gone, I can’t have hope for a better tomorrow…

That tomorrow might be the day he asks for help…..

So I stay true to the current pain & inconvenience, holding what boundaries I can, & telling him every single day that I believe in him & love him.
💜💕💫💕💜

My sincere condolences to this who have lost their loved ones 💟

I Don’t Want to Sit by a Heroin Addict

These are the words I heard echo from a co-worker during a meeting today.  She was talking about a client who didn’t want to go to a place of business in case he had to sit by a heroin addict.

If I was financially independent, I would have stood up and said: (well- yelled), “There are worse things than being a heroin addict, like being intolerant of humans who’s sins show on the outside!”

But I’m not, so I didn’t.

As it is, I sat there in my silence of suffering as usual.

Michael J Wilson in his book Loving Lions describes the impact as this:

“I watch the impact that my addiction has, and it’s like watching a horror movie. You know something bad is going to happen and you want to yell at the person onscreen to not go into that basement, not to open that door, but they never hear you. The movie goes on and I am forced to watch, trapped within myself, unable to stop it. I feel helpless, I feel useless, and I feel worthless.”

Page 81, Loving Lions

Yes that. All of that.

I keep my struggle with my Lion seperate than other areas of my life. Or, I at least try.

Later on that day I was sending another patient to see a medical provider as scheduled, and she yells out to the other patients, “I’ll be back, I’m going to see the drug dealer!” Haha, everyone laughs, while my insides fall the 1000 feet that it took me to build them up again after the comment earlier this morning.

Drinking or joking about “needing” a glass of wine, is all fun and games until you see the first phone call from the jail knowing it’s your beloved child who not only had that glass of wine, but couldn’t stop at one.

Loving lions also describes their (the person with a substance use disorder) ( in-)ability to fix that problem too:

“I do not have the ability to fix a problem that has me convinced it does not exist. I am not capable of putting myself into the challenging recovery process that is required to get well. I am not capable of coming up with a plan to fix a problem I cannot see clearly. I am not capable of fixing this without help. I am not capable of pulling myself out of this hole. “

Which brings us to a crossroads and to the normal model of “a disease”. How do you help someone who’s very disease won’t let them believe they need help?

It’s like a pimp. Convinces his girls that they can’t live without him, even though HE is the problem, engaging them in illegal activities, lowering their quality of life, risking their health, their freedom etc.

Drugs are the biggest pimpmobile ever and I wish that caravan hadn’t stopped in my town.

Just to top my day off, this Day in The Life of a Mom of a person with a Substance Use Disorder; I see a “Story” pop up on my son’s Facebook. He is quite new at Facebook, having only had it the last year or two when his addiction seared to new “heights” so to speak; so I was curious that he figured out that feature.

Much to my shock, I saw a conversation that he accidently posted on there, which was “seemingly like a drug deal”. Unbelievable. I frantically tried to message him to delete it. No answer. I knew there were people on his Facebook that were not “real” friends and would look at that as “ah ha see? He’s still at it, what a loser” or whatever people think of addicts. No, I’m not trying to cushion his fall. He’s fell so hard the last 2 years there’s no cushion left.

I guess I’m just still a bit embarrassed of it all.

Shame and blame go right along with the agenda of addiction. For not only the addict, but the family.

My son finally answered my frantic messages. He said he doesn’t know how  that conversation got on a story or how to get it off. I hurriedly explained with detailed screenshots how to get it off. 

Then in true Nar-anon cringe worth fashion, I gave unsolicited advice & told him since he has warrants out, he probably should be more careful. He still insisted it wasn’t a drug deal.

Ok son.  Over and out. 10-4 to this day.  Another Day in the Life of a Mother of a person with a Substance Use Disorder.

How was your day?

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………