Tag: addiction

Happy Thanksgiving

I walked up to the counter at the convenience store with my drink to purchase. “Good morning! anything fun planned for today?” The cheery clerk said to me, his smile evident even under his big black mask. “He would have to ask today”. I thought.

I stammered and stalled a bit.

“No, not really”. I lied.

My stomach dropped in sadness. Sadness that I couldn’t actually say what I was doing.

Sadness that I couldn’t leap for joy and tell everyone what this day represented. Sadness that I couldn’t be happy and have everyone accept that happiness.

“Oh well, it’s probably for the best”. I thought as I walked out of the store. I need to conserve my energy for the day. I don’t need to waste it on explaining and justifying my happiness.

You see, I was on my way to rehab to pick up my son. The last few months had been a much-needed break from his addiction journey. This wasn’t a usual occurrence. Exactly 2 years ago to the day, he was headed to the airport to go to his first rehab in Kentucky. Two years ago this morning, we had a family intervention in the middle of a raging snowstorm. 2 years ago today, my son chose to not run away and go back to his life of drugs. He flew across the country with people he didn’t know and tried his best to battle his disease. His experience at that time lasted about 76 days. It was a miracle. And today is too.

Five weeks in jail, 2 months in rehab, all culminated to today. He was being released to sober living. With all the nervousness of the event, and the need to keep my excitement reined in; it was hard to feel relaxed and give thanks for it all. But I needed to. I just could not be attached to the outcome. I had done everything possible to help my son succeed. But the real work was on him. He’s the one that has to fight the demons. He’s the one that has to make responsible choices. He’s the one that can save himself. Not the store clerk. Not my family. Not me. I have to keep reminding myself that I’m not his sober coach, probation officer, or judge.

How to explain all this to the casual person? Impossible. Yet if I said “My son is graduating from the University”, it would need no explanation. It would just be wonderful. Congratulations would be thrown around like confetti. For a rehab graduation, I can just hear the tongue in cheek

“Well…. alrighty then- congratulations”. As if it’s an afterthought.

It’s ok though. Those other people don’t have to live in my head or love my family or pay my bills. In reality, I will probably never see that clerk again. What matters is that my people feel loved. That my God calms my fears.

It’s as-if he was gone away to the university anyway. I didn’t see him for 9 months then for 16 months. Four years of struggle and strife. Not being at family events. In and out of jail. Worry after worry. He received the degree. The degree of grit. Persistence – even if it was in the wrong arena, he still survived incredible odds. He deserves an award of:

‘Most Likely to Get in Over His head and Come out with Valuable Lessons to Share’-

From the college of real life addiction in every city, America.

The day turned out great, despite the condition of the old sober living we took him to. After trying to change it- but lacking the funds; and going shopping to get him some supplies, I dropped him off at the door. At the end of this momentous day- he said, “Mom, it’s ok, it’s better than running and hiding like I have been”. I made sure to compliment and encourage him. I was so proud. I sent him this text later:

I just want to tell you how amazing you are. 
You're my hero. For how resilient you are, yet so kind and caring  

None of this can be easy. Being tossed around & told what to do, but you are a champion. A warrior. 
I'm so grateful I get to be your mom and I'm grateful that I get to see you grow in this journey. ... I mean you are still the same old boy but I love that I have that back.
🖤💯🖤

Thankful By Choice

Every single day I have a choice. I can choose to see what I want to see.

Every day for over a year this truck parked directly in front of the door that goes into the elevators at my work. It was blocking the door for 💯’s of other people even when there are 💯’s of other parking spaces. Every day I would get irritated at why they couldn’t they see how far forward they were. None of the other 4 parking garage floors had a car in front of the door.

I even took pictures of it and would post them on my Facebook page to show how irritated I was. Now, 4 years later; it’s completely insignificant. In fact, it seems ridiculous that I wasted the energy on it.

I mean, It helps that I don’t have to walk by it everyday too. But I also have had much larger problems to deal with. When you start having to worry about life or death matters, things like trucks and material items don’t even compare.

These days, I have learned I can choose to notice how self-serving people are.

When an elevator door opens, the people waiting to get on immediately head in with no regard to those getting out- paying no attention to this “societal “rule. Then there’s traffic. Everyone just trying to meet their needs. In a fast and dangerous way- I might add.

The choice to be irritated all day long is ours. Or we can choose to give people the benefit of the doubt EVEN under “suspicion LOOKING circumstances”. Matt Kahn proposes that even if the things that bother you weren’t there you would still feel the same. Unless you resolve the internal discontent. It’s hard to imagine that getting what we want wouldn’t make us happy, but we see it over and over again. Celebrities, politicians. Even people we know. 

"If your life were any different, you'd feel exactly the same. This is the irony of life's eternal perfection. Once you no longer rely on outside circumstances, in order to feel good, or even require feeling good, in order to be relaxed and open, something far greater than the tracking of ups, downs, gains and losses awakens within you. This is the heart of awakening.-
Matt Kahn , Whatever Arises, Love That: A Love Revolution That Begins with You

We only have control of our own mind and reactions.

Things that are OUT of our control change can so quickly. We have a choice in these matters too but it should be easier in the other mundane, albeit irritating things.

It seems reasonable that the things that aren’t so much of a choice, such as a sick baby, or a job loss, or unexpected expensive car problems- are going to happen regardless.

This Thanksgiving week I’m going try to notice blessings. At least that person driving the truck and parking it to inconvenience others- doesn’t have car problems that day. At least they have a nice truck.

Or that those people walking into the elevator without letting others off- can walk that day. They are not stuck in a hospital learning how to walk again for whatever reason.

This week is HUGE for me anyway. 2 years of pleading, cajoling, begging, praying & hoping for is actually happening today. It should be a huge party. A celebration of life living and surviving. A pat on the back of beating one giant lap of this journey.

My son graduates rehab today. Its a huge feat. It’s not something that he has repeatedly done in his addiction experience, like some. This is only the second time. So it’s doubly, triply worth celebrating. Yet it feels on the outside like I can’t be happy.

The worry and stress out about what could go wrong. The living conditions he’s going into are worry some. The need to control his experience and do it my way. Or insisting that I know what’s best for another human. I get mad when someone else appears to know what I should do, yet I still want to control others thoughts and actions in order to make me feel better about the process.

I could continue these thoughts. I could join everyone else in not believing he can do it. I can participate in being nervous every second and judging every moment. Or, I can honor my son’s journey and give it to God. I can relish in the fact that I have had my son back for the last 3 months. In addiction, you can never get too comfortable. You have to just embrace every moment of positive interaction you can. I have even relished the negative moments because at least my son dares tell me his fears and struggles. He feels intense pressure to perform a perfect recovery. He feels financial pressure to pick up where he left off exactly 3 yrs ago. He has to show he can follow life’s rules again almost perfectly. This is with an insidious cunning disease that is never linear on his back always waiting to pounce.

Just for today, I’m going to enjoy and embrace my blessings. Just for today, I’m going to try to be an example of love. Just for today, I’m going to honor my fears along with everyone else’s.

Mind Habits

I know I’ve posted a lot about addiction being about ingrained habits/coping skills that make it difficult to break free from.

Daily habits are how we build a life we want. I am always noticing how habitual my every move is in my house, especially my night and morning routine.

We don’t realize the safety this routine provides us.

Those who don’t have the comfort of those rituals miss out on the benefits that they provide us in life.

As my son has been mostly unhoused and couch surfing the last 2 years, I have felt guilty at times in having the luxury of my safety rituals and habits.

Well-meaning people would say, he chose his life- you choose yours.
But that doesn’t mean I can just turn off my feelings.

It must be a mom thing.
We are nurturers.
Each time I leave a stressful workday and I’m in the comfort and safety of my car where I can completely relax from my day; I feel relieved- then sad, that my son doesn’t have that.

Yes, I know it’s the consequences of his actions- but that doesn’t stop a mom from feeling guilt, or sadness. We always want our row of ducklings doing ok and “in a row” and safe.

That’s why it’s such a mix of emotions when they are in jail. Yes, technically they are getting fed and have a bed; but the other traumatizing parts of jail are not conducive to healing.

The best part of the jail, in my opinion, is the daily routine and habits that they can start again. I think it helps get the brain back to sleeping at night and eating on time.

As recovery advocate-Michael Lasday states:

We cannot arrest our way out of this. We have to go way to the front end of why and how it starts, ( prevention of people WANTING) harm reduction in the middle and better & quicker treatment on the end. 

"Every increase in criminalization creates more scarcity, more demand, more reward and incentivized increasingly potent substances.

This is how we got here in the first place, not how we get out" -Mchael Lasday

I’m so grateful my son is out of there. But it’s still hard to not think (& worry) of the past and future. Each day is a gift.

The last 90 days have been an entire mountain of weight lifted off my shoulders. I have actually dared breathe. I have laughed at work and started looking at other people as real people again. I’m coming out of my Tunnel vision of turmoil. It felt good. Really good.

Then, just as my son is now experiencing, the realities of this life hit me.

He was so discouraged last night when he realized that others were still the same people as when he went into addiction.

He realized that he was the one expected to make all the changes and just get it right this time.

He realized that the bed he made for himself was still blaring bright white and being shoved down his throat. He was told by his old boss that he CAN’T even think of screwing up if he gives him another chance. My son said he feared he may never get to see his kids again just for gatekeeper reasons.

Do you know what pressure that puts on people? To start again with nothing. And not make any mistakes with a still-healing brain.

He will have to deal with it, I know. But my joy and gratefulness are being overshadowed by the realities of the world.

Depression and pain are real.

Having the stability and normalcy of the world was something I took for granted while I was fighting knee-deep in the arena of addiction.

Now that I have the garden hose out and washing off the muck, I see the world for what it has become.

I forge ahead not knowing if it’s really worth the effort only to be slammed down again.

The World seems so harsh.

Was I so buried in a different pain the last few years, that I didn’t see how harsh it was?

After my son’s first detox (at home). I remember showing him Chanda’s video about taking the drugs away leaving this raw core that doesn’t know how to deal with life without substances.
I think that’s where my son is at today.
And I feel oddly the same.

Even though I’ve never so much as smoked pot.

I still feel raw, afraid. Sad.

A grown woman.
Who am I to even complain?
🥀

As I posted my worries on my Facebook page, I received a great response from one of the Moms. 

Truth is hard, change is hard, depression, addiction and we can go on & on about life's challenges.  Gratefulness &  mindfulness is what we need to practice because if we don't focus on here &now we are wasting time  on thinking past & future. If we  focus on what we do today - love others, do our best, and fuck the rest maybe life won't be so hard. Love you and thx for sharing your heart. Sending all of us parents who have to live without our beautiful children light love strength and healing hugs. 💕✨🙏✨💕 Forever Matthew's Mom😇- Debra Schmidt

It made me snap back into the present.

My son is A.L.I.V.E !

I have spent 2 years writing a book of my fears of him dying and he’s STILL ALIVE, yet I’m complaining! I

I must focus on now. I can’t worry about when he gets out of rehab. Or that he’s not humble enough. Or that he still thinks he has all the answers.

Maybe he does.

Who am I?

Gratefulness and mindfulness.

How can I do what that smart Mama suggested? Of course- meditation. Yoga. Affirmations. Any others?

This morning I sit in my living room and try to focus on NOW, just letting gratefulness enter my soul- without being forced with such thoughts of

I SHOULD be grateful.

I SHOULD be positive.

There ARE NO SHOULDS!

It is what it is in this moment. And in this moment I choose peace. Joy. Gratefulness. I looked around my tiny condo and just exhaled.

I relished in my things that make me happy to look at.

Even though they are material things -they are what’s in front of me right now and that’s really all we have.

This is how I start my mindfulness journey. I hope you enjoy.

Abstinence Can Kill

With contribution by Carolyn Ridout Stewart
The ropes course at JourneyPure.Credit…Ilana Panich-Linsman for The New York Times

Before addiction barged its ugly lying-two-faced head into my family, I didn’t know the difference between methamphetamine and methadone.

Sure, being a nurse, when someone was “on meth” I knew it was the former. But as methadone started popping up as an alternative to opioids, I wondered how replacing one drug for another could possibly be better.

This subject sparks as big of a debate as the ‘disease versus choice’ argument for addiction.

Luckily there’s a movement to advocate for people with substance use disorder who -understandably- are unable to suddenly go cold turkey off of years of substance use.

This article, which highlights one treatment center in Tennessee, called JourneyPure, explores all sides of the debate including the premise that medication-assisted treatment is just giving control of the billion-dollar opioid crisis back to pharmaceutical companies.

This was exactly my thoughts when I first started looking into treatment for my son’s substance use disorder.

Did I trust “the industry” that helped perpetuate my sons descent into this darkness?

Did I want to give them more control and more profit? But what is the alternative? Cold Turkey? 

One argument in the article states:

“It’s true that if medications became the main form of addiction treatment, the pharmaceutical industry would benefit — an outrageous outcome, critics of the approach believe, given the industry’s role in creating the opioid epidemic.”

“There’s a small group who will probably need to be on M.A.T. for the rest of their lives,” said Mr. MacMaster, who quit drugs and alcohol 30 years ago, mostly through 12-step programs. “But everybody in this room knows drug-free recovery is really the gold standard.”

Shannon Siedzik came to JourneyPure from New Jersey to be treated for heroin addiction. She said she wasn’t interested in medication because she’d had a previous reaction to buprenorphine.
Shannon Siedzik came to JourneyPure from New Jersey to be treated for heroin addiction. She said she wasn’t interested in medication because she’d had a previous reaction to buprenorphine.Credit…Ilana Panich-Linsman for The New York Times

He stated that, as a state official, he had seen people enter the state’s drug court programs on medication, only to be forced by a judge to go off it and pursue abstinence-based treatment.

Faces and Voices of Recovery shows how to advocate for yourself if this happens

“These people were vulnerable, at high risk of overdosing and relapse,” he said. “We have to keep as many people alive as we can.”

There are also many cases of deaths in jail cells due to withdrawal symptoms not being taken seriously.

In Kentucky, a woman Gave birth alone, because jail employees believed “she was distraught due to coming off drugs.”

So who is the judge and jury for those of our society who are struggling with obvious brain disorder which affects their rational thinking? Although autonomy and self direction are paramount to a persons success in recovery; they also need a thorough medical evaluation in order to place them in the best position for success.

“I am a clinician. The brain, sadly, knows what it wants. It too often overrides one’s capacity to set limits or to use mind over matter. Take sugar as an example. The vast majority of Americans are literally addicted to sugar. It’s the rare individual, indeed, who can be fully abstinent from sugar. Individuals with diabetes enjoy sugar free substitutes that allow them to overcome the terrible sense of sugar deprivation. If an infant were to go a lifetime WITHOUT sugar, that individual could live his or her life happily without sugar. Sadly, in the US, sugar is in almost everything we eat. Our brains learn to want, TO “NEED” sugar from an early age. Our government puts corn syrup (very high sugar content ) in almost all processed foods. Our citizens suffer from a 70% obesity rate from sugar and many are dying because of this sugar by-product. All that being said, individuals often commence opioid use innocently either as youthful experimentation or as a physician-prescribed drug for pain. I have a few patients with opioid use disorders started because of a sports injury in high school.

Opioid use disorders are informed by the brain’s powerful, cruel, unrelenting biochemical mandate: GIVE ME OPIOIDS OR SUFFER!

The vast majority of people cannot fight back against the brain’s totalitarian control. Think of being lost in the desert without water. The brain knows what it wants!

MAT: Medication Assisted Treatment saves lives. Methadone and Suboxone gratify the bullying brain and permit the individual to focus on his or her normal life requirements, family, employment, school etc. Without MAT, the individual is locked in an unending, all-encompassing search for opioids to satisfy the brain.

Abstinence is killing our children.

AA is evolving. My son uses Suboxone and is welcome in some AA meetings.” –Caroline Ridout Stewart, LCSW, harm reduction therapist.

As the argument goes back and forth between the risks of going cold turkey and replacing the dangerous needle users of un-regulated street drugs with a safer option; one fact remains clear to me:

A judge, parole officer, jail warden, or any other person in charge of a person with substance use disorder; should not be the one making medical decisions on someone’s long-term or even short-term recovery.

Every single person’s substance use is different, as is every person’s recovery model. Most of them have used substances to self-medicate for years, so yes their opinion may be a bit skewed. That doesn’t mean they can’t have a say in what treatment plan they are most likely to follow, given their own unique circumstances.

For my struggling son, I would give anything if he was off of everything and leading as functional “normal” life as possible. But the reality is, he has been through years of trauma in the drug world while abusing his body with risky behaviors. However, he is still human and deserves to have a choice on living a healthy life again.

Hope, is what every human relies on and should be given- freely without judgment.

The Twists and Turns of Life

Life’s journeys can start out in fun anticipation of what adventures lie ahead. But sometimes we get in over our heads quickly and instead of turning back, get lost in the maze of unhealthy habits and practices. Everywhere we look, all we see is more tightrope-walking. The thin line between risk and pleasure. The little nagging thought that it will be ok. Just one more time.

I was with my grandkids at this rope park on Saturday and immediately thought of the comparison to life.

We all know that battling addiction is a roller coaster ride, especially for those who are on the sidelines watching is devastating effects. We can be on top of the world, thinking everything is fine; then be dropped to the ground in despair. Instead of butterflies in our stomachs, we have what feels like rocks. Heavy and sad. As I played on these ropes, I realized how far the tentacles and mazes that my son’s addiction have reached. 

I also realized how strong the anchors are that are holding it all together. Anchors that can't be seen from all angles.

Whether you’re stuck in addiction, or watching from the sidelines, you might be stretching, reaching for the next rope to hold on to. In doing so, you have to have a certain amount of faith that those anchors will hold your weight. You just have to believe.

In this moment, after years, of crying out in pain, day after day- with the twists and turns of addiction; I finally made it through a maze of ropes to the other side. For now. My son was finally picked up on his warrants on August 17. On Aug 22, while in jail, he said his life was over and there was no way he could bounce back. He said he had no choice but to hang himself. I was able to get the medical personnel to listen to the tapes and place him in safety.

2 months later- last week- my 35 yr old son, with a bullet hole scar in his leg; called me from a non-descript rehab in a bit of tapered excitement. He’s been put in charge of all new admits. He shows them around and assigns them a bunk and their chores. He has to keep track of them and notify staff if they “run”. It’s a huge responsibility.
💬💯💬💯💬💯💬💯💬💯💬

The relief, the gratitude, the honor, the pride.
The hope forged from faith.
Day after day of earnest prayer.
Tears falling in want.
Tears, turned to joy.

The knowing that we are not in charge.
I say this knowing full well that things can change in an instant.
But I will still rejoice in faith.

My sincere message for today is how important it was that I spoke healing over my situation and problems. It’s ok to feel sad and disappointed at times, but to them- and all involved, it’s more beneficial to speak hope, instead of complaining like we are prone to do. I did my fair share of that, so I know it’s easier said than done, but it gets easier to speak hope instead of disgust to them.

We are not promised even one more day ourselves! So always leave them knowing that you loved them the best you could despite the horrors of this disease.

Today I relish in joy.
Joy in the journey of this boy.
I’m so glad I’m here to witness it because many times I wished to be gone.

Freedom, One Day At A Time

Just over 2 months ago, I declared my son healed. He wasn’t physically….yet, but I spoke healing over him. I had to. I was tired of spinning in circles of everything that was wrong with him. I was done making deals and pleas with God.

He was in jail for the second time this year and the sixth overall from the last few years. I realized I was begging for the wrong things. As stated in my previous whining posts, it’s been a roller coaster ride. And not the new flashy, sexy roller coaster, but the old wooden, creaky, break-down-at-any moment roller coaster (where they would casually say: “You knew the risk” if something were to go wrong.

I was finished making deals and decided to get off the roller coaster, so I sent my first born incarcerated son this message of not only HOPE but of FAITH.

"Your potential is not measured by your surroundings at the moment, but by the quiet moments of your heart. Where you ache deeply for your family and kids. Where your shame has pushed you into places and spaces that smothered you into numbness.

Whatever it is that pushed you into those conditions you're in; whether it was a society who said you weren’t worthy of getting well; or your own spiral into self-defeat; you can come back.

Anytime, come back.

You’re needed. You’re wanted.

It might not seem like it.
We might be scared and worried at first, but it’s only because we care. We have been conditioned to fear the worst. So have you. That’s why it horrifies you to think of being that person you were before. After all – those were the days you needed to escape from. The stress and pressure of expectations and disappointment were off the charts some days.

What if you fail again?
Oh but my son, what if you don’t?
What if the last half or more of your life is filled with unbelievable joy? What if your kids and grandkids are gathered around you to hear your war stories?  Not real war, but your days of the drug war. You won’t glamorize it like alcohol is. You will tell the cold hard truth. You will tell those precious souls that evil starts small. With a thought. A nudge. A risk. A desire for something more. You will tell them not to be afraid or embarrassed to admit their concerns. If they are in over their head, it’s the right thing to do to seek help, but mostly that ALL THAT GLITTERS IS NOT GOLD. 

Come back.
So much love awaits you.

I knew the law had him by the nuggets, but I wanted HIM to WANT to come back to life. I wanted Him to make the decisions to recover, not just going through the motions. I wanted him to lead his own recovery so the success rate would be greater.

During his court hearing, his lawyer presented the name of the rehab he had been accepted to. The Judge started to approve his release from jail to the rehab when he slowly looked down at his notes. What followed was at least a 2 minute dead- silence tense moment in the courtroom, with all eyes on the judge as he looked from his notes to the computer. I knew my son was squirming inside but as usual, on the outside, he was cool as a cucumber. I was holding my breath wondering what the problem was.

Just 3 days before, my son almost got written up in jail for a problem with a jail razor not being turned in correctly. My son told me that it wasn’t him but he’s not a snitch so unless the other guy confesses, my son would probably be going to the hole for 24 hrs. I was thinking the judge was reviewing that and would punish him. At last, he spoke. It was a discrepancy in the number of cases. There was one missing. It was soon cleared up by the prosecution and the judge cleared my son’s release at 5 am the next morning.

My husband and I picked him up from that jail in the dark of the night, for the second time in 2 years. This time it was with hope, with the promise that this nightmare might be over. My son came out of the triple-locked electric doors with an old white shirt on and a garbage bag full of moldy clothes.

He was free. Would he run? My husband was prepared for that.

He didn’t. We proceeded on the 4-hour drive to rehab. The judge said we could only stop for an hour for a meal. Although I was concerned the judge would “find out”; we laughed about it as we stopped in to see his sister, went shopping for pants for rehab, and made the 9 am appointment for his CDL that was expiring quickly. We kept getting lost finding the rehab but finally made it by the 1 pm deadline. My son took his things, hugged me, and said. Thank you, Mom.

My husband and I breathed a huge sigh of relief. Almost as big as we did 2 years ago at the Las Vegas airport when we sent him off with a total stranger.

He was free, in a way. But we were too. Free from worrying about the stark realities of jail. A place where they are just babysitting them through their time there. Addiction might as well be a wart on their toe as far as getting “treated”. Although they did take me seriously when I called medical and said he was going to hang himself. They listened to the tapes and put him in solitary.

He recovered from that mindset, Thank God.

So here we are 5 weeks into rehab. There still are no promises. I’m trying to give my son space to heal. I’m letting him learn to take care of himself. When he figures out he needs something and asks me, I make sure I get it to him, no matter what the barriers. I want him to feel how it feels to have food, a nice bed, and take vitamins again. I do this because I know that to take care of others (his kids, a job, responsibilities); he has to relearn how to take care of himself.

It takes so much patience. From the addicted one AND from all involved. I feel a bit sorry for those who aren’t involved. Oh, I know it’s easier to wash your hands of something. It’s easier to push all the work onto someone else to fix what actually takes both parties to fix. It’s so much easier to say, “call me when you’re sober”. Or even disown someone. If there’s a threat of violence or abuse, I can totally understand. But to fellow humans, family, even; it still saddens my heart that they miss out on the process of change:

  • #1 The service given to a struggling human.
  • #2 The joy of watching them change day by day, week by week.
  • #3 To hear their thoughts and dreams of better days ahead.

It’s disheartening to hear:

“He’s still the same, and until he’s back to the person I want him to be, then he’s not deserving of my time.”

Maybe not in those words but it’s implied. As for me, I choose to take the good with the bad. I choose to aid in any way recovery-minded. Yup, I choose to bring him a basketball at night, when he wants to play basketball. 

Because recovery is an entire mind-body and soul transformation. It's using muscles they haven't used in a while. It's feeling feelings they haven't felt. It's them leaving behind all the coping skills that they've honed in on for months and years (however illegal they were), and convincing them there's a better way- But mostly giving them the space to find it.

He went into rehab with a bullet hole in his leg, I’m hoping he will come out with lead-strong strength and conviction in his healing. And I’m forever grateful that I get to witness it.

Rat Park

If only.

If only I could go back to those days when my kids filled my house with muddy shoes and red punch stains around their lips- I mean pure cranberry juice without sugar, of course- as any good Mom would buy- I would relish in the mess this time.

I promise.

I would take those old Tony Robbins tapes and replay them over and over.

His theory is that every decision, every action, is dependant on what ‘state’ a person is in. State of mind, state of body- how we feel at any given moment has proven to be paramount in my search for addiction ’causes’.

As my Papa would always say “I wish I could do it all over again knowing what I know now.” I used to think that was such an old thing to say.

Well, now I’m old.

But if I could do a time travel- even for a day-I would pull my kids close to and whisper to them how many times they are going to feel confused and uncomfortable; and how it’s ok to feel out of sorts, that they can be in those moments and survive without having to change it or distract from it or bury their feelings.

As I described in this blog post when my son was spared a horrible accident as a toddler; this time-travel, I would tell him how strong and valiant he is. I would look in their little shining eyes and say “No matter what- you’ll be ok. The pain won’t last. You can work through it.”

Of course, I may have said these things to them, but I think I may have also done a lot of the opposite. “What do you need to feel better right now?” Eeek!!! Distraction, suppression, external validation. Anything to avoid the current state of fit throwing, or anger or sadness. Parenting advice changes every few decades so I only take partial blame if this happened.

When I set out on this journey in 2018 of wondering why this epidemic is happening and why in God’s name- as my Mama used to say- it had chosen MY family to implant itself on; I had no idea the answers would be so elusive, yet so vast in nature.

Everyone is just trying to feel ok at any given moment. That moment then turns into a lifetime of addiction because of what brain changes occur. I tire of the argument of whether it’s a disease or choice because as I’ve stated in many posts– how does that change how we treat it (or them?)

Pam Jones Lanhart, a recovery advocate, parent coach and Arise interventionalist, states it so well:

“The science and evidence based research shows that addiction is a reward and response. I think “pain” is a broad word but there is now doubt that people start using because the drink or drug does something for them. “When I drink this drink, I feel less anxious.” Or “when I use this pill all of my emotional pain goes away and it feels like a warm, comforting blanket.” The word pain is relative. But pain could mean the pain of feeling left out. The pain of a family divorce. The pain of a label such as adhd and being made fun of. Pain doesn’t necessarily mean big T trauma. But it does mean that the substance is the solution for the negative emotions that they are experiencing.

So of course, we all make a choice to use or not use. Everyone does it. So we live in a culture where substance use is social glamorized and yet when someone gets ill from it, we demonize and shame them.

NO ONE and I mean NO ONE chooses addiction. Not one person who took a drink or a toke off of a bud expected to become addiction. That’s a ridiculous notion and not informed by any data or science. “When I used I was rewarded with a really good feeling. So I used again.” And eventually the neuropathways of the brain are reprogrammed and THEN in spite of all of the negative consequences and the fact that the using is no longer working for them, they can’t stop. That is the definition of addiction. Continued use in spite of negative consequences.

No one expects this. It sneaks up on them and before they know it they are addiction.

That being said, today 7,000 people will choose recovery. 7,000!

And yes, it has EVERYTHING to do with pain. We all have pain. When I drink a glass of wine I feel free. The pain of my life dissipates. Let’s face it. If substances didn’t make us feel better on some level, none of us would use them.

So using is a choice.
Addiction is NOT a choice
Recovery is a choice."- Pam Jones Lanhart

As I have explored the CHOICES and CAUSES of my son’s addiction, I keep coming back to the connection theory of Johanna Hari. Even if we never know someone’s true reason for starting (and maybe they don’t and won’t ever know either) we can still get a picture of the importance of a person”s ‘state’.

“Get a rat and put it in a cage and give it two water bottles. One is just water, and one is water laced with either heroin or cocaine. If you do that, the rat will almost always prefer the drugged water and almost always kill itself very quickly, right, within a couple of weeks. So there you go. It’s our theory of addiction.

Bruce comes along in the ’70s and said, “Well, hang on a minute. We’re putting the rat in an empty cage. It’s got nothing to do. Let’s try this a little bit differently.” So Bruce built Rat Park, and Rat Park is like heaven for rats. Everything your rat about town could want, it’s got in Rat Park. It’s got lovely food. It’s got sex. It’s got loads of other rats to be friends with. It’s got loads of colored balls. Everything your rat could want. And they’ve got both the water bottles. They’ve got the drugged water and the normal water. But here’s the fascinating thing. In Rat Park, they don’t like the drugged water. They hardly use any of it. None of them ever overdose. None of them ever use in a way that looks like compulsion or addiction. There’s a really interesting human example I’ll tell you about in a minute, but what Bruce says shows that both the right-wing and left-wing theories of addiction are wrong. So the right-wing theory is it’s a moral failing, you’re a hedonist, you party too hard. The left-wing theory is it takes you over, your brain is hijacked. Bruce says it’s not your morality, it’s not your brain; it’s your cage. Addiction is largely an adaptation to your environment.

We’ve created a society where significant numbers of our fellow citizens cannot bear to be present in their lives without being drugged, right? We’ve created a hyperconsumerist, hyperindividualist, isolated world that is, for a lot of people, much more like that first cage than it is like the bonded, connected cages that we need.

The opposite of addiction is not sobriety. The opposite of addiction is connection. And our whole society, the engine of our society, is geared towards making us connect with things not people. If you are not a good consumer capitalist citizen, if you’re spending your time bonding with the people around you and not buying stuff—in fact, we are trained from a very young age to focus our hopes and our dreams and our ambitions on things we can buy and consume. And drug addiction is really a subset of that."
~ Johann Hari

This came up on my memories today. I’m unsure who to give credit to. It says what I feel in my heart, even though I know it is sometimes difficult to do. 

The key to supporting people living with addiction in reaching their full potential is the exact opposite of “letting them hit rock bottom.” It is instead to move the bottom of that pyramid of human needs up so that the 
needs which are known to bring people closer to reaching their full potential are being met.
( Such as feeling loved, worth saving, forgiveness)

It means to foster social connectedness rather than to force isolation.... Wich leads to shame depression and death😭
It means to practice acceptance rather than intolerance.
It means to fan self-worth rather than to fuel shame.
It means to love rather than to disdain.
Mostly it means to never having last regrets for others...I can't imagine being on the brink of death knowing that you are a complete disappointment to everyone.

No Regrets

I hurriedly rushed through the sporting goods store looking for the items on my son’s “list” for this weeks “drop”.

  • A coffee mug
  • A hat with a flag or a CAT logo
  • A lighter
  • More protein mix and protein bars and maybe pre-workout mix
  • Head -n- Shoulders Body/ shampoo wash
  • More cigarettes
  • Magazines

This day was special. It’s the eve of 4 weeks in rehab. 4 weeks to a person with years of substance use is HUGE. This is after 5 weeks in jail. Although this amount of time is a great victory, it’s a drop in the hat compared to the amount of time using……..years.

Insurance companies, and others, might insist “Shouldn’t he be healed by now?”

Hmm, I’m not good at math but 48 months doesn’t equal 2 months. The brain is amazing but neuroplasticity takes time. Just like it took time to adjust to the drugs.

We “think” that as soon as we get them out of that cycle of chaos and get them a shower and some decent meals, they will be good-to-go. If that were true- there would be zero return to use after jail.

As it is, my son is learning how to take care of himself again. For year’s, yes years, he has been in pure survival mode. Trying to find a place to stay every night; trying to maneuver his substance use, trying to justify his substance use, trying to deny his substance use. Putting poison in his body TO SURVIVE, yes survive. Every day his body told him- SCREAMED at him in fact: “GET DOPE or DIE”. It is survival to them.

But now, his focus is back on learning his body’s other cues. Cues of revitalization. Healing. Repairing years of damage to cells. Brain and body. He has scars. He has a bullet hole. He has ingrained pathways in his brain that automatically go into the quickest way to feel better and the quickest way to obtain the resources in order to feel better. To slow the hell down, sit in class after class, face his demons, face the pain he has caused his family, and face losing his freedom, must be daunting. To refocus that energy on lifting weights, or smoking, is a dream to me.

I gladly provide any of these items for the same reason as I picked out his baby food when he was little. As mothers, we are nurturers. It doesn’t matter if they are grown, men. Everyone needs their “person”. More and more studies are showing that even having one person believe in them, makes recovery more sustainable. Plus, nothing is promised. No time, no future, no measure of success is promised, day to day, with anyone, but especially with substance use. If I can buy my grown son some protein bars, I will gladly do it. Anything to keep him learning, contemplating, hoping for a better life.

I made the drop-off time at exactly 7:22.30, which is the time my son wrote down- just to mess with them. Ever the jokester, I love having his humor back.

As I made the drop-off, I could see the group inside, sitting in their 7 pm meeting. Unbelievably, I could see my son in direct view of the window! I had vetted over 25 rehabs by the time this one was picked. It wasn’t the best, but it worked out being the one needed. I didn’t have any idea it would be within a few miles of my house, in fact straight up the street!

Call me a stalker if you’d like, but I am cherishing every second of this. I cried and prayed every day for 2 years for this. Every day, I worried about his life being taken. He just told me about a guy who hung himself at the sober living house he’s supposed to go to after this. People are so tender inside. We have zero clue of the demons they must face. What appears on the outside is not truly reflective of what’s on the inside. They struggle with what awaits them. Going from having nothing to rebuilding everything back up must be horrifying. My son has no house, car or job to go to. If I can be his “person” to help him maneuver that, I will gladly take on that role. I will cherish every second of my role as his Mother during this precious time.

I sat outside in my car after the drop off and yup, you guessed it- cried. But these were tears of joy. This was everything, I mean everything, I could have wanted to happen. Prayers answered, dreams come true.

I am truly living in the moment with zero care of what anyone thinks of what may be the right or wrong thing to do. I don’t see anyone else making any effort to save a life, and that’s fine; but what I’ve said through all of this journey, as for me:

I want ZERO regrets

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

As a mom to a person with Opiod Use Disorder(OUD) ptsd has affected me greatly. If you don’t know what PTSD is, you may not have it. I would say It’s a severe form of anxiety that can usually be traced back to an event or series of events. The department of Experimental Psychology describes it this way:

  • Unwanted distressing memories of the trauma, flashbacks or nightmares
  • Feeling emotionally upset, tearful or irritable for example, or bodily reactions such as sweating, shaking or a racing heart beat when reminded of the event
  • Avoiding talking about the trauma, thinking about it or feelings associated with it
  • Avoiding reminders of the trauma: people, places or activities
  • Feeling emotionally numb, difficulty experiencing feelings like love or happiness
  • Negative thoughts about the self, the world or the future
  • Feeling detached and cut-off from other people, finding it difficult to be close to anyone
  • Loss of interest in activities that used to be enjoyable
  • Difficulty sleeping or concentrating
  • Feeling overly alert or watchful or feeling jumpy 

For loved ones caught in addiction, the families can certainly have all of these symptoms and more. I remember so many times trying to describe symptoms to yet another therapist as they looked at me like I was crazy.

I mean….. Aren’t all their patients???

Kidding aside, usually addiction isn’t seen as an event like war, rape or deaths of a parent or close family member. I can truly say over the last 3 years I have had all of the above stated symptoms.

There are specific things to do for ptsd such as emdr which is explained in this short video

https://www.ptsd.va.gov/understand_tx/emdr.asp

Here’s another one:

There’s also Prolonged exposure, which kinda scares me- I’m not gonna lie.

https://www.ptsd.va.gov/understand_tx/prolonged_exposure.asp

You can find a therapist who does these treatments by typing into your browser (I prefer duck duck go) psychology today. Type in your zip code, then you can click on your insurance and all therapies like emdr, that you’re interested in.

My coping skills for my outbreaks ( between therapists)  have been many things depending on where I was at. If I was in my car I would turn up the radio loud to songs that I knew and purposely breathe deep and loud while singing in gasps. Although sounding ridiculous, this helped bring me out of my head, get the needed oxygen to my brain (I hate trying to take slow deep breaths when I’m upset), and back to the healing sounds of music.

If I was at home, which happened usually at night; I would leave my bed which wasn’t doing it’s b anyway, go to my couch & snuggle under my weighted blanket. I would turn the tv onto something that would catch my eye with beautiful scenery or fast-moving scenes. I didn’t want to hear what was happening, I only wanted my visual attention to be drawn in and mesmerized while my body calmed down.

At work, it was a different story. I once went into my boss’s office at the beginning of my shift and told her I couldn’t breathe and needed to go home. I don’t even know what had happened, it seemed like my son had a court date or similar, but it doesn’t matter if it’s anything “serious”. Almost all things addiction- are upsetting to us. I hate to say it but at work, if I’m upset about my son, I have to take a beta-blocker such as propranolol it metoprolol for anxiety. Please consult a doctor for your unique situation.

At work I teach my patients to do a 54321 sensory exercise like the Mayo clinic recommends here:

Stress bomb illustration

Everyone feels anxious now and then. But there are things you can do to minimize those feelings. Mayo Clinic Health System staff suggests trying the exercise below the next time your mind is stuck on the worry setting.

Sit quietly. Look around you and notice:

  • 5 things you can see: Your hands, the sky, a plant on your colleague’s desk
  • 4 things you can physically feel: Your feet on the ground, a ball, your friend’s hand
  • 3 things you can hear: The wind blowing, children’s laughter, your breath
  • 2 things you can smell: Fresh-cut grass, coffee, soap
  • 1 thing you can taste: A mint, gum, the fresh air

This exercise helps you shift your focus to your surroundings in the present moment and away from what is causing you to feel anxious. It can help interrupt unhealthy thought patterns. They also have a cute stress video:

Holding a bag of ice or frozen vegetables can be grounding. Going outside barefoot with a change of scenery helps. I put a bag of rocks on my patio, that I bought at home depot with some paint pens. When I needed distraction I would pick up a rock & start painting. Later at the therapists or in your journal you can work through the emotion. Most importantly is to give yourself grace. Like my fellow mom wrote in this blog about self love.

Looking back, things that I worried about, had a way of working out, whether I worried about them or not, so why did I waste my energy, tears, risk my job, etc? Pick your battles- people ultimately are going to do what they’re going to do. When it’s all said and done your health matters too. When I used to hear that, I would say- I’ll take care of me later- but later might be too late.

Sick

I sat at my desk and coughed.

Again. Just a short one. But enough to have me notice that it seemed to be happening a lot.

I felt that familiar tightness in my chest. I knew this wasn’t the normal chest/stomach anxiety that had lived there for over 2 years. This was real sickness- tightness. I had felt it coming on for a few days now. A bit of a shiver. The wave of dread sliding from the top-down resting in the big muscles in the thigh in the form of aches. My white blood cells working overtime trying to combat this invader. I went home and popped vitamin C, zinc, echinacea, & silver. Two days later I tasted it. That taste you get when you cough. When you know that you’re in for a few weeks of miserable Flem, snot & fevers. Ughhhhh. The dread of knowing your body has been invaded by a viral species.

Who has time to be sick?? I did a covid test on myself for the 3rd time this week.

Negative. Great.

Now I have to be sick PLUS not have an excuse to miss work. See, in nursing, and before covid, you had to be practically dying with the pastor calling your boss for you to call off sick.

I know, I know. But we take care of sick people, we can’t be sick. In theory and on paper, that’s true. But in the real world, you load up on cold medicine, and if anyone notices, you say you have allergies and no one blinks an eye. Now, after Covid, people would back away from you if you so much as uttered a little Kerchoo! But things have changed in the last 9 months. The long-talked-about nursing shortage is happening in real-time. There are no extra bodies to cover your shift. You work pretty much through anything.

I started thinking about when the last time I was sick was. It was October 2019. Despite being around covid positive patients and not missing a day of work since I had not been truly ill for almost 2 years.

Why now?

Hmmm. The day before my first chest tightness was the day I dropped my 36-year-old son off at rehab. We have been waiting 2 years for this. Even with the court breathing down his neck, he knew it was time. He told me he was tired of running.

Best words I’ve heard in a long time! 

Tired of running.

I was tired too. My son had addicted himself out of a house, car, job, and family. He had been scoraging around, always “trying to start over with nothing” as he put it. He even had a bullet hole in his leg from one of his jaunts to Vegas. Most people who “start over” don’t get a bullet hole in the process. Bullet hole, to me, meant you’re still on the downward slide. But who am I to know anything?

I had met his addiction head-on trying to lead him out of this hellhole. I had begged and pleaded for him to see the light. When he was released from jail earlier this summer, on a Saturday afternoon, I was devastated. I thought the chances of him going to prison were exponentially high because I knew beyond a shadow of the doubt that he wouldn’t check in with pretrial probation as they asked. I tried to stay out of it. I did. But just because we “stay out of it” doesn’t mean our insides aren’t churning like a taffy twisting machine you see at the carnival. So while my stomach was in knots for the 9 weeks he was out, he finally went back to jail in the best scenario possible: Pulled over on warrants, with no new charges. This time, for 33 days, we (me & the lawyers) made sure he wasn’t getting out except to rehab.

So here we are. Him safe, me sick.

The very fact that I came down with one of the worst colds/ flu I’ve ever had the minute he was safe in rehab, was not a coincidence.

I think it’s God’s way of saying, “Rest, child”. Joanna Weaver states in her article on 7 verses for when you are weary:

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” Matthew 11:28-29

God knows what you need. Like a good shepherd, He ensures we have seasons of rest in green pastures and beside quiet waters. He also knows that to get to some of those restful places we may have to walk through a dark valley first, but He offers His presence to guide, protect and comfort us every step of the way.

No hurt is overlooked, no pain is wasted, no child of God is left behind. God will carry you through to the other side.

“The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he refreshes my soul. He guides me along the right paths for his name’s sake. Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me your rod and your staff, they comfort me.” Psalm 23:1-4"- Johannaweaverbooks.com

‘He MAKES me lie down in green pastures. I have always believed sickness is our body’s way of telling us (making us) to slow down. When we can’t seem to do it ourselves because of our martyrdom, or our real responsibilities. Ironically, I used to send my addicted son this quote when he was at the height of running his businesses and showed no reprieve in his drive and ambition.

He would soon live up to that and spent 3 years counting, in addiction, and now whatever time it will take to climb out. I’m forever grateful for the chances he gets and the second chance he has to live. I’m grateful that things have seemed to turn in his favor. Tonight as I settled in for a rainy afternoon making me some homemade chicken noodle soup, just like my mama used to make; I breathed in a sigh of relief. I guess it was time to take care of myself. I guess I needed this illness. I “earned” it. Not that anyone deserves suffering, more like forced to slow down for their own good. As I sat down to eat hours later, it was then I realized I had forgotten to add the chicken. My soup was just Noodle Soup.

Oh well. Go figure. Recovery is not a straight line. And neither is my cooking! Sometimes the chicken doesn’t even cross the road…or my stove!