Stop Resisting And Start Living

Pain is in the resisting of what is.  When I first read this, I had a moment,  one of those moments that changed my life.  As I thought about it, I realized how true it is, that the pain in any situation comes in the resisting of it.  When you accept what is, then the peace comes.  Stop resisting how things are and relax into acceptance.  After you do that, you feel the peace of letting go of trying to control a situation that you have no power to control.  

Accepting what is doesn’t mean you have to like it.  I think we get caught up in the thought that acceptance means we are ok or approve of how things are in the moment.  That isn’t true at all.  Accepting what is brings power and peace.  It means letting go of feeling responsible for, or in charge of others or their lives. It means changing your focus to yourself and what you have control over.  Sometimes it’s helpful to remind yourself of what you actually do control.  We all get confused about this at times.  

Acceptance means that we accept ourselves and the people in our lives, as we and they are.  It is only then, that we have the clarity to function and make decisions. Letting go of dreams is hard. The dreams we had for ourselves and for those we love, but we have to let go of old dreams to make room for new ones.  Letting go of our idea of what life was suppose to be like is hard work, but so necessary.  We have to have dreams and hopes for the future.  We might just need to shift the lens of what the future looks like.  The freedom lies in our ability to adapt and change. Don’t hold on so tightly to what you thought would be and miss all the amazing things that are.  

Desperation

I will say that during the years of my son’s raging addiction I tried everything.  I spent most of my days thinking about what I could do or where I could go.  I talked to countless people about him.  

One night I called a counselor’s office after hours and happened to get him on the phone.  I rattled off my story, as I had many times before.  I will always remember what he said to me.  “Jill” he said, “He won’t stop until he’s ready, no matter what you do.”  Silence on my end of the phone.  How could that be? I’m his mother, I have to do something.  He is gonna kill himself or someone else or end up in prison.  He calmly said.  “People in addiction will not get help until they are ready to change.  I have seen so many parents spend their retirements sending their kids to rehabs and camps all for them to come home and continue in their addiction.”  Then he continued, “You just have to set boundaries with him.  Set rules of what you will and won’t put up with and hold that line.  That’s all you can do.  He will decide when he’s done.”  Somehow that was and wasn’t comforting.  I now know how much wisdom he shared with me that night.  But, when you’re a Mother, seeing your child so dangerously out of control and fearing for his life, you get tunnel vision.  You loose a part of your common sense.  You literally feel an instinct kick in like the Mother Bear who will stop at nothing to save her cub.  It’s like you can’t help yourself.  Looking back I see that head space I was in.  It didn’t necessarily help him or me.  

Addiction isn’t like you as a parent can go fight the enemy or talk your child away from a dangerous situation. Their brain chemistry changes. You can remove him or her, only to have them figure out a way back.  I have done many things to try to save him.  I have lectured his friends, chased them in my car, never gave him money or a license, took his door off his room, sent him to a boy’s ranch, locked him out of the house, called the police on him, confiscated his drugs, took him to counseling.  This is just an example of a few things I did.  Nothing worked.  

In the end I tried to set boundaries and he wouldn’t respect them, so he had to leave.  I  told him to come back when he was ready to get some help.  There is so much that happened and so much emotion between those last two sentences.  It looks simple.  He had to leave.  It wasn’t.  It was heart wrenching and terrifying and awful.  I managed the strength, only because it was all I had left to try.


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Just For Today

This morning as I opened my eyes, lying in bed, I thought.  Just for today.  Just for today I am going to live my life as if it didn’t happen.  I am going to put it in a box, close it and put it on a shelf.  Just for today, I am not going to think about it.  Just for today I won’t let the sadness of it weigh on my heart.  I won’t let the disappointment and fear cause a constant ache in my chest.  Just for today, I won’t let the intense feeling of failure affect how I feel about myself.  Just for today I will internalize the statement: I didn’t create it, I can’t control it and I can’t cure it.  For today I will focus on all the great things happening in my life. For today I will let myself feel hope for the future.  Hope that someday this will all be a memory with a happy ending.  Just for today. For today I will focus on the things I can control in my life and find joy in that. Just for today.  Then tomorrow, I will try again.

I wrote this 3 years ago as my son sat in jail.  Having someone close to you that is in addiction, and all the chaos that is a part of the disease, is emotionally and physically staggering.  The constant fear and worry.  The feeling that the next storm is coming, if you're not already in one. The helplessness and confusion is overwhelming.  If you let it, it will take over your life.  

I remember many sleepless nights, up until he came home.  Waiting on the couch of the living room, watching and hoping he would come back.  The minutes like hours,  I didn't turn on the lights most of the time.  Just me in the dark, praying for my son.  Sometimes he came and sometimes he didn't.  When I saw him walking up to the house, the tears always came.  I would go to my room and sob with relief that he was home.

One thing I know for sure, when living with someone in addiction, you have to take care of yourself.  It seems impossible, I know.  But you must try to detach.  You ruining your life, doesn't help them or you.  Even if it's an hour at a time.  Take a rest from it mentally.  The book Codependent No More by Melody Beattie is the bible, as far as I'm concerned, when you're living with someone in addiction.  If you haven't read it you must do it now.  It saved me in so many ways.

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Start The Healing

Every time I sit to write for this blog I start to think about writing advice about dealing with addiction.  I begin to write about what might help you, and every time I do, it doesn’t flow at all.  The thought keeps coming back to me…just tell the story.  The story is hard to tell and harder to let others read.  It’s hard for my son to let me tell it.  It’s painful to put it out there.  But, when I get authentic, then the words come with ease.  When I bare my soul, it comes without effort.  I thank Mitch for letting me tell these things that are painful for him to read and have others know.  He and I do it, only with the hope that it might help someone else.  I think we all spend too much time trying to look perfect.  Hiding our pain and experiences for fear of being judged.  I wish we would all get real about life and let each other know about what we suffer with.  Then, maybe we would all have more compassion and not feel alone. 

Drug and alcohol addiction can touch any and all families.  I don’t care how careful and thoughtful and diligent you are to teach your kids.  If you haven’t dealt with it, don’t be proud about it, be grateful.  I have found that many parents just aren’t aware that their kids are using drugs.  It took me a year to realize there was a problem, because I wasn’t looking.  I never imagined it could happen to us.  You see I am an adult child of an alcoholic.  My mother wasn’t a mother to me because she was drunk most all of my life.  My childhood was ruined because of her alcoholism.  I suffered and still do to this day because of it.  So, I made sure from a very young age to talk about it to my kids and warn them and teach them about the dangers of substance abuse.  Even so, it still happened. 

I tried so hard to distance myself from the pain of my experience with my Mom, that when my son started down the same road it was devastating. So seriously emotionally crippling.  I’m sure I didn’t handle his situation with enough wisdom because of it.  I was overcome by so much old pain and emotion that I had pushed down for so long.  Then it all came crashing to the surface and I felt overwhelmed.  Ever heard of the saying.  “Old feelings buried alive never die”? It’s true.  

As time went on I did learn to process my feelings better and learn to set boundaries.  I will talk about that in another post.  The thing I want to end with is that you must feel your feelings. Either do so, or live in pain and denial.  After you suffer enough, you get desperate enough to do the work.  The inner work that needs to be done.  Living in pain and fear was no longer an option for me.  So I began…the healing that needed to be done.

Rising From The Ashes

My son at the age of 20 years old was sent to prison for 3 years and 4 months.  He got into drugs at 14 and his life slowly spiraled downward from there.  These past years have felt like watching a movie of someone else's life.  A movie where the mother deserved this pain and humiliation.  A mother that set a bad example in the way she lived her life. A mother that used drugs herself or neglected her son or worst.  But I wasn't any of those mothers. Yet I was fighting to save this young man’s life with all that I had in me.  Trying anything I could think of to help him.  Even so, I sat in court watching my precious son enter with chains around his ankles and wrists. In a white jump suit that had INMATE across the back.  Filing in with characters that I would have warned him to never get near. Yet he was sitting right next to them.  He was one of them.  I couldn’t wrap my head around it.  He was facing a sentence of years in prison.  His “friends” turned against him so they could escape the terrible consequences.  Bailed out by there testimonies that it was all his fault.  I knew better…so did they. Even so, in this unbearable situation, he held his head high.  He took his sentence with the composure and courage of a man much older than he.  He accepted responsibility and didn’t blame anyone else.  As the judge announced his sentence, the room was quiet except for my sobbing.  I tried, so hard to cry softly, but I couldn’t control my emotion.  Just raw emotion coming from a mother’s heart.  The kind of emotion that won’t be hid or calmed.  That doesn't care who sees or what anyone else thinks.  As the bailiff led him out he glanced at me and I could see in his eyes the reassurance he wanted to give me.  As I walked to the car alone I felt the physical pain of a broken heart.  This was not what I had in mind for my life and for my son.  I would have never imagined I would be facing this situation.  I couldn’t let myself think about what lie ahead for him.  

It is 3 and a half years later and my son has shown me how to rise like The Phoenix from the ashes to a new birth. How you take the pain and mistakes of the past and make them work for you.  To accept what you can not change and make the most of it. The story of my son is just one of many things that have forced me to either wake up and live or to remain eyes closed holding on for dear life like you do when you’re on a rollercoaster ride.  I’ve been to the dark night of the soul. More times than I’d wished.  I have lived in pain and pushing down the emotion and confusion like you do an overflowing trash can. Keeping the lid on…tight.  Everything about my life is different than I had thought it would be.  I have been sad and scared for too long. I am ready to change my life.  This work of inner healing is hard work.  There is no blueprint or plan.  Only the plan that you make as you listen to your heart and soul. I think it will be different for everyone.  Nobody can tell you how to heal your life.  I have found that if you listen you will start to get the inspiration you need for your own healing. I am going to write about my process.  I feel like the mythical Phoenix bird.  Who after being burned to ashes ..starts to open her eyes and begin to rise up.  Learning from the past with eyes wide open… being born to a better life.

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Serenity Prayer

God, grant me the Serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the Courage to change the things I can and the Wisdom to know the difference.

My son, after 6 months clean and sober, relapsed one night and committed a crime.  A crime that put him in prison for 3 years, two of which he has already served.  Before that night I had such hopes that the worst was over and that he was on his way. 

I was startled awake at 5 am by a loud pounding on the front door.  My husband was on a business trip. I stumbled to the door as I threw my robe on. I saw through the side windows of my door, the uniforms of the police.  My stomach dropped and my heart was pounding.  I opened the door and 4 police men entered my home and asked if I knew where my son was.  A question I have grown to fear. As they explained why they were looking for him, everything went into slow motion for me.  My legs went weak and I fell back onto the stairs behind me. Could this really be happening?  My mind raced thinking about where he was and what had happened.  As they took him away that morning in handcuffs, in my despair I had the distinct feeling that this event would save his life. 

After 10 months in the county jail he was sentenced to prison.  He had just turned 20.  He was scared and I was devastated.  The day they transported him to the prison, I thought it wasn’t until the next day. I called the jail to check on something and the officer informed me that he had been taken that morning.  I thought I was prepared, but I wasn’t.  I slumped to the floor and sobbed uncontrollably.  I had never felt such despair. That was the first day of my life that I stayed in bed all day, because I couldn’t face my life.

As the days and weeks passed I found myself…not myself.  I didn’t want to talk to anyone. (not like me) I isolated myself and only did what I had to.  I was suffering with anxiety and had trouble leaving the house most days.  I cried all the time.  I think it was not just his sentence, but the years before of living with his addiction.  I had kept myself and my family running even though my son was killing himself.  I just couldn’t pretend to be alright anymore. 

Then one day I knelt down and asked God to direct me to where I needed to be.  Within a few days I had a job at Cirque Lodge, the rehab that my son had gone to before his arrest.  I wasn’t looking for a job.  But the universe answered and put me exactly where I needed to be.  It was hard at first.  Everything about that place reminded me of him.  The first time that I stood in the circle holding hands with people I didn’t know and saying the serenity prayer, I could barely speak.  I choked up with emotion every time.  But, as I continued to go and work with the residents, a healing began.  My healing. I loved hearing their stories and encouraging them in any way I could.  As I attempted to help them, I was being healed.  As I loved them, they loved me back.  We laughed and cried together.  There were many moments of personal realization for me.  I got in touch with myself in a way I hadn’t for years.  I respect and admire those that work there.  They go about this work of saving lives like their own lives depend on it.  I watched the intensity they had as they did their jobs. Many of them are in recovery.  They know what it is to suffer with addiction and they are heroes to me.  What great friends I made.  After 8 months I feel like myself again.  I am back to the me I knew before the suffering started.  Except, I’m a different kind of me.  Maybe wiser, maybe stronger, for sure more compassionate.  That job saved me in ways I can’t explain.  Now I’m ready to get on with my life and pursue my dreams.  I will always be a work in progress.  Now, I understand the importance of self-care and how vital it is to have boundaries. I know that I will always need support in this life of living with addiction in my family.  However, now I feel I have the tools I need to cope…

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

The Day I Knew

I will write the memories of these last 7 years as they come to me.  Today I feel I should share this.  I always pray that I will share something that will help someone.  I had an idea to write something completely different today.  Then I decided to tell this story.

My son started his drug addiction at age 14.  He had always been a “handful” kinda like raising a bull calf.  He is bright, handsome, funny, charismatic, super smart, athletic.  Not just because I’m his mother…he really is all those things.  However, he is also, short tempered, very impulsive, quick to get into physical confrontation, and struggles with empathy for others.  He has always been an adrenaline junkie.  He loves mountain biking, motor cross, snowboarding, wrestling, MMA fighting.  He fears nothing.  I have long admired him for that.  I feel I go through life afraid of a lot.  He has the spirit of a warrior.  I think he was born in the wrong time really.  I think he would have loved running through the woods in a loin cloth with a spear in his hand.  I told him once that being his mother was a lot like being on a roller coaster ride.  Most of the time you just gotta close your eyes and hold on!

There is also something so noble about him.  It isn’t apparent to everyone.  But, those that really know him, see it.  He feels deeply, deeper than most.  Maybe, because of that, he struggles hard to cope with those feelings.

He was approached by a friend when he was in 8^th grade.  The kid offered him marijuana.  He said no several times but, the friend persisted.  So, he tried…and he was hooked.  You can never, ever, convince me that marijuana is not addictive.  It makes my blood boil just typing those words.  He was smoking weed for about a year before I knew.  He was good at hiding it.  Also, I wasn’t imagining that it could happen, so I wasn’t watching for it. He had been through all the school programs.  The “Say No To Drugs” program.  Since my Mother was an alcoholic, (that could be another blog all by itself) I had always talked to my kids about drugs and alcohol.  I tried my best to put the fear of it in their hearts since they were little.

It is a long story and I will tell little by little in this blog.  He has told me lots of things I want to write about.  But, today, I will tell the story of when I knew he would die soon if something didn’t happen.

It had been a terrible winter.  He had been in and out of the house for months.  One day I noticed a red mark on the inside of his arm.  I thin red line right over his vein.  I had been trying to get him to go to rehab for a year.  I knew he was using heroin.  I thought only smoking it.  I asked him about it and he quickly made up some story.  The next day I saw the same mark on the back of his knee.  I was panic stricken.  That night I prayed to know what to do.  I had a feeling that I should go down to his room and look under his mattress.  You see, I still didn’t want to believe it.  I went to look under his mattress and found a needle.  I picked it up and slowly walked into my husband’s office.  He looked up at me, our eyes met, and we both began to cry.  We knew he wouldn’t be here long if something didn’t happen. 

He came home that night.  I told him he would have to leave.  I told him that he was going to die if he didn’t get help.  He left that night.

Two days later he came back to get some things.  He had short sleeves on.  I saw the track marks all over the inside of his arms.  He was totally wasted.   He didn’t even try to hide it.  As he went to leave, I felt that I would never see him again...alive.  The emotion was uncontrollable.  I ran after him and spun him around.  I grabbed his arms and stroked the inside of his arms with my hand.  Then, I did what I had never done before.  I begged.  I cried and I begged him to get help.  As the tears streamed down my face I begged him.  I said “Please, let’s get help Mitch…”  I didn’t yell, I just kept saying it over and over again.  At first he tried to break free from me.  Then we made eye contact.  Even though he was high….I saw into his heart for that moment.  He saw me, I think for the first time in a long time.  His eyes filled with tears.  Everything faded away for a few seconds.  I was pleading for his life…and he knew it.  I saw how scared he was.  He knew he was in serious trouble.

He left that night.  Two days later, he knocked at the door.  There he stood, so thin, clothes hanging off him, with a baseball hat on.   He started to cry…and said…I’m ready to go to rehab.

That is not the end of the story.  But, that was a good day.