BULLETINS

“HOPE IS NOT A STRATEGY TO DRUG PREVENTION” (M.M.)

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THE YELLOW BRICK ROAD…

“We are both on a path, the addict and I. When I think of this path, I often remember the yellow brick road in THE WIZARD OF OZ. Has anyone ever noticed when Dorothy starts down the yellow brick road there is also a red brick road? As a child, I always wondered what would have happened to Dorothy if she had taken the red brick road instead of the yellow brick road. Well, I look at our paths, the addicts’s and mine, as being on those two roads — me on the yellow and her on the red. We are not supposed to cross over to each other’s paths. That would not help either of our programs… sometimes I catch up with others on my path, or they catch up with me: other parents, other spouses, other loved ones affected by the disease of addiction. I know I am never alone. The same thing happens on the addict’s path. She may meet other addicts, some in recovery, some not. Sometimes addicts may stop and sit for awhile; they may ponder whether this is the right path for them. We can only hope they will move on, but we cannot pull them forward because we are not on the same path and it is not our job. That job belongs to their Higher Power and the timing of it is completely out of our control. Sometimes both of our paths are fraught with obstacles the same as Dorothy’s with the Wicked Witch, the flying monkeys, and the poison poppies. How we deal with obstacles and how we manage to keep moving on is the learning part of this journey. Sometimes we get help from others on the same path such as the scarecrow, the tin man, and the lion, in the form of experience, strength and hope. This helps us to stay focused and grounded. If we keep going, the addict and I, we will one day get to Emerald City. But please keep in mind, even after Dorothy reaches Emerald City, she still had challenges to overcome, just as my addict and I will. Keep coming back! Don’t leave before the miracle happens.”

(Nar-Anon)

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AN OPEN LETTER TO MY FAMILY

Chemical dependency is a family illness and needs the total familyʼs involvement toward their recovery. I Am A Chemically Dependent Person.  I NEED HELP. Donʼt allow me to lie to you and accept it for the truth, for in so doing, you encourage me to lie. The truth may be painful, but get at it. Donʼt let me outsmart you. This only teaches me to avoid responsibility and to lose respect for you at the same time. Donʼt let me exploit you or take advantage of you. In so doing, you become an accomplice to my evasion of responsibility. Donʼt lecture me, moralize, scold, praise, blame, or argue when Iʼm drunk, high, or sober. And donʼt pour out my liquor, or take away my drugs. You may feel better, but the situation will be worse. Donʼt accept my promises. This is just my method of postponing pain. And donʼt keep switching agreements. If an agreement is made, stick to it. Donʼt lose your temper with me. It will destroy you and any possibility of helping me. Donʼt allow your anxiety for us to compel you to do what I must do for myself. Donʼt cover up or abort the consequences of my drug use. It reduces the crisis, but perpetuates the illness. Above all, donʼt run away from reality as I do. Chemical dependency, my illness, gets worse as my use continues. Start now to learn, to understand, and to plan for my recovery. I need help from a doctor, a counselor, a psychologist, or a recovered alcoholic or addict, and from God.       I cannot help myself. I hate myself, but I love you. To do nothing is the worst choice you can make for us. Please help me, Your Addicted Person

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DRUGS – A POEM

“I destroy homes, tear families apart…take your children and that’s just the start.
I’m more costly than diamonds, more costly than gold – the sorrow I bring is a sight to behold. And if you need me, remember I’m easily found. I live all around you, in schools and in town.
I live with the rich, I live with the poor. I live down the street and maybe next door.
My power is awesome – try me you’ll see. But if you do, you may never break free.
Just try me once and I might let go, but try me twice and I’ll own your soul.
When I possess you, you’ll steal and lie. You’ll do what you have to just to get high.
The crimes you’ll commit, for my narcotic charms, will seem to be worth the pleasure you’ll feel in your arms.

You’ll lie to your mother, you’ll steal from your dad. When you see their tears, you should be sad. But you’ll forget your morals and how you were raised. I’ll be your conscience, I’ll teach you my ways. I take kids from parents, and parents from kids, I turn people from God and separate from friends.
I’ll take everything from you, your looks and your pride, I’ll be with you always, right by your side. You’ll give up everything – your family, your home, your friends, your money, then you’ll be alone. I’ll take and I’ll take, till you have nothing more to give. When I’m finished with you, you’ll be lucky to live.

If you try me be warned, this is no game. If given the chance, I’ll drive you insane.
I’ll ravish your body, I’ll control your mind. I’ll own you completely, your soul will be mine. The nightmares I’ll give you while lying in bed. The voices you’ll hear from inside your head. The sweats, the shakes, the visions you’ll see, I want you to know, these are all gifts from me. But then it’s too late, and you’ll know in your heart, that you are mine, and we shall not part.

You’ll regret that you tried me, they always do. But you came to me, not I to you.
You knew this would happen, many times you were told, but you challenged my power and chose to be bold. You could have said no, and just walked away. If you could live that day over now, what would you say?
I’ll be your master, you’ll be my slave. I’ll even go with you…when you go to your grave.
Now that you have met me, what will you do? Will you try me or not? It’s all up to you.
I can bring you more misery than words can tell. Come take my hand, let me lead you to hell.” Signed, DRUGS (author unknown)

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I am not an addict.

But try and love one, and then see if you can look me square in the eyes and tell me that you didn’t get addicted to trying to fix them.
If you’re lucky, they recover. If you’re really lucky, you recover, too.
Loving a drug addict can and will consume your every thought. Watching their physical deterioration and emotional detachment to everything will make you the most tired insomniac alive.
You will stand in the doorway of their bedroom and plead with them that you “just want them back.” If you watch the person you love disappear right in front of your eyes long enough, you will start to dissolve too.

Those not directly affected won’t be able to understand why you are so focused on your loved one’s well-being, especially since, during the times of your family member’s active addiction, they won’t seem so concerned with their own.
Don’t become angry with these people. They do not understand. They are lucky to not understand. You’ll catch yourself wishing that you didn’t understand, either.
“What if you had to wake up every day and wonder if today was the day your family member was going to die?” will become a popular, not-so-rhetorical question.
Drug addiction has the largest ripple effect that I have ever witnessed firsthand.
It causes parents to outlive their children. It causes jail time and homelessness. It causes sisters to mourn their siblings. It causes nieces to never meet their aunts. It causes an absence before the exit.
You will see your loved one walking and talking, but the truth is, you will lose them far before they actually succumb to their demons; which, if they don’t find recovery, is inevitable.
Drug addiction causes families to come to fear a ringing phone or a knock on the door. It causes vague obituaries. I read the papers and I follow the news; and it is scary. “Died suddenly” has officially become obituary-speak for “another young person found dead from a drug overdose.”

Before I let you go, know this. I am here for you, ALWAYS. I am here for YOU. Not for your disease, but the you, I know hides deep down inside of the addict, somewhere. Whether you get clean by intervention, or you growing weary of the consequences, now that you’ll be dealing with them, or be it by divine intervention, this insanity will stop. If you ever thought it might be hard quitting drugs, my dear, you should try walking away from your child! I know we’ve both grown sick with this monster.

Drug addiction causes bedrooms and social media sites to become memorials. It causes the “yesterdays” to outnumber the “tomorrows.” It causes things to break; like the law, trust and homes.
Drug addiction causes statistics to rise and knees to fall, as praying seems like the only thing left to do sometimes.
People have a way of pigeonholing those who suffer from addiction. They call them “trash,” “junkies” or “criminals,” which is hardly ever the truth. Addiction is an illness. Addicts have families and aspirations.
You will learn that drug addiction doesn’t discriminate. It doesn’t care if the addict came from a loving home or a broken family.

Drug addiction doesn’t care if you are religious. Drug addiction doesn’t care if you are a straight-A student or a drop-out. Drug addiction doesn’t care what ethnicity you are. Drug addiction will show you that one decision and one lapse in judgment can alter the course of an entire life.
Drug addiction doesn’t care. Period. But you care.
You will learn to hate the drug but love the addict. You will begin to accept that you need to separate who the person once was with who they are now.
It is not the person who uses, but the addict. It is not the person who steals to support their habit, but the addict. It is not the person who spews obscenities at their family, but the addict. It is not the person who lies, but the addict.
And yet, sadly… it is not the addict who dies, but the person. (AUTHOR UNKNOWN)

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A Mother’s Heart

” I wish it wasn’t me who was writing this blog. I really wish it wasn’t. I wish I wasn’t handpicked because I have one of the “best handles” on this subject. I wish I wasn’t “qualified” to speak on the heroin epidemic that is a growing problem nationwide. I wish I wasn’t a member of a community no one really wants to be a part of. No one ever says to themselves while reading articles like mine, “I wish I could relate to this.”

But I am. I am the non-addict who knows all too well what it’s like to have an addict in the family.

I know what it’s like to worry yourself sick. To cry yourself to sleep. To stare at baby pictures. To check on them while they sleep to make sure they are still breathing.

I know what it’s like to be confused all of the damn time; to see their potential, to know what they are throwing away.

I know what it’s like to want their recovery more than they do. To be the one doing research on rehabs and other outlets for recovery.

I know what it’s like to miss someone who is still standing right in front of you.

I know what it’s like to wonder if each unexpected phone call is “the” phone call. I know what it’s like to be hurt so bad and be made so sick that part of you wishes you would just get “the” phone call if nothing is going to change. You want that finality. You need the cycle to end.

I know that it’s like to hate yourself for even allowing yourself to find relief in that horrible thought.

I know what it’s like to get the worst news of your life, and still walk into the grocery store and run your errands and smile at the cashier.

I know what it’s like to become a part-time detective. To snoop through drawers and email accounts. You know you are going to find something, and you look until you do just so you feel less crazy. So you can say to yourself, “I am not paranoid. This is happening again.”

I know what it’s like to have your mind clouded; to turn into a functioning zombie. I know what it’s like to be physically present at board meetings and dinner dates, but mentally gone.

I know what it’s like to stop caring about your own personal and professional life. My relationship took a backseat, Christ not even the backseat – I kicked him out of the car. I would show up to work not showered and with huge bags under my eyes. I would cry at my desk. Everything the outside world expected of me seemed frivolous if I couldn’t keep one of my most important people in my life out of harm’s way.

I know what it’s like to be really pissed off. Like, REALLY pissed the hell off. Between the sadness there is a lot of anger. I know what it’s like to feel guilty for being so mad, even knowing all you know about addiction. You are allowed to be angry. This is not the life you signed up for.

I know what it’s like to scour a bookshelf and not find what you are looking for because this illness is still so hard to talk about, let alone write about.

I know what it’s like to hear someone argue that addiction is not an illness, that it is a choice.

I know all too well that feeling of heat rising in your face as they go on and on about something they know nothing about.

I know what it’s like to stop becoming angry with these people. They do not understand. They are lucky to not understand. I know what it is like to catch yourself wishing that you didn’t understand either.

I know the difference between enabling and empowering. I know there is a fine line between the two and the difference can mean life or death. I know what it’s like to feel the weight of each day on your shoulders trying to balance the two.
I have been through enough to know that things don’t just change for the worse overnight; they can change in a millisecond. In a blink of an eye. As quick as it takes two people to make a $4 exchange.

I know what it’s like to feel stigmatized. To be the “cousin of a drug addict,” a “friend of a drug addict,” a “sibling of a drug addict,” “the mother of a drug addict.”
I know what it feels like to be handled with kid-gloves because no one outside of your toxic bubble knows what to say to help.

I don’t know what the future holds for anyone who loves an addict today. One thing I know for sure is I am not alone. I write often on addiction from the family’s perspective. My last article, Lessons I Learned from Loving a Drug Addict, went viral, being shared nearly 200,000 times on Facebook alone. My new essay series, The Other Side of Addiction, aims to help non-addicts and addicts alike share their story in a place free of judgment. They often feel voiceless, so I wanted to give them a voice.

I write on addiction because I want to let families of addicts of any substance know they are not alone. I write on addiction because for far too long many have felt isolated, hopeless and stigmatized by this illness.
Whether you realize it or not, each interaction with any article on this epidemic will help raise awareness about drug addiction and its direct effect on not only the addict, but the family. Together, we can chip away at the antiquated stereotypes attached to addiction.”

AUTHOR: ALICIA COOK reposted from www.thealiciacook.com

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My Dear Addicted Child,

I feel like I’m saying goodbye to you, and in a way, I suppose I am. I will always love you. I want the very best for you and I’m prepared to do the most unnatural thing, a mother can ever do. My minds screams, I’m abandoning you. Oh, I know you’re all grown up, but to me, you’ll always be my baby. That’s part of the problem. My nature is to protect you. I see you broken and despairing, and I am broken and despairing too. If you had cancer, or heart disease, I would fight tooth and nail to get you the care you need. In a strange way, this is me fighting. It’s the hardest fight I’ve ever fought. It would be far easier to stand at your hospital bed, knowing that what I was doing was helping you.

But there is no hospital bed. There is no cancer, or heart disease. What there is – is an insidious little secret – one that has grown into a horrible, ugly beast. It is devouring you alive, and me, along with it. I’ve watched this monster grow. I pleaded with it. I’ve coddled it. I’ve even nurtured it. I’ve done everything I can think of to make this THING go away, but it is relentless. I am left to face the truth. You my precious child, are an addict. An addict! Oh my God! I can barely say it. I feel sick. I HATE that word. And yet, it is true. Why does the truth have to be so hard? Even harder, is what I still have to do.

All my life I have watched over you and now I have to set you free. Not because I want too. Because I NEED to. It’s the only thing I can do, that might save your life. But the process may also end it. I’m told by other addicts and professionals, and other Mom’s who have gone before me, there is a far greater chance you will have success and get clean, if I do this. Almost always, this works. Believe me, almost, is nowhere near comforting enough. If I wasn’t sure, I was helping you to die, I would never choose this. But here I am, between a rock and hard place. With no good choices, only hard, and worse ones.

You’re not the only one who needs help. I do too. I promise you I will do everything that is asked of me, even if I think I’m going to hate every minute of it. I’ll do it, because I know if I do, you might. I promise not to ask you to do anything, that I won’t do. I would ask you to take care, but you will only smile and nod, and carry on as before. The words would only make me feel better. They’re of no use to you. So instead, I shall give you to God. I don’t know who else to trust with you. I’ll wrap you in your favourite baby blanket. The one you dragged behind you until it was nothing but rags. I will pray for you and for me. I will pray that we both have the strength to do the next right thing, even, when it feels so wrong.

Go with God, my dear sweet child. May we both find peace.

Love Mom. By Lorelie Rozzano

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