Hi – I’m Anne and I’m the mother of an addict, an amazing, incredible addict. If you think people in recovery are lazy, dumb, worthless criminals, then think again. Wake up every day and say to yourself, “ One day at a time. I can survive this intense craving. I will not give in. I will dig myself out of this hole. I will attend a meeting. I will find a friend to support me. How can I avoid the many triggers that will light up my brain to use? When will my brain ever feel “normal” again? Why has my brain turned against me? I’m so tired of fighting this constantly. I just feel like giving up. Nobody really cares anyway.”
Dealing with addiction is like trying to outrun demons. The faster you run away from them the faster they run toward you. If you’ve managed to stay clean, the demons are doing push-ups and waiting, waiting. Christopher was exhausted outrunning the demons every minute of his day. His own body was at war with him. He could be at home anywhere in the world, but not in his own mind. Life is at its hardest when the mind is at war with itself.
How does addiction start and why do drugs grab some so fiercely that they crave it like water on a hot August day? In my adolescent son’s case, it was a mixture of a brain hardwired for drugs and depression, a lack of sufficient dopamine to promote wellness, combined with risk-taking peers, an immature brain and a lack of support during his darkest times. His depression was a tough one to deal with because he needed to take medicine to correct the chemical imbalance in his brain. So it was a constant pull of take drugs to treat clinical depression, but don’t take the drugs that will kill you but take you out of your depression. I don’t think any other disease is quite like that. He found heroin before anti-depressants found him. He thought he’d hit the jackpot, but he was just opening Pandora’s box to years of suffering leading to his death.
How do you deal with your addiction? First and foremost, please forgive yourself. After forgiveness, learn to love yourself, proudly be you. Don’t conform to someone else’s idea of who you should be. Follow your heart’s calling. I used to give Christopher pep talks on how gifted and special he was. His response was, “You’re my mom so you have to say that.” But really, he was. He had more compassion and ability to reach other human beings than anyone else I’ve ever met.
After forgiveness, help others. Christopher was the master of reaching out to anyone, anytime, for any reason. Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “It is one of the beautiful compensations of this life that no man can sincerely try to help another without helping himself.” My Boo, as I called Christopher since he was a toddler, had such a desire to reach out to others. At the beginning of his adulthood, he was building a successful massage therapy career with his beautiful, healing hands and his tender heart. Even in the hospital, hooked up to too many useless machines, his hands were perfect.
To further build your strength to fight addiction, you must also accept responsibility – own up to your mistakes – Christopher understood this and sought to reassure us that fighting addiction was his problem and no one else was to blame. That is a great life lesson for all of us – take 100% responsibility.
Seek out and study mindfulness and meditation. These are two powerful tools that can help you to take it “One Day at a Time” and bring clarity to your thoughts. When I was around 13, I put a quote on my dry-erase board that I kept for years as part of my meditation as a teenager. It read, “Don’t pray for an easy life, pray to be a strong person.” I never imagined how that would be put to the test.
When a child is suffering, Mama is suffering too. For over six long years we struggled together with so many visits to doctors and administrators, so many visits from the police, so many times watching the physical pain ravish your brain, deceptions, attacks and rehabs. I have listened to Mary J. Blige over and over as she sings, “I’m so tired. No more drama in my life, I’m not going to hurt again.” My only peace is knowing that you are no longer suffering.
I hang on to the moments when we could feel fully free. Just the two of us riding 4–wheelers in the desert of Southern Utah or driving through the rain forest of Puerto Rico with the top down, singing Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody, bobbing our heads violently. Or the brief freedom we felt, along with Ginny, on our trip to Key West, driving our rented convertible from Miami over the 40+ bridges of the Florida Keys, exhilarated by the healing water and sky all around us.
After your stay in Utah, I arranged to get the pug puppy that I promised you. You, Ginny, Ty and I piled into my Pathfinder on a glorious Saturday to meet a simple, old country man much like your Pappy in the parking lot of a McDonald’s just outside of Front Royal. He opened the back of his little hatchback and there was an adorable litter of pug puppies – heaven! You chose the healthiest and cutest one in the bunch and insisted on naming him “Manly”. I paid for him in cash and we headed for home. As you sat in the passenger seat, riding shotgun next to me and snuggling your new puppy, you remarked, “That was sketchy!”
My last visit with you was just a few weeks before your death at a group family therapy session. As I was getting ready to leave, I hugged you and you gave me one of your best big bear hugs. I said, “I love you” and you said, “I love you too.” We both knew the pain you were feeling. Life felt so incredibly fragile.
For now, the greatest comfort for me is just to be, no words needed. The American poet, Philip Levine, expressed the idea of silence in one of his poems, “He Would Never Use One Word Where None Would Do”.
At the end of it, he writes:
Fact is, silence is the perfect water:
unlike rain it falls from no clouds
to wash our minds, to ease our tired eyes,
to give heart to the thin blades of grass
fighting through the concrete for even air
dirtied by our endless stream of words.
My last thought comes from my dear friend Onalie Arts, a massage therapist in Massachusetts who practiced at one time in Great Falls, Virginia. She shared this with me in a letter:
“Today may there be peace within. May you trust that you are exactly where you are meant to be. May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith in yourself and others. May you use the gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you. May you be content with yourself just the way you are. Let this knowledge settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love. It is there for each and every one of us."
I think this is what Christopher, my precious son, would have wanted for this world.
