It’s been a bit since I’ve been able to put words down in expression. Perhaps the untimely death of a loved one subdued my heart and mind. The stop light flashed a dark red, and I hit the brakes through grief. Engraved in my memory forever, those four days of the end of life changed me.
Or, maybe the loss of all communication with my loved one battling addiction has silenced my soul. Screams ring out soundless and broken. From the depths of places long buried in the pain come deep sorrows and longings.
There was a time when I thought my love would be enough to turn this around. Then came the moment I realized my powerless attempts couldn’t change a thing. Next came acceptance of having no control to save someone spiraling down a personal path of destruction.
Addiction took me on and won. Losing miserably, I’ve struggled since. Life goes on, they say. Stuck between living and feeling dead sometimes, I stumble on, but I am not alone. Many parents live lost in this drug-infested epidemic.
Long ago, I chose to walk away from the battle with another’s addiction. The fight was never mine. However, I fought long and hard to extract it from our lives. I love my daughter fiercely, but I had to release my hold. Addiction beckoned, and her arms were outstretched, grasping at the poison. Yanking at the bottom threads on the other side, I lost my grip.
I wanted to lock her up, toss the key, and force sobriety. I wanted the joy of family, children, being together, family trips, anything to be a driving force toward recovery. I fear it only drove a severe divide. It felt like we were the poison in her life.
My heart cries dry tears in the aftermath of the war. Alone, I close my eyes and visit the past. Considering the joy in the memories, I question if it was real. Were our ‘good times’ good? There were two lives; the other one still exists. Ours, extinguished.
The distance is far beyond the horizon now. I could not follow evil further into the mess. I love no matter what, however, boundaries now exist and are interpreted as unloved.
Love is not conditional; connection is. Why? The aftermath of addiction is far too explosive not only to the one it infests but to anyone in its path. My mental and physical health will not be collateral damage. Neither will innocent children. Period.
Those two reasons drew the line in the sand. Sadly, that line became the Great Wall of China.
The new battle cry in family addiction is connection, connection, connection. Leaving loved ones feeling guilty for taking their lives back. It puts unbelievable pressure on families everywhere to carry this burden forever.
I suggest there are no perfect answers to this tragedy.
One friend chose distance, the other chose connection- both of their children lost the battle and passed away from fentanyl and heroin overdoses. One addict says stay connected, one says let us fall into our rock bottom. Nothing is proven.
You never know what will work for them, but you must be aware of what works for you.
I’d be happiest hearing from my loved one and knowing they are alive. So would thousands of other parents. We function in living grief, wondering the fate of our beloved children.
As families fall silent through the loss that hits over and over, be patient. Allow them to process and mourn. Death isn’t the only sting in this journey; it’s only the final one. The day-to-day emptiness is heavy.
Though God tells us not to worry, this situation will bring it on. He doesn’t always provide the answers. The free will of humanity exists, so answers are unpredictable. When dealing with the broken mind of someone in addiction, unpredictability is inevitable.
Will I ever feel like me again? I don’t know. But I can come and release the truth in all its fury. Writing therapy is good medicine. Even if it only helps for a moment.
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