A ~ Assemble a Support Group

In order to do this we have to first get the words out of our mouth…

Help! I am the mother, father, brother, sister, husband, wife of an addict.  With that finally out in the open we can find the support, encouragement and even accountability we will need to walk the path of our Recovery.   

Allison says it best in her Book when she says: 

(pg 111) “As the first step of stopping our enabling behavior is being implemented, enjoying the support of others is crucial. Parents in pain need support; understanding, encouragement and accountability from others who have traveled this painful journey and come out on the other side – or those who are currently walking the journey with us… (pg 116) Many parents have grown accustomed to maintaining a kind of silent shame about the circumstances and issues surrounding their adult children.  Assembling a support group is the last thing we want.  Yet is one of the first things we must do to gain strength in a season of life that will most certainly require every ounce of fortitude we can muster”

I think this is one of my favorite components of the Sanity principals.   If I had stayed alone in my pain over being the mother of an addict I don’t know where I’d be today.  I am blessed to have an amazing support group, and I strongly believe that each of us needs this more than we are willing to admit. 

Mine consists of:

My husband; a man who loves me with every fiber of his being and has unselfishly love my son (his step son) even though many times he was the target of the theft that occurred due to my son’s need for more drugs.  My man has held we when I have cried, cheered me on as I got stronger and never once stopped me from seeking other support and help.

I have some very dear girl friends that though they do not have an addict in the family, they have had my back.  We would meet once a week for dinner and it was at one of these dinner times that one of them handed me Allison’s book.  These women have directed me, encouraged me, asked some hard questions; like… “How long are going to keep doing that”.  My dearest and best friend Gayle (read her blog here)has helped me dig deep inside of myself and often has encouraged me to place it all in the hands of God.  The one who knows my son and loves him even more then I do.

And along the way I have met another parent of an addict, (read his blog here)  who is a few years ahead of me on this journey.  His wisdom and forthrightness has helped push me forward, and has helped me believe in myself.  And has been a model of what this Journey can bring, with its twists, turns, valleys and joys.

I urge you, Assemble a group of people around you.  You will need them on your Journey to Recovery, put aside your fears and shame.  Stop worrying about what other people will think of you when you tell them…

 “I need help, I’m the _________ of an addict.

S ~ Stop the Enabling

Getting hit with the reality of being an enabler was a pretty hefty blow to this mother’s heart.  Never would I have put myself willingly into that category.  Being the mother of an addict is one of the most difficult things I have endeavored.  Reading Allison’s book (and re-reading it) has literally brought me out the darkness of enabling.

I have met many parents and loved ones whose hearts have been ripped out by addiction, who also walk the path of enabling on the way to their own Recovery.  Each of us believes with all our heart that we will be the one to save our addict, to save them from drugs, from themselves and from the shunning of the family and their peers.  We believe what we are doing is keeping them safe, fed, a roof over their head.  When in fact what it is doing is feeding the addiction. If we are truthful it’s feeding both ours (our addiction to our addict) and theirs

Leslie Vernick, author of "The Emotionally Destructive Relationship" says it best:

“Fear grabs us when we think that if we say no, our adult child will make a worse mess of his or her life, and we will have to live with the pain and/or shame of those consequences.  Guilt motivates us because we often feel that somehow we failed our adult child because of something we did or didn’t do when they were younger.”

I had to admit that one of the reasons I enabled was because I was afraid of what others thought about me as a parent.  I thought if I hid the fact that my son was an addict, if I helped him look like a regular adult child, I wouldn’t have to bare the shame.  It became about hiding the truth.  Somehow I believed that giving him money, a place to live, clothes etc. would help hide the fact that he was a heroin addict. 

By enabling him, I was a dance partner in the mess and chaos of his addiction.  Every time I gave him money, allowed him to live in my home while he was doing drugs, I was joining him on the dance floor.  Both of us trying to lead the other in a different direction. 

When we begin to recognize we are enabling and we find it in ourselves to STOP and start applying it to our addict’s life, know that it will get ugly for a while.  They will rebel against it; there will be chaos that will ensue. They will find themselves alone on the dance floor and will do all they can to manipulate you back out onto the floor.  But know this… our doing this, our stopping our enabling and our refusing to take part in the dance, it will force them to see they no longer have a dance partner; they will be in their addiction mess alone.    

When we STOP enabling it begins to “raise the bottom”, no longer will we have to wait for them to “hit bottom”, we can become part of what helps them get there quicker.  And that bottom will be where Recovery can begin.  

Sanity

As I have now walked this road of Recovery as a parent of an addict, I have held fast to the Sanity Principles in Allison Bottke’s Book; “Setting Boundaries with Your Adult Children”. 

Last winter I did a four part series on her book. (this linkwill bring you to them). And I thought it was time to go back and write about each of the Sanity Principles and what they have looked like in my life.

Over the next two weeks I will put out 6 blogs, I hope you will join me.   

Something’s Happening to Me

When my son was about 3 years old our family spent the weekend in the Poconos at a lovely resort. We were there for part business, part family fun. The condo we stayed in had a Jacuzzi Room. The kids couldn’t wait to try out that HUGE tub.

On our first night there I ran the water for them to take a “bath”. I added a bit of shampoo for bubbles and turned the jets on. My two daughters ran to change into swimsuits to bathe with their three year old brother, but my son climbed right in. Not much time had passed when I heard a small voice coming from the Jacuzzi room…

“Something’s happening to me… something’s happening to me”.

I walked into the room to find my three year old standing in the tub with bubbles up to about his ears. It was a preciously funny site. I have told and retold that story many times over the years. It always hit me what a profound statement that was for a child to utter regarding his surroundings.

Fast forward 21 years, my son, now nearly 24, and the profoundness of that statement hits me yet again as I watch him work toward his recovery. Not 70 days ago my son was actively using a mix of drugs that quite frankly should have killed him. Today, I see a young man changing before my eyes. Something is happening to him… never before in this winding, difficult journey of active addiction and clean days have I seen such a change. There is something drastically different.

This weekend we were at a family gathering, celebrating my sisters 50th birthday. She is much loved by all of my children. My son wanted to be there, I wanted him to be there. I knew there would be drinking and I warned my son of such.

He told me “mom I’m good don’t worry, I know I can’t go there”. In the past he would have laughed it off, insisted he could drink and for me to mind my own business.
This was so different… there was a steadiness about his response that I wasn’t expecting, but was thrilled with its existence.

As the party progressed, a few people there over indulged, people my son has looked up to over the years. I watched my son pull away from them and spend his time playing and swimming with the younger cousins, even starting a football game.

I took it all in, watching this man/child break away from his addictive habits of the past. In my mind’s eye I could hear again that little voice “something’s happening to me, something’s happening to me”. This time it’s not about being covered in bubbles, it’s about walking further down the road of his recovery, a few steps more than he’s ever been before.

Doors

Doors are meant as a means of access. When a door is opened, access to what lies on the other side can take place. One must open the door to access what lies on the other side of it.

This past Thursday I went through many doors as I waited to finally see my son after 60 days of separation/incarceration due to his relapse into active addiction.

As I left my house I prepared myself before I even opened the door to go. I knew there would be the possibility that he may refuse the next step. Our last conversation was good and he seemed confident in taking the step, but I had no clue what had taken place in his mind since then. I prepared my heart and my mind for the possibility, knowing I would have to stand firm in the event that would happen. Home would NOT be an option. Before I opened the door of my home to head to the court house… My resolve had to be in place.

Opening the door to get into my car meant I was heading to see him. I was choosing to move toward him, to place myself in a vulnerable situation where my heart could be broken. I have promised him that as long as he is moving toward recovery I would move toward him. I will not participate in his active addiction, but I will be there to support him in recovery.

Once at the court house I went through several doors, each moving me closer to the reality of seeing him for the first time in 60 days, each door bringing me closer to the reality of his freedom. I waited inside the courtroom, sitting on the edge of my seat for just even a glimpse of him each time they opened the sliding wall partition that separated the prisoners from the courtroom. Finally they called his name and the sliding portioned opened. There he stood, peering over the shoulder of his attorney scanning the room for my presence. Briefly our eyes connected, but his attention snapped to the judge who asked him to raise his right hand.

Even though I had been told by his attorney how this would play out, there was that moment of doubt as the judge pondered the request. My son standing with ear bent to the whole cut in the glass waiting to hear the judges words, me sitting with my ear inclined toward the judge. Would he go along with the Probation officer and attorney or would this door be closed. My greatest fear was that the judge would not grant the freedom necessary to move through the door that was waiting for my son, and the wall partition would close, leaving my son broken behind that wall. While he was in jail, the necessary doors just wouldn’t open for him to move forward in his recovery and I was half expecting the same.

As the judge finally granted his freedom, the wall partition did close, but I was directed to a new door. One in which my son would walk out a free man, free to pursue the New Door that was waiting for him. As I walked (half ran) down the four (double) flights of stairs I praised God for the New opportunity that lays waiting for my son (if he chose to walk through the door).

I sat on the bench in the hall for what seemed like an eternity, I talked to a friend on the phone to help me pass the time, constantly checking my watch. The attorney said 10 – 15 minutes, it had been 17… finally there coming down the stairs was my son, freshly shaven, trimmed hair with a wide smile. We hugged, tears welled up in my eyes. It was so good to see him, clean, free from the affects of opiates.

As we walked out of the door of the Court house I looked at my freed son and said… Are you ready for the next step…

He looked at me for a few moments and I thought for sure he was going to give me a song and dance with a new concocted plan, but he smiled and said

“can we just get coffee first”.

We drove to the nearest Coffee shop where he woofed down a breakfast sandwich and ice coffee in record time… then we went on our way to the Door that had been opened by the very hand of God.

I did not sense one moment’s hesitation in my son, each step of the process as we walked through the door, were shown around the house and as we went through the interview I sensed a relief in my son…that this door just might be the place where he can begin to put his addiction to rest.

Many doors will open and close in our lives, some doors will be more weighty then others. But in order for any door to make a difference it must be opened, so that we gain access to what lies inside and allow it to change our lives.

An Unexpected Door

After nearly 60 days of being incarcerated; on Thursday my son will be “free”. His words tonight were “I’m scared”. He has never been fond of the unknown. Thursday he will stand on a new step, standing before a door that has literally been opened by the hand of God.

Up until Monday morning we had no clue where he would land after being in jail. We have tried so many doors to see if this would be the one or that… which one would open in time so his feet would barely hit the street. Each time we thought he had found a spot the door would close shut. Unable to be open by human hands. No matter what I did on my end, or he on his, the door just would not budge.

Neither of us knowing that what God has instore was exceedingly and abundantly more than we ever asked for or hoped for. (Eph 3:20) A door opened, and it was a door that neither of us knew existed. A small program, one that believes in mentoring, one built on the foundation of faith in God… its door opened. Not because of anything I did, or my son did. It opened because God himself opened it.

Now my son will walk through it, afraid… but committed to walk through it none the less. Yesterday when the door opened, along with it the flood gate of tears that I have held back for quiet sometime came with it. And those tears lifted praise to the heavens, for it was from those heavens an unknown door was opened…
It is with hope I wait to see what God has in store for my son on the other side of that door and what life lessons we will both gain in the wait.

Tough Love/It’s a Process

There is so much about Recovery that is a Process. At no time can we the parents/loved one or our addict (or our addicts for that matter) claim “We have Arrived”. That we (or they) have come to the place of walking perfectly in our Recovery. Not on this side of Heaven will we ever find perfection.

I was reminded of this last night as the topic of conversation turned to “Tough Love”. It’s time we realized it’s named that for a reason. It’s TOUGH.
Just look at some of the synonyms for the word Tough: rough, hard, harsh, dangerous, hard-hitting, strong, sturdy.

Just looking at that list you would think that “Tough Love” has to be an oxymoron. (a phrase in which two words of contradictory meaning are used together for special effect) Tough and Love completely contradict each other. Especially in our nurturing minds (ok hearts), it’s supposed to be soft, tender, caring, giving.

The question was asked “how do I change the way I love? I don’t know how to do it all at once”.

Oh how I wish we could… it would have saved this mother of an addict thousands of dollars, numerous items, precious time and sleep. I wish there was a switch somewhere in my heart that I could just flip and ‘wha-la’ Tough Love is produced.

But the truth is, there is no switch.

There is no easy way to put it into practice. In order to Love tough, we need to stop thinking that love is just a “feeling”. It is so much more than that. Love is an action word, it requires something from us. It will mean that we will have to stop thinking about our feelings or our addict’s feelings and love in such a way that it will bring our addict to the place of seeing Recovery as the only option. That will never happen if we keep supplying all their needs and wants and paying their bills.

When they were toddlers, and were beginning to learn to walk, we walked behind them holding on to their hands.

But the day had to come when we set their back against the sofa and took a number of steps away from them and held our hands out… and waited. At first they would plop down and crawl over to you all smiles and giggles. And we’d pick them back up and place their back against the sofa again… and we’d wait.

Before long they would take that first step and then another and before you knew it they were running up and down the hall. This is one of the simplest of explanations of Tough love. Had we continued to hold their hands… walking alone may have never happened. It took our putting our feelings aside that they would fall and maybe hit their head and put their back against the sofa and wait.

Learning to walk is a process, as is Tough love. We parents who have admitted to enabling have held their hands far too long and letting them stand there with their backs against the sofa (so to speak) and begin the process of walking on their own will take our letting go of our feelings, stepping back and waiting.