Category Archives: Hope

“In the Rooms”

Hope Mountain SmallI live in a small coastal town near a small city in South Carolina.  We are bound by the ocean to the east and rural areas to the west and south.  There is one NarAnon group in the city and no others anywhere within reach – not for us and not for the smaller towns and cities in surrounding counties.

I work in a women’s recovery house and sometimes the parents call – especially the moms. Due to HIPAA, our privacy regulations are extensive and I usually cannot tell the parents any details about how their daughter is doing.  I talked to one mom who was sobbing on the other end of the phone, “What do I do? Will it ever be better?”  I was heartbroken.

I want to create a resource for parents but I don’t know how that looks yet.  In the meantime, I’ve discovered a website called “In the Rooms.”  I just joined and it looks great. You can attend a video NarAnon meeting, participate in meditation sessions, chat with other people and even get a sponsor.  If you have never checked it out, I recommend that you do. And if you’re there, look for me, “One Mom Talking.”

Lastly, if you have suggestions about how to build a program or network for parents, especially in rural areas, please share!

God bless!

 

Love Wins!

Love WinsWishing you all a very blessed Easter.

I know it doesn’t feel blessed to many of you. Five years ago today, at this time (7:15AM), I was in a police station learning that my boys had been using heroin at a party.  It’s amazing to me that Easter is the anniversary of this journey for me. No wonder I’ve been tense these past few days.

But now – I’m off to church. Know you are all in my prayers. Know that Love Wins – if not in this life, then in the Great Beyond. Easter is our reminder that there’s more to life than what we can see. And that death holds no power over the beautiful spirit of life in all of us. LOVE has already won. Amen.

 

Entombed

closed tomb

I once read that the stone which covered the entry to Jesus’ tomb would have weighed 1-2 tons.  Let’s be cautious – let’s err on the light side and imagine it was just under one ton.  Let’s, for the sake of argument, say it only weighed 1,750 pounds.

One thousand seven hundred and fifty pounds.

Addiction.

Entombed.

The effect of addiction on me, on my children, on my whole family…
on your child, on you, on your whole family…
this is the weight of a stone that we cannot roll away in our own strength.

Come to me,
all you who are weary and burdened,
and I will give you rest.
 29
Take my yoke upon you and learn from me,
for I am gentle and humble in heart,
and you will find rest for your souls.
 30
For my yoke is easy
and my burden is
light.

Matthew 11:28-30

Take this cup…

Have you ever wished you could blossom into your beautiful life without first being planted into the cold, dark ground?

Have you ever wished you could blossom into your beautiful life without having to break through the shell that surrounds your heart?

Have you ever wished you could blossom into your beautiful life without having to feel the pain of the push up through the heavy soil?  Without suffering?  Without ever being so fully human?

 Then, accompanied by the disciples,
Jesus left the upstairs room and went as usual to the Mount of Olives.
There he told them,
“Pray that you will not give in to temptation.”

 He walked away, about a stone’s throw, and knelt down and prayed,
“Father, if you are willing,
please take this cup of suffering away from me.
Yet I want your will to be done, not mine.”

Then an angel from heaven appeared and strengthened him. 
He prayed more fervently, and he was in such agony of spirit 
that his sweat fell to the ground like great drops of blood.

Luke 22:39-44

Peace and Now

You are nowYou’ve heard of “peace and quiet.”  I suggest we change the phrase to “peace and now.”  Now is quiet – maybe not outside of us, but internally…spiritually.  At the core of who we truly are, now is silent and cannot be altered.

Sounds too easy?  It is and it’s not.  I’m reading Eckhart Tolle’s “The Power of Now,” and I’m in a  section toward the back of the book titled, “Give Up the Relationship with Yourself.”  What? Isn’t our recovery about RECOVERING our own relationship with ourselves. It’s the same thing. Just roll with it for a minute and I’ll do my best to explain.

It’s this idea: “If you develop a sense of identity based on your [victimhood, loss, recovering-parenthood, etc.] you have escaped one trap only to fall into another.”  (That’s a direct quote from the book except for the parens).  This is because any identity other than your pure essence (some might say “God”) is frought with some earthly or ego-centered frailty at one point or another.

Here’s the peace in NOW:  Right now I am this breathing body filled with the spirit of life.  If, tomorrow, I experience a trauma and my mind/body experiences intense pain of some sort or another, at any given moment I am still this breathing body filled with the spirit of life.  What I’m trying to get to is this question (which we’ve discussed before in a different context): How do you identify yourself?  I’m thinking that the answer to this question begins any person’s true recovery.

I’m really just thinking through this “out loud” here on this screen.  But I’m experiencing access to an always-accessible quiet of “Peace and Now” lately. And this time it’s not just because my boys are in full recovery – because one of them had a relapse recently.  He had a relapse and I started to re-identify with my “parent-of-addict-filled-with-fear-and-worry” self again. But I was reading this book, and I find I’m changing a bit in my ability to … as A Course in Miracles says … “See things differently.”

Please know I’m not lecturing or making light of where you are, what you’ve been through, or what you’re feeling.  I’m just sharing an idea that might help others as it’s helping me today. Right now. God bless you.

Letting It All Out

I only have a few minutes, but I did want to write about this: I had a knock-down, drag-’em-out, screamfest with my daughter two nights ago.  I mean a cussing, yelling, door slamming, and crying kind of thing.

Finally, she opened up a bit. It hurt, but it was healthy. She told me, point blank, how I dropped the parenting-ball during the years when my boys were starting to party.  She said that me and her dad both turned a blind eye to what was happening in our own homes – and in doing so, we failed her as parents. And we failed the boys too.  She said that she raised herself during the years when it was worse.  And then she said, “So check it out, Mom — this is me leaving the nest!!”

In the end though – like the story of grief I posted a couple of days ago – when it was all said and heard and understood – things were a little better.  She gave me a real hug for the first time in a year. And we both agreed that if this type of interaction is necessary now and then for us to communicate honestly with each other about hard things, then it is. And we’ll get through it.

I’m sad for her, and for me, and for us.  We’ve all lost a lot.  And the truth is, she is right about what she’s saying.  But she also has things to learn … about forgiveness, and the choice of love, and how families can heal.  So we keep on walking.

One Mom Talking – signing off for today. Make it a good one!

A Mother’s Day Update

First things first:  I want to wish all you Moms out there a wonderful, restful, peaceful, loving Mother’s Day!  Even when I’m not showing up here on the Blogs, I keep you all in my prayers. 

Update:  Life has been busy, that’s for sure.  And things are looking up these days for my family…

  • DAN is doing GREAT!  Last month I went to visit Colorado, saw the judge, got the restraining order lifted and, for the first time in eight months, got to spend time with Dan.  I gave him so many hugs!  He’s being promoted in his job and planning to apply to college for the fall.  I know that an addict can slip at any time, but I’ve allowed myself to fully accept Dan’s recovery right now.  He looks fantastic,  has a great outlook on life, and is succeeding in all his programs.  It’s amazing how a life can turn around in God’s hands.  Amen.
  • AL has 80 days clean!  He is still looking for work, but he has also managed to stay in his sober living home and manage his life.  He’s had some bumps in the road, but as far as I know they’ve not included using.  I still worry about him a little … but each time we talk my worry lessens.  It almost seems too good to be true that both boys are in recovery mode and staying there.
  • LYNN is starting to open up.  She asked me if she could go to church with me tomorrow — first time since we moved last July!  I’m so happy.  We’ve been getting along better.  And she did really well on her ACT exam for college. 

What else can I say?  I’m working two jobs – which is a little nutsy – but I’m also getting back on my financial feet somewhat.  I’m doing a 13-week program at my church “Financial Peace University.”  It’s time to put that piece of my life in place.  In the meantime, the warm weather is settling in here in South Carolina, and an hour on the beach today did a lot to calm my over-active brain.  Now prayer and sleep, and a new day tomorrow.

God bless your Mother’s Day!

Every Day = New Years Day

Happy New Year, everyone.  I sincerely hope that 2011 brings healing, spiritual renewal, and a deep sense of serenity into your lives and the lives of those you love.

As much as I want to detest 2010 (as if a time period has meaning and character all its own), today I gratefully report that 2010 ends (and 2011 begins) with both of my boys in recovery.  I do feel deeply grateful.  I’d like to say that I feel Joyful — but that would be dishonest. 

My melancholy comes partly from needing more time to trust the recovery my sons have committed to, and partly from my own continued need to heal from the addiction that turned our family upside down … and moreso, my daughter’s need to heal, which she has yet to acknowledge.  We have an appointment for a mental health evaluation on January 4.  I am grateful for that.  I’ve been out of work since July and we have no insurance.  Luckily the county we are in has this program for high school students, and so we are getting hooked in. 

All this to say that this year, I take “New Years Day” with a grain of salt.  I’ve returned to Al Anon (which I didn’t do much of last year) and what I’m learning is that every day is New Years Day.  Every day is an opportunity to accomplish whatever we can, to be the best we can be, to encourage those we love, to start over if we’ve erred, to find gratitude, to love ourselves, to pray for a new start. 

During 2010, I spent a lot of time trying to decide who is sick and who is well and who is responsible for what … I’ve let that all go.  On this fun date of 1/1/11, for today, I’m not playing the blame game.  I’m not going to try to analyze my daughter.  I’m not going to try to analyze myself.  I’m going to tell all my children I love them, bake some corn bread, take down the Christmas decorations, and rest.  

One of my Al Anon friends gave me this prayer:  “God, bless [him, her, them] and change me.”   I’m going to stop being like Calvin in this comic, and admit my need for change.  This is my prayer today.

Every day is New Years Day.  Thanks for being here, everyone.  You true blessings in my life, whatever the date may be.

Rebirth

 This is a photo I took here in South Carolina.  My new home.  It is a symbol, though, of all rebirth for me and my family.  Especially for Dan.

The bigget news:  Dan gave his life to Christ after being ministered to in jail by a visiting Bible Study leader.  Now, he is out on probation living with his dad.  He’s been clean (except for one slip) since May.  But clean now for 28 days outside of jail, by his own choice and because – he will tell you – of the power of God that lives in him.  He reads the bible daily, goes to church, meets weekly with the pastor, and has met a group of students from a local college who meet for study and fellowship together.  PRAISE GOD!! 

I am not allowed to talk to Dan on the phone, or to visit him in person.  The restraining order set in place back in May is still in effect.  The judge won’t lift it until I am able to go to Colorado and meet with her in court.  I don’t know when that will happen.  But I am sure it will happen exactly when it’s supposed to.  In the meantime, Dan and I write letters to each other.  It’s a wonderful, underused way of communication.  He can tell me about his life, uninterrupted, and I can do the same.  We are getting to know each other in a way we might not have otherwise. 

He says, “Mom, I am growing up now.  And you have your own journey.  Do what you need to do.  I love you!”  What more could a mother ask for?

The Long Road Home

A fellow Blogger, whose sister struggles with opiate addiction, recently reflected on her own history of drug use.  It got me thinking.  I feel so far removed from those days, having walked that long road home a long time ago.

I didn’t use the hard drugs, I tend to say.  Truth is, I didn’t use them very often.  And I never touched a needle, never smoked crack, never went near heroine.  But that doesn’t make me better than anyone who has.

I drank, heavily, almost every night.  And I smoked pot as early as 7:30AM on the ferry ride to Manhattan…on lunch break…on the ferry home…and again that night.  Here and there I tried other drugs as well, mostly in those college years.

Here’s the best timeline, as far as my memory will take me:

  • Had my first drink at a friend’s Sweet 16 pary.  I was almost 17 at the time.  I didn’t get heavy into drinking for awhile.
  • Started smoking pot and drinking more heavily the summer after I graduated high school.  Toward the end of that summer, I was the victim of a violent crime, and that pushed me over the edge, I think, from occasional use of marijuana and alcohol, to regular abuse — as ways to block the pain.
  • I was introduced to “Magic Mushrooms” — hallucinogenics — in freshman year of college.
  • Summer after that: speed, hash, and cocaine.
  • Second year of college brought acid … LSD.  This was the 70s.  It’s what we had.  I found it interesting, but scary, and only tried it three times total.

I didn’t use any of these drugs frequently, and my experimentation lasted only a few years, total.  I was too afraid — and rightly so.  I felt like I was already on the edge of sanity in those years and had no desire to push myself beyond that point.   The alcohol was the hardest to kick, many, many years later.  Now, I have one or two drinks once or twice a week.  Sometimes less.  Never more. 

The difference between me and my addict son?  Maybe a chromosome?  Some random difference in brain chemistry?  I’m sorry he is an addict.  I’m sorry he has such a long road home.  I found my way.  I try to have faith that he’ll find his.