A Time To Heal

As a parent, guardian or caretaker, loving a person of addiction, or any chronic illness, is so depleting. We lose ourselves, our money, our time, our focus … our joy. When we see our person in the grasp of addiction (or a life threatening illness)…fear, worry, pain and sorrow enters and settles into our world. 

Our lives become a devastating nightmare, we become depleted.

We have lost focus on ourselves because our loved one became our focus. As a parent, guardian or caretaker, we have tried hard to make them better. We didn’t understand what addiction is. We’ve been programmed to think that somehow our loved one’s addiction is our fault….our genes, our not paying attention, our lack of…of something.

Through the process we learn about this very real illness and it is heart breaking. We have struggled to understand co-dependency and enabling, and the reasons why they chose to lie, steal, yell and give up on themselves. 

And now, whether our loved one is successfully in recovery, has so sadly died or we have realized that the point has come for us to take care of our own lives or we too will cease to fulfill our purpose, we know that our story must change. Reality has set in and we have reached a point that emotionally, financially, career-wise there is very little left for us to give…even to ourselves. Shame and guilt has become our new family, our way of existence and we understand we must heal ourselves. 

My story is about my journey with my child who became an addict. My story does not end with my addict son, now my purpose is to help others heal while I to continue my healing process. I have termed it, “A Time To Heal”.

“He’s young and strong, he has that on his side. We don’t know if he’ll make it through the night. It’s midnight. Go home and get some rest, there is nothing more you can do.”

I was back by 6:30 am, the time given when the doctors would begin waking him from the induced coma. I stood next to the doctor and we both watched, patiently as he was still deep in a state of unconsciousness. Consumed with the terror that 45 minutes of grand mal seizure may have destroyed his brain, all I could do was pray.

After a while I started telling the doc the story of his tattoo. Fours years earlier this damn kid drove me crazy by insisting I get him one to make up for me ripping him away from school and friends in No. Va. I held strong, it was illegal to allow a minor to get a tattoo, and told him at 18 he could do what he wanted. 

The day after his 18th birthday we were at my sister-in-laws restaurant in Atlanta, there was a tattoo parlor next door. My brother had no problem letting my son know this. Damn. So that was it, he was getting a tattoo. I asked him what kind. He said my initials. What? Please, think about it, I’ll even come back down here with you. Nope, that was what he was getting, on his chest, over his heart, because I raised him and deserved that honor. So we went in and I sat beside him.

At the time of this story telling to the doctor my son was 55% conscious and still could not independently move, talk…breath. When I got to the end of my story, my son had a strained look on his face as he was struggling to lift his tied down body. “Look”, the doc said, “he hears you and is trying to smile.”

At that moment I knew he was going to get through the seizure and coma. I didn’t know what was in front of us. I wish someone could have told me, warned me, helped me to understand how critical my son’s situation was. But what I learned very quickly was that my son had become an addict to opioids and I had been in denial. It was years later that I knew I too needed recovery from all of the pain and heartache.

I dream of bringing others along this journey of wholeness. So many have experienced tradegy and lost themselves while trying to survive. 

My vision is to create a space for all of us to reflect, to dream again, live again, laugh again…through love of oneself, God, and a community that cares deeply.

If you have a story to share, please email me in the form field below. I look forward to building a community of support.