No Longer Anonymous
I’ve been blogging for years, but this is my first official blog post as me. I wouldn’t exactly call this my “coming out party” since most of the people I interact with know my family’s story. Then there is, of course, the fact that I did write a book with my real name on it, so I guess it’s already out there for the world to see. Still it does feel different, and honestly very empowering, to be writing this particular article on this specific site with nothing to hide.
I started writing about recovery as “Jane Doe” not long after my daughter got out of rehab. I knew I had to write about what was happening, but I also knew that there was no way I was going to expose our family to the judgment that I was sure would come if I openly shared our experiences. I’d like to say we were fresh from the trenches but we were all still in there. My husband and I were just barely starting to believe that there might be a light at the end of the tunnel. Even though we were feeling some relief at having one child in the early stages of recovery we did have another, our son, who was still out there using. The reality of what we had been facing all along had become increasingly terrifying, and I have to admit, embarrassing.
Both of our beautiful, smart, well adjusted and well loved children were addicted to heroin and that realization left us shell shocked and sick inside. It actually seemed impossible to me at first. There was just no way in my mind that it could be true. These were good kids. No, wait, these were great kids, with a happy home, in a wonderful community, in really good schools, with good grades, lots of friends, and more than enough of everything. These were the kind of kids that could make any mother love parent teacher conferences and notes sent home in back packs and unexpected phone calls because the feedback always made me so proud to be their mom. How could this happen to them? To us? It was almost like a mantra running through my head, “Not my kids. No way could this happen to my kids. Dear God, please don’t let this be happening to my kids,” and along with that crushing fear for their lives the sense of shame kept growing.
So I chose to be anonymous. Maybe we could keep this a secret until they got better and then it could be like it never even happened. They’d get better, we’d all get better and everything would be back to the way it was before. That’s really what I thought at first, or at least it’s what I hoped and prayed for most of my waking hours. When our son went into rehab things seemed to be moving in that direction. They were both getting better, I could see it happening. We were doing everything the treatment center told us to do. We joined parent groups and went to the recommended outpatient sessions with both kids. We went to meetings, we listened to people stand up and tell their stories, and best of all we got to watch our children get chips. We celebrated every small victory in the recovery community around us and sometimes we had to mourn the losses. And there were losses…Way too many losses. Young lives, kids like mine, good kids, with good parents and bright futures, gone.
I wrote about all those things, in different places, in different ways, but always as Jane, always maintaining my anonymity. First I wrote for my sanity, as therapy while trying to figure out what I was feeling. Then I wrote about everything that I was learning, about working the steps and applying various wellness practices. I used my writing to keep records of what was happening, and to store information for the future, until one day I found myself looking only for words to inspire. I wasn’t writing about my kid’s addiction or my own grief anymore. I was actually writing about our collective healing and that was something that I wanted to share openly. The shame had somehow been lifted and all that was left in its place was a deep desire to spread some hope.
No longer anonymous, today I wear recovery on my sleeve with pride. I have come to realize that there is no need for shame in suffering and there is certainly no use for shame in healing. I am in long term recovery for grief and codependency. I have two children who are both in long term recovery for heroin addiction. That’s who we are and there’s no denying it.
We are not who we used to be. I was so wrong about that– things will never go back to the way they were before, because we’re better. Better in so many ways that I never even could have wished for. I have been humbled, heartbroken, inspired, amazed and greatly blessed throughout the process. I have been introduced to the most incredibly strong, courageous, honest, hardworking people on the planet and I am so proud to call them my friends. I have been given a purpose and the gift of serving a community in need, and the need is great. There are so many people out there in those trenches, most of them hiding, suffering quietly and feeling alone, many of them feeling shame. But I’m here to tell you that this can happen to anyone.
Anyone can be broken, pain doesn’t pick favorites, but the good news is that neither does healing. It can happen. My children are alive. I’ve got no promises for tomorrow but right now they are healthy and on the road to becoming who they were always meant to be. They aren’t perfect. Lord knows I’m not perfect. Life isn’t perfect. But it’s a whole lot better. We’re a whole lot better and doing our best to reach out to anyone and everyone who will listen and believe. Recovery is possible and it’s nothing to be ashamed of, healing is a beautiful thing.
You can help BREAK THE STIGMA by sharing your story directly by visiting Heroes in Recovery and mention Marta sent you. OR you can contact me through email [marta@wellnessmeetings.com] with your information and I can help you through the process.
Love and Light to All,
Marta