- Drugs
- Friends & Family
The following are excerpts from a book written by a mother and her son. These excerpts are from the son.
This is the moment when I realized truth, truth in the face of sudden fear of what is really going on in my life and what is to come. It isn’t just one moment but many moments where I have sat afraid of the very sensation of fear itself. In these moments I have made a commitment not to run from the realities in life but instead to persevere even when I am not so sure I want to uphold that commitment. In the past I never let myself reach this moment. Instead I kept myself in my own delusional reality by drowning myself in drugs and never having to reach this moment of feeling. I cannot remember the specific moment I first felt this. What is important is what I do when I come to this sensation. Run away again, or learn to struggle well and march on. This is the moment when I realize, “Everything’s real.”
I was on board with the family program while in treatment and looked forward to it. I felt the only way to find freedom was to be honest with them, and I was excited to see my family. I felt so many things seeing them for the first time, but joy stood out the most. This was the first time I felt that way in a long time. I had a piece of paper in my pocket with what I wrote the night before, but I was unsure as to whether or not I would actually make it to the podium to read it aloud. I let every other speaker get up before me. When it came to the end, I felt as if someone grabbed me by the shoulders and put me up in the front of the chapel. I was terrified to read this out loud, but as my family came up and stood beside me, I felt a sudden rush of comfort and closeness to them. I began to read the following:
I can remember being young and free without a care in the world. The world was my playground, and my Big Wheel was my vessel through life. I can remember the warmth of heart from my mother and father as they carried me on this journey. I can remember this felt good.
I remember vacations with my family. Wherever we wanted to go, we did it together. Trips to Florida, the Bahamas, you name it. I remember. They all felt good.
I remember playing lacrosse. I remember my family and friends coming to watch me play, the wins, the goals and the great feeling of support and accomplishment. All of it felt good.
I remember going away to college and the loss of friends, the loss of lacrosse and the loss of my sense of place and direction. I can remember this felt…not so good.
I remember giving up, giving in to all the wrong things that made me feel good, that took away the pain and made me feel happy again. I guess this felt good.
Now all I can remember is the pain, the lies, the stealing, the manipulation, the ignorance and selfishness. I remember spending every cent, selling everything and asking for more from others who had nothing to give. I can remember feeling nothing at all.
I can remember making my mother cry, making my sister hide, and making my father feel helpless. I remember making those who loved me become full of anger and disgust toward me. I remember the vacations disappeared, and my family and everything I loved slowly moved in the same direction. This didn’t feel good at all.
I do remember the feeling of hope though. The support and love of my family still lingered beneath the surface of all that pain. They’re still here, and they want me back. They want back what I’ve hid from them and what I’ve taken away from them. Is that too much to ask? Why are we so afraid of feeling good again? What is so scary about life and feeling that warmth we’ve all known?
I can feel the hope build and the warmth rise. I can actually feel again. I can remember. There is progress to be made and steps to take, but I believe we can all still live a life that everyone will want to remember.
Getting back into life after treatment, I realized that just because I wasn’t doing drugs anymore didn’t mean I was an expert at dealing with my feelings. I had to learn to constantly expose what was going on inside of me to be completely free of my illness. I was afraid to look like a coward, so I continued to keep my feelings inside. I thought exposing feelings was good just as long as it wasn’t me exposing my feelings, but now I continuously remember that it’s not my actions that are my problem. It is my mind that needs healing. Everything else comes later.
Even though relapse is never out of the question, for me or anyone like me that is not my greatest fear in this life. My greatest fear is the in-between point that leads to relapse. My mind is my problem, and drugs and alcohol were the solution that helped me to feel okay. I began to get a glimpse of the in-between point once again after treatment while in New York. It is a lonely and dark place where sometimes death can seem the only and even best option. My life is proof that this is not the truth and that there is always another option. Whether we are drug addicts, alcoholics or even neither, we all have a mind that can take us to the darkest places of the universe.
We don’t need to be afraid to admit these things. It does not make us weak. I used to believe that because I can feel pain or fear, I am weak. That belief is my greatest weakness of all. It takes an exponential amount of courage to admit that I am only a man and to expose these feelings to others, and if I am to grow stronger, this must be done.
After all we are all only human.