It was horrible. The phone rang around noon. On the other line was my step-daughter's mother; she informed my husband and me that our daughter was admitted to the ICU. She was in bad condition. She had an inflammation around her heart and lungs. She was having a difficult time breathing, and she was intubated.
This was not the phone call we had hoped for, not at all. But was it one of shock? No, sadly it was not. Our beautiful girl had had difficulty with addictions and mental health. It had been going on for years, so if my friends and family were shocked, well, we tried to keep her private life private out of respect for her. She had a problem, and I am sorry to say this, but we couldn't have saved her. This is not and was not a movie that you watch for two hours and walk away feeling like you personally saved someone. This was real life. This was her family trying everything we could without destroying our own lives.
One thing that you don't see in the movies is that addicts will sell anything for their fix. I mean anything. They will use everyone that is in their lives. We were advised by a professional that we needed to distance ourselves from her, which was very difficult. In my mind, I think that I can fix anything, but I know that this is NOT true. So, when things got really bad, my husband and I would talk to her, but we would not give her any money. Even knowing what was going on, it was terrible. We watched, from a distance, our precious daughter, go in and out of the hospital. Getting late phone calls from her in the Emergency room, and having her tell us that they were treating her poorly.
Please keep in mind, addicts are poor historians, and because of her mental illness, it was difficult to decipher what was real and what was not. Unfortunately, the pandemic has caused a lot of people to feel isolated. It has been especially hard on addicts. They already feel marginalized.
I get it. Some people out there are probably thinking that the addicts have made their bed and now they have to sleep in it. I guess that is a very narrow way of thinking about it. Yes, they have a problem that is killing them; I am guessing some might say 'good riddance.' But keep in mind that most addicts do not want their addiction. A lot of addicts are only in those positions because of an undiagnosed mental illness. It is a way that makes them feel better, or makes them feel nothing at all. This is not something that we should just turn a blind eye towards. Mental health is something that we all should be focused on. Ever wonder why you do some of the things that you do and don't know why? How about why you are a perpetual cheater, or you are someone who has slept with a multitude of people; or you go from zero to 100 instantly with anger? You probably have something that you have not resolved in your past that needs to be addressed. Do not think that you are immune to becoming an addict. Your vice may be a glass of wine a night, a cigarette or two, or even over-eating. You are dealing with your problems unhealthily as well. You just haven't been swept up in the net of the "deplorables", or "riff-raff", or even "dope-heads."
These people are human beings who, like you and I, have people out there who love them, unconditionally. They have a mother, a father, and perhaps siblings. Friends and family. What is the make-up of us all but friends and family? These are their corners; they are their foundation, they are the ones who suffer with the addict. The pain that you do not see on the face of the addict can be seen on the faces of those who love them the most. Hands tied, hearts torn in two, and a constant vein of fear that the person that they love will go too far, and will never make it back.
This is a story, it has a beginning, a middle and an end. The beginning is the foundation that the family clings to when their loved one becomes an addict. It is the memories of how they were and the joys that they brought to each and every one that they touched. The beginning will carry over into the middle, and sometimes go back and forth. It really depends on how much of a grip the addiction has on the addict. Because of this, to the detriment of the family, we all have and continue to have hope for our loved one. We believe in them. We love them, and we have this fantasy that our love will pull them out of the quicksand that has taken over their lives. We believe in them. It is the hope that is the double-edged sword.
Sadly, the end of the story for our beautiful girl did not turn out as we had hoped. She passed away January 12th. She was only 26 years old. No one wanted this story to end. We didn't, but it did. Her father would read to her and her sister when they were small, and like the ravenous, binge-watching culture of today, the girls always asked for one more story, one more poem. Once you lose someone, they are gone. The stories remain, the memories remain and the constant questioning of whether or not you did enough remain, but the one you loved, the one that you had hoped could defeat the disease, have now fallen victim to their illness.
So where does one go from here? What is it that you are supposed to do to heal? How can you support others, when you are broken as well? My easiest answer is, lean on your loved ones, and allow them to lean on you. Grief is personal. It is.
I have always, and will always be the person who, even in the darkest of times will look to the light. I will find the pinhole that allows me to see a pathway out. Even with this tremendous loss to our family, my pinpoint of light is that she is no longer in pain. I said it on a Facebook post, and I will say it here: this is cold comfort. But it is comforting. Knowing the things that she put herself through to feed her addiction, knowing how depraved our society is when there are people out there who prey on those who are ill. I know that she is gone. I know that she is no longer in pain. I know that she loved us all. I know that she tried the best that she could, because that was the person that she was, and always will be.
So, through all of this, and all of the years that she has been in my life, over 20, I wondered how much of an impact I had on her. I never really understood until after she was gone. Many, many years ago I watched a movie with my two girls. A movie known to the world as "Freaky Friday" from 2003, starring Jamie Lee Curtis, and Lindsay Lohan. There is this scene in the movie, really pretty much at the beginning, Jamie Lee Curtis is dropping Lindsay Lohan off at school. And in typical, embarrassing form, she yells out to her teenage daughter "Make good choices." I thought that this was kind of neat, so after watching it, I too chose to use that phrase, every time I or we dropped the girls or girl off anywhere. "Make Good Choices." I loved doing it because it irritated both of them, and they rolled their eyes, and went on their way. It is funny how you don't realize the ripple that you cause in someone's life. She died. She is gone. And everyone that has touched her life or has been touched by her in life all quoted her as saying "Make Good Choices." Every word that I read, every comment that I saw with that phrase, cut into my heart like razor blades. Constantly slicing, tearing away. Tears would fall at rates I was unaware could be possible; I don't think I can describe how I felt. To say that every time I saw this comment I would mutter "Little Asshole," might seem inappropriate to you, but for our relationship, I hear her laughing every time I say it. I honestly didn't know.
I honestly didn't know how much of an effect I had on her life. I knew that she loved me, and I knew that because of contentious situations she could not show me, without others feeling less than. She would hold back her stories trying to protect others from feeling left out. She was always trying not to hurt people feelings, so she would build barriers. Large walls. Never connecting, never breaking down. I think that these walls were necessary for her to maintain her own semblance of normalcy.
We had long conversations. Long very real, no-bullshit conversations. I knew that in her eyes, her father and I abandoned her when we moved to Halifax. I don't know how this idea got planted, and right now it doesn't matter, but during our alone time, we talked. Like mother and daughter. I let her talk and I listened. I could hear her pain. I could feel it. I still sat there and listened. There were times when she would just talk herself to sleep. She would exert so much emotional energy, she would fall asleep. And I would let her sleep. I think that is what hurts the most. I could hear her pain, but I was unable to soothe it. I would have had to hug her for decades, to take away her sorrow. She wouldn't have minded, she loved being hugged.
So, here we are a few weeks later. Still numb. Still feeling our feelings. Still remembering a life cut too short. Still reminiscing. Still ruminating. Still pointing fingers.
She's gone. Our hearts are broken. Her story has ended. There will be no more. The typewriter or scribe has written her last words. Her story will be put on a shelf, collecting dust, until we choose to remember her, honour her, and at the same time we continue to love her. Her story is a tragedy. But we continue to love.
We all need a safe place. A place where we are able to let go, without judgment. Where we can be at our lowest lows and highest highs. We need to feel safe. Hug the ones that are close to you. Tell them how much you love them. Send love to them through the universe if you are not close to them.
Love always wins.
No matter the high cost that you will pay for loving someone, the reward for you is that they knew that you loved them.
Keep your chin up, and when in doubt, “Make Good Choices.”
Happy Does it,
Even when times are dark, look for the light and follow the rainbow.
This was not the phone call we had hoped for, not at all. But was it one of shock? No, sadly it was not. Our beautiful girl had had difficulty with addictions and mental health. It had been going on for years, so if my friends and family were shocked, well, we tried to keep her private life private out of respect for her. She had a problem, and I am sorry to say this, but we couldn't have saved her. This is not and was not a movie that you watch for two hours and walk away feeling like you personally saved someone. This was real life. This was her family trying everything we could without destroying our own lives.
One thing that you don't see in the movies is that addicts will sell anything for their fix. I mean anything. They will use everyone that is in their lives. We were advised by a professional that we needed to distance ourselves from her, which was very difficult. In my mind, I think that I can fix anything, but I know that this is NOT true. So, when things got really bad, my husband and I would talk to her, but we would not give her any money. Even knowing what was going on, it was terrible. We watched, from a distance, our precious daughter, go in and out of the hospital. Getting late phone calls from her in the Emergency room, and having her tell us that they were treating her poorly.
Please keep in mind, addicts are poor historians, and because of her mental illness, it was difficult to decipher what was real and what was not. Unfortunately, the pandemic has caused a lot of people to feel isolated. It has been especially hard on addicts. They already feel marginalized.
I get it. Some people out there are probably thinking that the addicts have made their bed and now they have to sleep in it. I guess that is a very narrow way of thinking about it. Yes, they have a problem that is killing them; I am guessing some might say 'good riddance.' But keep in mind that most addicts do not want their addiction. A lot of addicts are only in those positions because of an undiagnosed mental illness. It is a way that makes them feel better, or makes them feel nothing at all. This is not something that we should just turn a blind eye towards. Mental health is something that we all should be focused on. Ever wonder why you do some of the things that you do and don't know why? How about why you are a perpetual cheater, or you are someone who has slept with a multitude of people; or you go from zero to 100 instantly with anger? You probably have something that you have not resolved in your past that needs to be addressed. Do not think that you are immune to becoming an addict. Your vice may be a glass of wine a night, a cigarette or two, or even over-eating. You are dealing with your problems unhealthily as well. You just haven't been swept up in the net of the "deplorables", or "riff-raff", or even "dope-heads."
These people are human beings who, like you and I, have people out there who love them, unconditionally. They have a mother, a father, and perhaps siblings. Friends and family. What is the make-up of us all but friends and family? These are their corners; they are their foundation, they are the ones who suffer with the addict. The pain that you do not see on the face of the addict can be seen on the faces of those who love them the most. Hands tied, hearts torn in two, and a constant vein of fear that the person that they love will go too far, and will never make it back.
This is a story, it has a beginning, a middle and an end. The beginning is the foundation that the family clings to when their loved one becomes an addict. It is the memories of how they were and the joys that they brought to each and every one that they touched. The beginning will carry over into the middle, and sometimes go back and forth. It really depends on how much of a grip the addiction has on the addict. Because of this, to the detriment of the family, we all have and continue to have hope for our loved one. We believe in them. We love them, and we have this fantasy that our love will pull them out of the quicksand that has taken over their lives. We believe in them. It is the hope that is the double-edged sword.
Sadly, the end of the story for our beautiful girl did not turn out as we had hoped. She passed away January 12th. She was only 26 years old. No one wanted this story to end. We didn't, but it did. Her father would read to her and her sister when they were small, and like the ravenous, binge-watching culture of today, the girls always asked for one more story, one more poem. Once you lose someone, they are gone. The stories remain, the memories remain and the constant questioning of whether or not you did enough remain, but the one you loved, the one that you had hoped could defeat the disease, have now fallen victim to their illness.
So where does one go from here? What is it that you are supposed to do to heal? How can you support others, when you are broken as well? My easiest answer is, lean on your loved ones, and allow them to lean on you. Grief is personal. It is.
I have always, and will always be the person who, even in the darkest of times will look to the light. I will find the pinhole that allows me to see a pathway out. Even with this tremendous loss to our family, my pinpoint of light is that she is no longer in pain. I said it on a Facebook post, and I will say it here: this is cold comfort. But it is comforting. Knowing the things that she put herself through to feed her addiction, knowing how depraved our society is when there are people out there who prey on those who are ill. I know that she is gone. I know that she is no longer in pain. I know that she loved us all. I know that she tried the best that she could, because that was the person that she was, and always will be.
So, through all of this, and all of the years that she has been in my life, over 20, I wondered how much of an impact I had on her. I never really understood until after she was gone. Many, many years ago I watched a movie with my two girls. A movie known to the world as "Freaky Friday" from 2003, starring Jamie Lee Curtis, and Lindsay Lohan. There is this scene in the movie, really pretty much at the beginning, Jamie Lee Curtis is dropping Lindsay Lohan off at school. And in typical, embarrassing form, she yells out to her teenage daughter "Make good choices." I thought that this was kind of neat, so after watching it, I too chose to use that phrase, every time I or we dropped the girls or girl off anywhere. "Make Good Choices." I loved doing it because it irritated both of them, and they rolled their eyes, and went on their way. It is funny how you don't realize the ripple that you cause in someone's life. She died. She is gone. And everyone that has touched her life or has been touched by her in life all quoted her as saying "Make Good Choices." Every word that I read, every comment that I saw with that phrase, cut into my heart like razor blades. Constantly slicing, tearing away. Tears would fall at rates I was unaware could be possible; I don't think I can describe how I felt. To say that every time I saw this comment I would mutter "Little Asshole," might seem inappropriate to you, but for our relationship, I hear her laughing every time I say it. I honestly didn't know.
I honestly didn't know how much of an effect I had on her life. I knew that she loved me, and I knew that because of contentious situations she could not show me, without others feeling less than. She would hold back her stories trying to protect others from feeling left out. She was always trying not to hurt people feelings, so she would build barriers. Large walls. Never connecting, never breaking down. I think that these walls were necessary for her to maintain her own semblance of normalcy.
We had long conversations. Long very real, no-bullshit conversations. I knew that in her eyes, her father and I abandoned her when we moved to Halifax. I don't know how this idea got planted, and right now it doesn't matter, but during our alone time, we talked. Like mother and daughter. I let her talk and I listened. I could hear her pain. I could feel it. I still sat there and listened. There were times when she would just talk herself to sleep. She would exert so much emotional energy, she would fall asleep. And I would let her sleep. I think that is what hurts the most. I could hear her pain, but I was unable to soothe it. I would have had to hug her for decades, to take away her sorrow. She wouldn't have minded, she loved being hugged.
So, here we are a few weeks later. Still numb. Still feeling our feelings. Still remembering a life cut too short. Still reminiscing. Still ruminating. Still pointing fingers.
She's gone. Our hearts are broken. Her story has ended. There will be no more. The typewriter or scribe has written her last words. Her story will be put on a shelf, collecting dust, until we choose to remember her, honour her, and at the same time we continue to love her. Her story is a tragedy. But we continue to love.
We all need a safe place. A place where we are able to let go, without judgment. Where we can be at our lowest lows and highest highs. We need to feel safe. Hug the ones that are close to you. Tell them how much you love them. Send love to them through the universe if you are not close to them.
Love always wins.
No matter the high cost that you will pay for loving someone, the reward for you is that they knew that you loved them.
Keep your chin up, and when in doubt, “Make Good Choices.”
Happy Does it,
Even when times are dark, look for the light and follow the rainbow.
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