Tag: love

Mental Health

The other side of Addiction….

beingmesober

Hello fellow warrior’s! I hope you are all striving to be your best selves!

I’d like to talk about the other side of addiction. The ones looking in and watching their loved ones struggle with alcohol, drugs or any addiction.

I come from a long line of alcohol abuse and have suffered myself with alcohol and I’ve also been on the recieving end of the abuse that comes with alcohol abuse for some. 

When I knew I wanted children and had my 2, alcohol abuse was never on my radar. I concentrated on raising them to be a good person, well mannered, good in school and have a successful career. Like we all want for our children. To lead a productive healthy life. To be better than we were. To learn from our mistakes.

I was always open with my children about drugs and the dangers of them. I also spoke to them about drinking and driving. To call home if they needed a ride or they were in trouble, but I never thought about the risk of them becoming alcoholics themselves. I was not in reccovery at the time so I was just as naive as they were. I didn’t quite understand fully the risks of inherited trauma based addiction. It was the blind leading the blind.

Fast forward, I am now 17.5 years alcohol free. I’ve never done hard drugs just the odd joint here and there. I was ignorant and blinded to the amount of drugs, hard drugs, that were being done by teenagers in schools and the street. I never thought my kids would do that. I didn’t, so why would they?  I have warned them of the consequences of cocain and other harsh life taking drugs. I did my best to be open and keep the lines of communication open.

I was always hard on my son thinking he would be like his father. So terrified and for that I was very hard on him. I had to be the dad he never had. Playing both roles as mother and father. My daughter was so good in school, she never gave me a hard time, never spoke back to me.  she was independant and just a good kid until it started when she was 15. The drinking. The blackout episodes. The pot, the cocain. The lies and the terror I started to realize.

I was told by people it’s just high school, her age, she will grow out of it. I knew deep down that she had an issue. My intuition was on high. I had been alcohol free for a couple of years then and had much more knowledge of addiction and the actions of people that go with it. The lies, the hiding, and the unsettled feeling that something is so wrong.

Today my son is 33 and has 3 kids and a successful business. He went through his time of drinking and came to the realization that nothing good comes with it, just problems and he’d probably end up alone if he continued. We had many, many talks about what he was doing and how he was choosing to spend his free time. How the alcohol was affecting him, his children and his wife and of course his business, his friends and us. I know he may choose to have a beer again but I hope he doesn’t. I hope all the talks and what he has seen in his life, like his father, his grandfather and me, that nothing good comes out of drinking. I hope he goes long enough to see what a great life it is to be alcohol free. No more shame, regret and explanations.

My daughter is 30 and struggling. We are all struggling. I am not confident that she has stayed straight. It is hard to beleive her when she tells me where she’s been. Everything has a question mark. Did she go to AA or is she appeasing me to do what she wants? When she doesn’t come home at night my mind always goes to her being in jail or worse, dead. Then she will walk through the door or calls, and all my anxiety washes away, but underneath I’m angry, I am scared and I am left with wonder. I want to beleive her and support her but it is very difficult. I am lost and don’t know what to do. When she tells me she is somewhere do I drive and check up on her? Do I ask her to leave her home because she is causing so much uneasiness and tension? How can I ask her to leave when she doesn’t make enough to even survive on her own. I can’t give up and I can’t give up on her, what if I’m wrong and too controlling. All these questions constantly going through my mind until I know she is safe and home in her bed at night.

PTSD! That is what is happening on the other side of addiction. The ones helping the other to get straight. This is what we are left with. Their car isn’t in the driveway, oh god, did she get a dui, did she have an accident, did she do coke and die, did someone kidnap her when she was blackout? Waiting for the door to open and they come through with a big hello! Waiting for the phone call that says, I am okay. Waiting for the unknown number or the knock on the door from the police. Waiting, waiting for the shoe to drop because every time they leave we are asking ourselves what are they really doing?

My daughter has been through a lot during her addiction. Some unbelievable things that I won’t tell the world. That’s her story to tell. I will say to all addicted or on the other side, this is hard on you and us. It leaves scars that remain forever. I know I have left scars and for that I am truly sorry and have come to terms with it and made ammends and prayed for forgiveness.

For those who think we just aren’t affected by their addiction you’re very wrong. Your addiction affects everyone that cares for you. We may seem like we got this but on the inside we are screaming for the confirmation that everything is okay. We want out as much as you do. We want everything we wished for you since the day you were born.

The only way we can help each other is through honesty, communication and commitment. Going deeper into your addiction other than just dropping the drug and moving on. There are other underlying issues that contribute to addiction. Mental health, trauma, rejection, etc. We need to explore every avenue of getting into our brains to help us function and be more balanced to understand the why. My daughter has started medication for ADHD which can be a contributer to her addiction and why she can’t escape this hell. I hope it helps and I hope it makes her feel more settled. I hope she sees the value that she has to the world and I hope she helps herself more than she helps others right now. She ignores her own respinsibilities and does for others what she should be doing for herself.

The one question I always have in my mind is, “Is it my fault? Did I contributer to this, Was I not there for her?” NO! No it is not my fault, I did not make this happen, I was and am there for her. That is a natural question or wonder we have. We blame ourselves when something is wrong with our children. Not one parent is perfect, we all make mistakes. We have to know this is their path and their own acceptance of the disease and it’s up to them to make the choice to change.

The ones struggling, you are not alone. The ones on the other side, you are not alone. Yet we feel so alone, like we are the only ones going through this. There are so many struggling today but together we can share and talk about what we are going through and get support so we don’t feel alone. Let’s rally up and get through this together. #togetherwewin

This is, Being Me Sober.

Leisure, Mental Health

A moment in life that made me feel truly alive…

beingmesober

What’s a moment in your life that made you feel truly alive?

The moment I felt truly alive was when I gave birth to my first child. My son. He was/is perfect. His little 6lb body, his blond hair and the perfect human he was and became.

I was just shy of 23 and I was complete. I felt so alive and whole. I fell in love. I made promises to him that I would always be here and never leave him, to protect him and love and teach him everything.

I now had a purpose and I intended to do everything I could to help him grow into the man I was proud of and he could be proud of too. Of course we had our struggles, but today he’s 33 and is a father of 3. He owns his own landscaping company and is doing great! He is a wonderful father and husband, a hard worker with strong ethics. He is caring and thoughtful. He is smart and funny. He is everything I’d hoped he’d be.

My son (and daughter) has given me life and purpose. They are why I strive to do my best and lead by example. Why I stayed here on earth when all I wanted to do was leave. They are my life and what truly keeps me going.

Mental Health

Chapter 2…Going home

beingmesober

Going to the hockey game with my dad was a highlight. Watching the Toronto Maple Leafs live at age 8, what a memory. The players looked so much bigger than on TV when we watched the games at home. Every time hockey night in Canada plays that iconic song I go right back to childhood and watching the games with dad or falling asleep to that song when they had later games.

My dad had a new girlfriend when I moved in with him. The last one he told me he broke up with because she made me eat green beans every time I went to spend the weekend with him and she knew I didn’t like them. I remember that conversation. I remember feeling so special and protected. His new girlfriend was so nice. She was so pretty and fun. We lived in the same house that my parents bought together, so I was back in my bedroom and had my playroom again. We took pictures together with Bonnie our dog, each one having a turn, pictures of me and dad and ones with me and his girlfriend. My dad asked why I wasn’t smiling. I said because I was told to not show my teeth. He looked at me with a sad expression and said not to listen to them and to smile big, you’re so pretty he said. From that day on I smiled with all my teeth showing, not afraid of what anyone thought and I was happy because my dad was praising me instead of hurting me, making me feel sad or making me feel bad.

I finished off grade 4 at a new school, school number 5, when I moved back home. But once I was half way through the 5th year, the school and my father decided the best route was to have me put back in grade 4. My mom being Catholic, had me enrolled in Catholic School, going to church every Sunday and Sunday school for me for the 8 years I was with her. I am grateful for having God be present in my life, I certainly needed him going forward. My father being Protestant, I had to go to a public school. A whole other school system and learning system so that was their reasoning why I had to be put back in the 4th grade. I’m sure I was nervous and anxious about first, starting another new school then having to be put in a new class half way through the year. Thank goodness school is not run that way any longer.

My dad was having a hard time with me at the babysitters. I was being very aggressive and misbehaving. Not listening and acting out. My grade 4 report card said if I couldn’t get my point across verbally, I would get it across physically. It was a family joke for years. What I was doing was what I had learned and what I watched and how I was punished. I watched and learned that, this is how you communicate, through yelling and hitting.

I was getting better though, I stopped sucking my thumb at 9 years old. I was so excited. I ran to my dad’s room and told him. He was so proud of me. My sleep walking however wasn’t going away. I didn’t leave the house anymore like I did when my mom lived there, so that was a good thing. My mom had put a lock on the outside of my bedroom door so I couldn’t get out. I would walk all the way to the corner store. That was where my bus stop was so I imagine I was dreaming of having to go to school. The sleepwalking, latching on to my thumb for security, as well as the night terrors eventually stopped. I was feeling safe. I was happy and building a good relationship with my dad and his girlfriend. I was also very happy to be back with Bonnie. My ultimate protector. I knew nothing could happen to me if Bonnie was there.

School however was a challenge for me. I was a slow learner and had difficulties. I can still visualize my dad sitting with me at the table helping me with math and using fruit to assist us. He was very patient with me. He taught me how to clean, with after school chores, he taught me how to ice skate at the park on a pond that froze over. It was just a short walk. We’d gather our skates and walk and talk along the way. He taught me so much. I loved being with him. He was my best friend.

Mental Health

In the back of my mind…Preface

beingmesober

My story. I keep hearing, “tell your story”. Do I tell my story? Do I expose the truth for everyone to read and have opinions? Do I tell my story for myself to heal fully? Who am I telling my story for? All these questions come to mind when I put my fingers to the keyboard and try, again and again to not start, but to finish my story.

When someone sits to tell their story it isn’t just about them, it’s about all the people around them that had a hand in their addiction, their trauma, their path of success or failure.

I’ve told my story in a round about way but never divulging the entire story because of fear of hurting the people I love or starting something I never intended to start.

It’s time. It’s time to tell the story of how I became powerless over alcohol and how at the same time it made me feel powerful, how it gave me an escape to live through what I was living with and then how it almost ruined me and my children.

I am not sure how I will get this out, maybe a chapter book, or blogs as chapters. I guess the main thing is to start and finish. Continue to heal and help others. Time to unveil myself and the secrets I carried since I was 4 years old. The blindness, and countless nights of prayer and hope.

The name of my book will be, “How did I get here”. Isn’t that the big question we always ask ourselves when we are at our lowest and full of toxins that fuel our brain and emotions. The unraveling of the tied up ball of mess that we had become. Who would be there at the end of the tunnel when we became whole again.

My trauma started at the age of 4, witnessing my father abuse my mom. I walked in on them one night after hearing my mothers cries and screams. I saw her face was full of blood and my dad full of rage. My father saw me and picked me up, brought me to my room and threw me on my bed, pointed his finger in my face with his teeth clenched and said, “You stay in here and don’t come out!” It was that day that I started to self-sooth and stay quiet. The first time I felt scared and alone, but at that age I didn’t recognize those feelings so I began to express them in different ways.

While still at the age of 4, I remember standing in the hallway between my room and my parents, holding my mother’s hand with a suitcase in her other hand and asked me while standing in front of my father, who I wanted to stay with, her or my father. Of course a daughter always wants her mom at that age so naturally I went with her. I believe I would have been scared to stay with my father after what he had done to my mom.

We stayed with my aunt and uncle for a bit until we moved into a basement apartment. My mom had a job selling encyclopedias door to door, this was 1974-75 so that’s the kind of work that people used to do. Funny now as we look back at how times have changed, but for some reason, some people don’t. Ever. While on her route she stepped into a Collection agency office, while trying to sell the receptionist books, the owner of the business came out from his private office, and, while stunned at her beauty, asked her what she was doing selling encyclopedias looking like that. Blushing and defensive, she laughed him off. He asked again. She replied, “I have a little girl I have to support and this is what I have to do!” He asked her if she could type, and how many words a minute. Again, 1970’s, we had typewriters. Anyway, I honestly don’t think he cared if she had experience or not, he was so taken by her. Her deep blue eyes and pale skin, with long black hair, so petite she was, and dressed to the nines. Of course he offered her a receptionist position as long as she came back at 5:00 that evening for a drink. She refused because she had to get home to me, and that was not something she did. Is this guy nuts, I could hear her saying, but he insisted and she did go against everything she stood for as a woman, that night, that job, changed our lives. There was hope and my mom was proud to be able to get out of her sisters and have our own little nest. We could put everything behind us and go forward.