Hope, Fear, Addiction, Recovery, and Truth

Saturday night, the night that should have been the conclusion of a funfilled day of Derby festivities, our entire family sat outside around our patio table. We were laughing and telling stories, poking fun at one another, and just enjoying being together which would not have been the case if this pandemic had not erupted. I am grateful for this time to be family. But, suddenly, I felt myself beginning to lose my breath; I felt my body tensing up and I knew I had to go. I couldn't explain to anyone what was happening because my mind wasn't entirely sure, but my body knew.

Chris followed me and kept asking what was wrong, what had happened. What my body knew was happening was only beginning to be understood by my mind--it took another 24 hours for it to become clear--well as clear as it could.

The day before I saw a picture that was in my Facebook memories. I couldn't stop seeing the picture.

2015

The picture I once thought I loved was now haunting me. It was from an Oaks Party in 2015. It was a picture of my son and me. My body shuddered as I looked at it and my mind said judgemental things to me over and over. It tortured me with thoughts of, "How could you not have seen? You failed. You looked away. Everything that happened is your fault."

Here's the truth. I didn't look away, or I didn't always look away. Sometimes I saw and sometimes I didn't. Sometimes I failed and sometimes I didn't. And sometimes I believe all that and sometimes I don't.

May is the month that for the last five years has been the beginning of a spiral over which I had little to no control. I hate that. I mean I really hate that. I don't trust May because my truth is that no matter how glorious it has started, every year since 2015 by the time we were well into June and July, May was only a memory of the beginning of heartache and pain again and again and again. I didn't know on the day of that picture in 2015, but I was about to begin a journey into a world I didn't know existed.

And here is where that world took me.

I lost friends and I gained friends. I was shocked and hurt by people who disappeared, and I was surprised by some who didn't. I spent some days laughing and many days crying. I buried my feelings and I let my feelings rule my world. I saw some of the darkest parts of humanity and I saw bright lights of goodness. I blamed myself and I blamed others.  I hid my truth from people and I overshared. I was lied to repeatedly and I lied. I doubted and I trusted. I was there for people and I let people down. I relied on God turning to scripture and prayer over and over, and my bible sat covered in books and papers and dust and my heart turned to stone for days on end. I made mistakes and I did some things right. I felt like a coward, and I did some of the most brave and courageous things I have ever done. I put up walls and I opened doors. I went some days without fear and I spent many terrified. I was lifted up and I was ground down. I succeeded at some things and I failed at others. I pushed people away and I wore people out. I held grudges and I forgave. I loved and I hated. I dreamed dreams and I lived nightmares.  I felt weak and I felt strong. I felt like I was dying but I survived.

2020

It is May. I thought I was in one place, my body says I'm in another. I thought I could talk myself out of or write myself out of my fear, my body said no can do. But here's what I do know. I can live in the paradox of hope and fear. Some days hope will be the conquerer and some days fear will give her a run for her money. I don't have to like May. I may never like May again. May may always bring forth beautiful flowers that I cannot fully appreciate because I remember the weeds of life and pain and addiction and recovery. But that's okay.

I may still be triggered for days, months, or even years by memories, pictures, places, or sounds, but I can tell my truth. Triggers hit me at the strangest times and often out of the blue. But I do believe one day my words and the Word, my truth and the Truth together will set me free.


Disclaimer: This is my story; this is my truth. My son's story of addiction and recovery is his to tell, but I share mine and the part he played in my story with his permission.