Tuesday, June 9, 2015

It Just Gets Me in the Gut

Recently it seems like I am encountering folks dealing with loved ones' addiction issues all over the place. A colleague in martial arts just had his drug-addicted daughter relapse and run away leaving him and his wife with her two little babies (less than a year apart!) to care for and adopt. A colleague at work just had her drug-addicted daughter attempt suicide. A woman at church told me about her horrible home life - addicted, angry child and unsupportive husband.

It. Just. Gets. Me. In. The. Gut.

Because I remember it all too well. The awful feeling. Of nauseating despair. And I cannot help them. I can offer them advice and sympathy and a shoulder. And I know that helps.

But what really sickens me is that in these three cases at least, I know how it is going to end. Their loved one is going to die and there is nothing they can do about it. There is nothing I can do about it. I can gently suggest that they explore Al-Anon. That they read about "detachment" and other useful things. And it is so that they can prepare to say good-bye.

I know that there are happy endings often. In the cases above there will not be. I feel so awful for these friends and colleagues of mine.

But there it is....

Thursday, June 4, 2015

Some Day You Will Stopped Being Defined by This Experience

When I was 27 years old I was diagnosed with Hodgkins Disease. I went through 10 months of extensive chemotherapy that was very harmful to my psyche (extreme amounts of Prednizone makes you really fat and really paranoid and angry) but it DID cure me and I am quite grateful for that. I was so grateful that "being a cancer survivor" became my mission in life and almost my sole definition of myself for quite some time. I became a "Cancermount Counselor" (American Cancer Society program where you meet with and counsel folks with your type of cancer). I became a team captain for Relay for Life for many, many years. Somehow the fact that I was a survivor worked its way into every conversation that I had with someone. There were a couple of reasons for this, some good and some just "human nature." I have a very "missional personality" - I do believe that life throws things at you for a reason and you should try to make lemonade out of those lemons as much as possible. So, I used my negative and frightening experience to help others. Also - being a cancer survivor made me "interesting" - it was a good conversation starter. And that is where it gets a little weird and ambiguous - I tend to over analyze myself and was constantly worried that I was just trying to draw attention to myself and get sympathy, praise etc. for it. You know - who knows?

But then it gradually it stopped defining me so much. Oh, when I am asked to step up to the plate for cancer survivorship I still do so (especially since I later survived another kind of quite curable cancer - thyroid cancer - too). When my church has a Relay for Life team, I still do an hour of running for it and raise the money. But I am not captain. Nor do I go do the Survivor's Lap when I am supposed to be 'honored' - I just happened to draw the lucky card on that; the real honorees should be the ones still struggling and who are losing the fight.

And - geez - now when it comes up in conversation it is totally by accident and I cannot even remember how many years I have been a survivor. It has utterly ceased to be a part of how I define myself for better or for worse.

I now find that this is occurring with the whole "I am a widow of an end-stage alcoholic" thing. Really - for awhile there, I was managing to work that into every single conversation I ever had! And I think it did some good sometimes - I have been approached by my acquaintances, colleagues, church members - who know my story (because for goodness sakes, I sure was blaring it everywhere!) who know that they can come to me for comfort, advice, an ear and shoulder to cry on. It is why I write this blog; I DO have something to offer, I think, and once again am making lemonade of the lemons, I hope. But I also think that for ME there was a level of "self-aggrandizement" too (See what I survived!) - you know, human nature! I am only speaking about me and my motives - conscious or unconscious - your mileage may vary....

Then I realized the other day that this too no longer defines me. At all. I am just a women of 51 years. I have two sons, a dog and 4 cats. I lost the love of my life - first to alcohol and then to oblivion. But I don't have to work it into every conversation for my sake or others. I don't think about it every day. In fact, I barely think of it at all.

I am going to have a conversation with my sons this summer; see if they have experienced this. How do they think of themselves? How do they define themselves now? How did they define themselves THEN (when dad died....).

This is meant to be a comforting post (I sure hope that it is! If not - blame it on my clumsy language!). Right now, several of you are going through the horror that I went through. It may end soon for you; it may end later for you. I hope it ends sooner for you.... But it WILL end and it will fade and cease to define you. You will have been tempered after the fire and shaped into something new but the origins of your 'new shape' will diminish. The burns will heal. And one morning you will wake up and just be...you.... That is my hope and prayer for all of you who read this blog.

"Luctor et emergo ex Flammis Orior Per Aspera Ad Astra." - I struggle and emerge from the flames through the thorns to the stars.