Its Impossible to Love A Using Addict

Dear Readers,
Its impossible to have a relationship with an addict who is using.
The deeper the addict falls within his addiction the more self-absored they will become. There will be room for no one else. The drug will become the most important thing in their lives.
Using addicts are untrustworthy even though they may proclaim to love you. Here’s why: They will justify their actions by using a theory of “personal exceptionalism”. This theory works like this:
Under ordinary circumstances most people would find these behaviors unacceptable;
But these are not ordinary circumstances; and I am not an ordinary person;
Therefore I can commit these acts with impunity- not being punished. ” And I need to get my drug!”
When I was 6 months into recovery, my boyfriend, the guy with whom I first used crack,  the only person with whom I smoked crack, was released from a 5 month stint at Hazelden. (His 5th time in inpatient drug treatment.)
He convinced the administrators at Hazelden to allow him to do his halfway house portion of his court mandated sentence at his mothers mansion which sat on five acres of land in the wealthy community of Bellevue Washington.
He lasted 9 days.
His mother kicked him out and he came to live with me.
He stole from and lied to me. He stole the money I needed to pay ($40) to see my children for my supervised visits.
Ultimately he stole a full length Christian Dior cashmere coat, my computer, and the bumper from my BMW. All of which he sold or traded for crack.
It took me years to get over him, mostly because I thought if I loved him enough he would stop using. I know now it’s impossible to love an addict while they are using. I was lucky- I did not relapse in the time he was living in my apartment. Thank God.
The Addict Writes

Take Care of Your Body it Houses your Soul.

Dear Readers,
I am ill today. I have some horribly bad cross between having allergies and the flu. I am appropriately caring for myself. Today’s only message is that self care, is our number one priority. My body, your body carries your soul.
As we prepare for the last official weekend of summer- the Labor Day Weekend, ask yourself “How am I caring for myself?” Are there medical, dental or psychological appointments  to make? Are there life style changes to make? Do one positive thing for your body today.
And if you’ve come to like this blog, please give me feed back. What did you like? What don’t you like. What do you want to read more about? Less? Do you have questions or perhaps another perspective or story to share?
I appreciate your time. Make it a healthy day wherever you are today.
The Addict Writes

FEAR Who’s Running Your Show?

Dear Readers,

I live with unidentified fear. Chaos was the   legacy of my childhood.  I am hyper-vigilant looking for what bad may come and how to protect myself.

For those of unfamiliar with the term “hyper-vigilance” it works like this:
Our father(or your father) at 2:30 in the morning pushes open our bedroom door. You know he’s coming because you have heard him arguing with your mother downstairs in the kitchen. By the time he flicks on the light switch and orders me and my sister out of bed, we are already alert and scared. (Whether he had his belt in hand, I don’t recall.)
If this happened once it can happen again. You think if you can see it coming- anticipate chaos- you can do something about it. Even if the only thing you do is be less scared. In the meantime, you remain  . on high alert. Which causes muscles to ache and is just wearying .

Over the years, I have battled with fear of betrayal and abandonment. Because in the end, thats what I fear most.

Drugs were not the only thing I used to quell my fear of being alone- because wasn’t I always going to be betrayed and then abandoned.
When I feel that either of those two things might occur, I first of all get really angry. “How Dare You Abandon Me?’ “You can’t do that because I’m going to leave you or better yet, Leave!”

Then, I get sad and weepy and feel betrayed and abandoned.
Well that person running my show was that nine year, scared and hoping not to get hurt.

For all of you who have suffered my 9 year old wrath, I’m sorry and I’m still working on myself.
Who’s running your show?

The Addict Writes

Self- Blame Shame and Forgiveness

Dear Readers,
Often times drug addiction is correlated to early childhood trauma. The same way the brain remembers the unexpectedly good, it remembers the unexpectedly bad.
When something bad happens to us as a child we do not have the mental capacity to reconcile why what happened to us happened. As children we see ourselves as all powerful- so we must blame ourselves for what someone did to us. And when we cannot reconcile wrong we create shame. Shame is a dangerous thing. With guilt you know you’ve done something wrong, and you can reason with yourself how to ameliorate, or lessen the damage you have caused to yourself or others. With shame you cannot figure out what to do to make things right- mostly with you.
Years ago when in rehab I shared a shameful secret that I had kept secret for 31 years. It was difficult to tell even my therapist. Somehow I got out the sordid tale of whipping the neighbor’s dog afterI had been whipped. I was nine, and was recovering from a cut across my thigh where I had been beaten with an electrical cord.
” I’m sorry Brownie.” That was the dog’s name. More importantly, I’m sorry little Brianna, I could not save you from our father’s whip and mental illness. I’m sorry Dad for what your father did to you.
The Addict Writes

An Attempted Suicide and A Happy Birthday

Dear Readers,
I’m glad to be alive today, it’s my birthday today! Twenty years ago at the height or the bottom of my crack cocaine addiction, I took 3x the amount of a prescription drug called Depakote- it’s for seizures- so that I could go to sleep.
Before I swallowed the pills with cheap white wine, I said to myself, “This could kill me.’ And I swallowed the pills.
I woke up 4:30AM the next morning. I threw myself onto my knees and promised God that if he took away my craving for crack- that I would be his forever. (And I am- although I don’t go to church or prosletize. I do good, where its needed and where the need for good finds me.)
I then called my sister, Beverly who had the means to pay for my 21 day in patient treatment program. She saved my life- I don’t know how long it might have taken me to get an inpatient bed through the state of Washington. Months, perhaps.  Her act of love and kindness probably saved me from prostitution and jail.
So thank you my dear sweet sister, Beverly for preventing a possible future of jail and degradation, and for the possibility of the life I now have.
The Addict Writes