Addiction and Substance Abuse Disorder are devastating Diseases. The residual effects of these mental disorders in turn effect so many more than the suffering individual. In many ways, it is a Family Disorder. Family is the fundamental unit of society. Indeed, it is the family that the person who suffers generally interact with the most. The widely unspoken tragedy of these illnesses is that those who are suffering often lack insight into the severity of their illness, and their behaviors in turn. This is due to both psychological and physiological deficits, for the mind and body are one. Unified in their resolve to protect itself from harm.
The intent of this page is to predominantly help the loved ones of those who suffer gain essential insight and understanding into the complexities of what it means to suffer from these devastating illnesses. Helping a loved one who suffers in the way that we do is no easy feat. It is a fine line to walk, and hidden messages and erronous intent to reform so easily result in devastating consequences, throughing your loved one who is suffering further into their own demons. Here, I will provide examples and relevant content from my own, very real, experiences. Used to help you cultivate the highest form of knowledge, Empathy.
The following Link is an educational exercise, drawn from my own personal narratives, that addresses the theme of denial and accountabilty. When it comes to reprimand and reform, how you choose to approach your loved one who is suffering can make All the Difference.
Gaslighting
“In the beginning, they mandated very degrading obligations that I was forced to abide by. I had to stay in the same room with the kids at all times, I was not allowed to leave the room with any child for any reason, out of earshot or eyesight, so that I would not speak about them negatively in front of the children. Disparage them. If one of the kids wanted to play with me in another room I would have to look over my shoulder and make eye contact with Liz to see if it was okay for me to walk into the next room, which, of course, it never was. So she would interject and try to justify why I was not able to do so. So I felt like a bitch on a leash. It was very degrading and very shame inducing. Completely unnecessary. It took so much out of me to be treated that way, especially since I was already so very afraid every time I went over there.“
Gabriel had been saying goodbye to me a couple of days ago as we were sitting on the electrical box outside in front of the house.. He was saying how he wanted more support and more time with me. I agreed. I was hugging him and trying to comfort him and spend just a few more minutes with him. The garage door opened and I just bolted. My fear instincts were instantaneous. I started running down the street as fast as I could. And that is so psychologically unhealthy for me and for my child. And she called me on it. But I was so afraid. I had been engrained to be fearful of that woman. She called after me down the street. ‘Get back here!’ She was talking to me under pretenses of love and affection. Some of it was pretty believable. I hold no malice told you, she had said. But at the end the objective of the conversation was merely a scare tactic to remind me who is in control of my family. Who is in control of the situation. She reprimanded me for causing inner conflict within my children by not following the rigidity of the rules and timeframe that I was obligated to abide by. And I actually felt bad about that. I agreed. I do not want to cause my children inner conflict. I do not want them to be torn and conflicted. And I said that I would be better about that. She broke down my defenses and lured me in for a hug, as much as I hesitated to do so. I broke down and started crying in earnest. I sobbed and I said, ‘It is just so hard to be away from my children.’ She genuinely acted loving and concerned, Then she said, ‘You wouldn’t want me to get another restraining order on you, would you? You don’t want me to file another restraining order?’ I recoiled in fear and sobbed, ‘No! No!’ And I thought to myself at that moment, ‘The first one was unjust enough! Why would you put another one on me?’ She was using scare tactics on me and putting me back in my place essentially to honor the initial contract that stipulated that I not disparage them. To try harder to stuff down the injustice of it all. To bury my emotions. To cover up the indignity of it all. And I will, for my children. Because I do not want to cause them inner conflict. But it is not helping my inner conflict at all.
“I am finding it incredibly difficult to find my voice. Because my voice keeps getting smothered. When will I be enough to be a mother again?“
-Drowning in Madagascar
“I am finding it incredibly difficult to find my voice. Because my voice keeps getting smothered. They hold all the cards. They have the lawyer, the funds, the resources. The prerogative that they have my family and my life in their hands. And I try so hard to do what they want me to do. Yet all of the sudden when she talked to me yesterday, I noticed something very distinctly. The whole time she was talking to me in the street, she did not mention my sobriety at all. She did not mention my additions. She did not accuse me of not being sober. She did not mention drug use at all. Which I thought was very strange, I kept waiting for her to say something, to bring it up. But what she did was she just started berating me on my mothering skills. How I never cooked enough. I wasn’t a good enough cook, I didn’t cook enough meals. Or, when we got Gabriel, he was a year and a half behind in reading and you did not study with him enough. Or you did not do this right or you did not do that right. She pretty much started telling me everything that I did not do well as a mother, and that they had to correct my children because I was a negligent parent essentially. I had wanted to say that parenting is ideally a two person job. And you know what? My husband and I are not perfect. But guess what? No parents are perfect. We tried to study with him, we did our best. I never thought that I was a bad mother. I knew that I could be better in some areas. But what jarred me about the conversation was that suddenly it was not about completing steps A, B, and C anymore. It was not about drug use or sobriety. The feeling that I got was that she… and you know, this might sound harsh. But the feeling that I got was that she was using my children as a bargaining chip. As leverage. Because, you know, she has my family. And she is telling me, ‘If only I were a better cook, if only I were a better, more studious mother, if only I were this and that, then, and only then, maybe you could have your children back. Maybe you could have your family back sooner.’ And so instead of having an end in sight to this hell that I have been living through, all of the sudden it transitioned into, ‘Shit. I am not going to get my children back until this woman approves of me. And this is a woman, who I have come to realize, will never be pleased with me. I will never be enough for her. And that leads me to believe that there will be no end to this nightmare. That I will never get my family back, and I know that I will. But if I have to wait until that woman is pleased with me, this could never end. Because I will never be enough for her. And it has just taken me this long to realize that. And that is the scary part. Because all of the sudden I thought there was an end in sight. I thought that I was close. But now I realize the power play that is going on here. When will I be enough to be a mother again?”
“There was a time when my daughter was sick. My baby. Liz called me and said that she was feeling sick, that she was feeling ill. I had the audacity to cave into my motherly instincts. I asked her, ‘Could I come see her today because she is sick?’ And she hesitated, and paused for a moment. Then she said, ‘Well I don’t think that is a good idea. She is sick.’ And, in my mind, I am screaming, ‘I know! That is why I want to see her! She is my child! She is sick! Don’t you understand?!?’ I could never say these things out loud. But I was holding back the rage. It is not easy to take that. Everything about it was so wrong. So unjust and unnatural. “
“Liz wanted a family picture taken. I wasn’t interested in being in the family picture, to tell you the truth. I did not feel like family. They did not treat me like family. I had been alone for months. So I did not feel like smiling for the camera and being part of the picture. But that is not the point. She pulled me aside and asked me, almost quizzically, ‘Would you like to be in the family picture?’ Almost as if she meant to say, ‘You know, you’re not really a part of the family, but we’ll give you a chance.’ It was very jarring. I do not know how to describe it. It was unnatural. Kind of like I had a special invitation to be part of a family picture when my children….they are my children. Naturally, I did not smile in the photo.”
Trauma
“You know what is crazy, is that I can still hear her voice. What I am about to say happened over a year ago. Fourteen months ago. I heard Liz come in. She was loud and stomping. She never…she never barges in like that. And I was in my bedroom, packing away my life in boxes. And she started yelling at me. She started scolding me for…she accused me..she said. ‘You are acting like a rebellious teenager…get off of your lazy butt and start acting like an adult.’ She cornered me in my own bedroom and verbally assaulted me. I tried so hard to ward her off. I said, ‘Stop! Stop! Please stop! I got the message. Please stop!’ I was pleading with her to stop, but she kept going. ‘You can’t even make your husband a decent meal. Blah blah this and blah blah that. But this…this attack on me. When I was already sad. I was already upset. I was already traumatized. To berate me and back me up in a corner and to tell me how horrible I am. ‘Get your lazy ass and start doing something! You are acting like a child!”
“Everytime I hear them call me “Grandma” It feels like being struck with a searing hot fire poker. I know they cannot help it. I know that it is irrational for me to feel this hostility inside for something that they do not have control over. But is a constant reminder, nonetheless, of the unjustness of it all. Sober. How many days since I have taken any pills? I had lost count. Sober. How many days has it been since I have posed any kind of threat? Sober. How many days has it been since I have done any injustice? Sober. Sober. Sober. Sober fucking sober.”
“I hear a shrill wail and I turn around quickly. I see that my child is injured. I instinctively reach out my arms for a desperate embrace. I want to hold her and never let go. But I see it. I see it play over and over again in my mind when I lie down at night, always alone and in the darkness. Unmedicated and sober. So painfully sober. A pain far worse than anything I tried to self medicate away with the drugs that got me into this mess in the first place. And I am able to remember every single moment with searing clarity. There are no soft edges to this memory. No doubt that it was real. Every day is a nightmare. I live it everyday and experience it every night. She is running, almost as if in slow motion. She runs to me and I stretch my arms ever further. She runs right past me and straight into the arms of her grandmother. I am absolutely crushed. Devastated. Heartbroken beyond words. With no drugs, no mind altering substance to ease the indescribable pain and psychological torment. I try to hold it in. I feel the fire burning. Rising up within me. I try to push it down. Push it down, down, down, just as I have done every single time I have to go over there. I can’t. I won’t any longer and I run. I run from that God awful place as fast as I can. I do not stop until I reach my house next door. I slam the door behind me as hard as I possibly can and I scream. I let out the most God awful racked and tormented scream I have ever heard. And it scared me.”
The Nature of Trauma Response
In the following audio clip of myself, I reference a central, yet still unknown character who I will introduce personally in the 4th installment of the “Drowning in Madagascar ” series, “My Former Sweetheart. “This narrative brings context to the psychological repurcussions of Trauma
The Physiology of Trauma Responses
“As a Nursing Student, I have significant interest in the physiological responses that occured during my own experiences with a vast array of trauma. Behaviors that mystefied me. Behaviors that continued to occur months after the inital trauma had ceases. These experiences fascinated me, and I wanted to learn and understand why my own body was reacting in this way, as I will research in further detail in my book. The body has very find tuned responses to protect itself. It really is an amazing thing. Just as the body is programmed to respond to physical danger, so to, is it trained to protect itself when the mind and soul are under attack.”
–Drowning in Madagascar
Drowning in Madagascar 