How a city girl, gone country grieves
(and raises cows)
This week I’m celebrating a one year anniversary of sorts.
(Before I share this, let me preface by saying the nature of this post may hit close to home for many of you. There are no easy, nice ways of broaching the subject, very few silver linings and every one experiences it considerably different. What I share here is raw and unfiltered; it’s my truth. This is my personal testimony; one I encountered and survived and not without help from outside counseling, resources, a whole lot of prayers and my relationship with Jesus.)
The addiction crisis in our nation is staggering and touches just about every life in some capacity, regardless the socio-economic, vocational or educational background. It’s a nasty demon, addiction. It knows no boundaries, destroys lives and shows no mercy. It’s relentless and ever-growing, and there is little one can do to stop its overwhelming hold on our culture. It creates monsters and slaves out of men, women and even children. It ruthlessly steals lives from this earth, both in body and spirit, and it is an effective tool of the devil to promote division.
I know: I’m a parent of an addict.
In August 2016, my connection with my child was severed by her addiction and in one powerful surge it swept her away from me and into a silent void. I suffered in those dark hours of the night, on my knees, crying in agony for my child. I laid out prostate on my face, screaming into the floor. I have wakened suddenly, hot tears flowing down my face, stretching out my arms as if to pass her into the hands of God. My prayer always pleading "please, take her, save her, return her." I reached out, begged, threatened, investigated and tirelessly wept. I tried turning my back (I now have a glimpse what God feels like when we turn from Him in our rebellion). I tried denial, anger, depression, seclusion and exposure. As a mother, it’s excruciating. Regularly I would wake suddenly with a panic, in a cold sweat, simply KNOWING there is something terribly wrong and being completely helpless; and the countless hours of NOT KNOWING.
At one point, it came down to contacting the morgues, which were (and are) filling at a terrifying rate. As the days turned to weeks and the weeks to months, the more desperate I became and the less I cared about the opinions of others. I experienced abandonment from family and friends; their egos too fragile for my truth. In the same breath, I discovered support from myriad unexpected sources; all of whom prayed in length with and for me as we called out to God to return my child to her family and break the grip of addiction. Every time the phone rang, my heart would stop and my face would flush. Every time I spoke with my other child, who was also struggling in worrisome darkness and pining for her sister, we would comfort each other or fight. Shame and blame games were the roulette wheel of many a conversation. Realizing it is HER CHOICE then recognizing CAN SHE CHOOSE? Understanding the deep root of addiction is so vital to one’s survival, whether as a family member in crisis or the addict herself.
Little breaks would occur, like miniscule signs from heaven that He’s working it out. Finally, in February 2017, toward the first birthday of our grandson (who belonged to this child and from whom we’d been kept), a more significant connection was building between my daughters as she
started to emerge from the depth of the murkiness she was in and reaching out to her sister. One morning, barely light, the phone rang. It was my child; and for three hours of tearful conversation, we laid fresh ground from which to build. The next several weeks entailed multiple trips to visit her, our grandson and aid as much as we were able in her process of recovery. It was a roller coaster ride of treatment, therapy, relapses and rehabilitation. Addicts are always addicts; it’s whether they’re in recovery that makes or breaks them. This reality check is pretty expensive for some, and many will bankrupt their families until their dying breath; literally and emotionally.
Furthermore, few families of addicts are willing to seek the addict. After reuniting, I looked directly at my child and asked for the ugly truth. I needed to understand that while I was in agony by her actions, she was in pain too in another realm; an obscure, seedy, terrifying realm filled with other people also in pain and agony and the filth that preyed on their desperation. Drugs just treat their SYMPTOMS until they become a way of life. Most addicts, she shared, were so deeply withdrawn from reality that they didn't even really recognize they HAD a family (be it their parents, siblings or their own children); their only existence was scoring that next high and literally at any cost. As she shared some of the more horrific details of some of her own experiences, my heart grew heavier for the families of these addicts; and for the addicts themselves.
We cannot believe that all life is precious and overlook that these are HUMAN BEINGS; flesh and blood and spirit. These are daughters, wives, husbands, brothers, uncles, cousins, sons, friends, employers, teachers, even medical professionals that are caught in an UNCOMPROMISING web of self-destruction. This problem goes beyond personal struggle into the increased potency of the drugs themselves, further manifesting the addiction. This increased potency is DELIBERATELY devised and controlled by the dealers, who are ALSO daughters, wives, husbands, brothers, uncles, cousins, sons, friends, employers, teachers and YES EVEN MEDICAL PROFESSIONALS. “For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.” This has never been more prevalent than the growing pandemic of the drug crisis.
My child suffers incurable memories. She carries deep wounds that will never heal a hardened heart to the maddening cycle of addiction. She will fight the rest of her life against it. She identifies her triggers, continues her counseling, and knows that while it will never be over, it will at least be on her terms. I’m proud of the woman she is, the woman she’s becoming; as a "phoenix" she will emerge from the ashes and these experiences will dim in the shadow of her wings. Her addiction will no longer define her, though she will recognize it is part of her.
It has been exactly one year since we reunited, and I celebrate her life, our life, all life. I’m so grateful the Lord spared her and allowed us to reconnect. I have learned so much about her personal struggles, the sickening spiral that addiction creates, the senselessness of it all. I have become more aware of those in our communities, that while I pray for their recovery, I am cautious about caring. My daughter’s experience has taught me more than I care to know about the drudgery of drug addiction, and she has opened my eyes to the spiritual forces behind its domain. It’s no wonder at all why we are taught to "pray without ceasing!"
I share this as a story of hope. I know that I am extremely fortunate. I know that for many parents, this is an ongoing nightmare that seems to have no end. I know there are some families who have completely disconnected from their addict to pursue their own lives apart from their madness. I know some folks are in morgues to identify the shell of who was once their bundle of joy, innocent and untouched. I know that there are no words of comfort that can console the ache from the "not knowing" pain. I know there are even some families that pray for “that call” to come, that some peace could rest over them even in their loss. I can relate to the anxious sleepless nights and the tireless misery associated with just getting through each hour of every lengthening day.
I know that God in His mercy is with us and is working things out. It’s not His will that our loved ones would succumb to addiction; rather the enemy, who comes as a lion seeking to destroy.
I also know there is a place of peace between the frail shelter of insufficient sleep and severe reality of consciousness. In that fleeting breath of peace, I know God resides and His angels are united in one voice calling to our loved ones in their gloom. I know that hope is alive, and even with our worn and weary cries, it thrives. Pray without ceasing, and keep breathing. Hope lives in every next breath.
(Before I share this, let me preface by saying the nature of this post may hit close to home for many of you. There are no easy, nice ways of broaching the subject, very few silver linings and every one experiences it considerably different. What I share here is raw and unfiltered; it’s my truth. This is my personal testimony; one I encountered and survived and not without help from outside counseling, resources, a whole lot of prayers and my relationship with Jesus.)
The addiction crisis in our nation is staggering and touches just about every life in some capacity, regardless the socio-economic, vocational or educational background. It’s a nasty demon, addiction. It knows no boundaries, destroys lives and shows no mercy. It’s relentless and ever-growing, and there is little one can do to stop its overwhelming hold on our culture. It creates monsters and slaves out of men, women and even children. It ruthlessly steals lives from this earth, both in body and spirit, and it is an effective tool of the devil to promote division.
I know: I’m a parent of an addict.
In August 2016, my connection with my child was severed by her addiction and in one powerful surge it swept her away from me and into a silent void. I suffered in those dark hours of the night, on my knees, crying in agony for my child. I laid out prostate on my face, screaming into the floor. I have wakened suddenly, hot tears flowing down my face, stretching out my arms as if to pass her into the hands of God. My prayer always pleading "please, take her, save her, return her." I reached out, begged, threatened, investigated and tirelessly wept. I tried turning my back (I now have a glimpse what God feels like when we turn from Him in our rebellion). I tried denial, anger, depression, seclusion and exposure. As a mother, it’s excruciating. Regularly I would wake suddenly with a panic, in a cold sweat, simply KNOWING there is something terribly wrong and being completely helpless; and the countless hours of NOT KNOWING.
At one point, it came down to contacting the morgues, which were (and are) filling at a terrifying rate. As the days turned to weeks and the weeks to months, the more desperate I became and the less I cared about the opinions of others. I experienced abandonment from family and friends; their egos too fragile for my truth. In the same breath, I discovered support from myriad unexpected sources; all of whom prayed in length with and for me as we called out to God to return my child to her family and break the grip of addiction. Every time the phone rang, my heart would stop and my face would flush. Every time I spoke with my other child, who was also struggling in worrisome darkness and pining for her sister, we would comfort each other or fight. Shame and blame games were the roulette wheel of many a conversation. Realizing it is HER CHOICE then recognizing CAN SHE CHOOSE? Understanding the deep root of addiction is so vital to one’s survival, whether as a family member in crisis or the addict herself.
Little breaks would occur, like miniscule signs from heaven that He’s working it out. Finally, in February 2017, toward the first birthday of our grandson (who belonged to this child and from whom we’d been kept), a more significant connection was building between my daughters as she
started to emerge from the depth of the murkiness she was in and reaching out to her sister. One morning, barely light, the phone rang. It was my child; and for three hours of tearful conversation, we laid fresh ground from which to build. The next several weeks entailed multiple trips to visit her, our grandson and aid as much as we were able in her process of recovery. It was a roller coaster ride of treatment, therapy, relapses and rehabilitation. Addicts are always addicts; it’s whether they’re in recovery that makes or breaks them. This reality check is pretty expensive for some, and many will bankrupt their families until their dying breath; literally and emotionally.
Furthermore, few families of addicts are willing to seek the addict. After reuniting, I looked directly at my child and asked for the ugly truth. I needed to understand that while I was in agony by her actions, she was in pain too in another realm; an obscure, seedy, terrifying realm filled with other people also in pain and agony and the filth that preyed on their desperation. Drugs just treat their SYMPTOMS until they become a way of life. Most addicts, she shared, were so deeply withdrawn from reality that they didn't even really recognize they HAD a family (be it their parents, siblings or their own children); their only existence was scoring that next high and literally at any cost. As she shared some of the more horrific details of some of her own experiences, my heart grew heavier for the families of these addicts; and for the addicts themselves.
We cannot believe that all life is precious and overlook that these are HUMAN BEINGS; flesh and blood and spirit. These are daughters, wives, husbands, brothers, uncles, cousins, sons, friends, employers, teachers, even medical professionals that are caught in an UNCOMPROMISING web of self-destruction. This problem goes beyond personal struggle into the increased potency of the drugs themselves, further manifesting the addiction. This increased potency is DELIBERATELY devised and controlled by the dealers, who are ALSO daughters, wives, husbands, brothers, uncles, cousins, sons, friends, employers, teachers and YES EVEN MEDICAL PROFESSIONALS. “For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.” This has never been more prevalent than the growing pandemic of the drug crisis.
My child suffers incurable memories. She carries deep wounds that will never heal a hardened heart to the maddening cycle of addiction. She will fight the rest of her life against it. She identifies her triggers, continues her counseling, and knows that while it will never be over, it will at least be on her terms. I’m proud of the woman she is, the woman she’s becoming; as a "phoenix" she will emerge from the ashes and these experiences will dim in the shadow of her wings. Her addiction will no longer define her, though she will recognize it is part of her.
It has been exactly one year since we reunited, and I celebrate her life, our life, all life. I’m so grateful the Lord spared her and allowed us to reconnect. I have learned so much about her personal struggles, the sickening spiral that addiction creates, the senselessness of it all. I have become more aware of those in our communities, that while I pray for their recovery, I am cautious about caring. My daughter’s experience has taught me more than I care to know about the drudgery of drug addiction, and she has opened my eyes to the spiritual forces behind its domain. It’s no wonder at all why we are taught to "pray without ceasing!"
I share this as a story of hope. I know that I am extremely fortunate. I know that for many parents, this is an ongoing nightmare that seems to have no end. I know there are some families who have completely disconnected from their addict to pursue their own lives apart from their madness. I know some folks are in morgues to identify the shell of who was once their bundle of joy, innocent and untouched. I know that there are no words of comfort that can console the ache from the "not knowing" pain. I know there are even some families that pray for “that call” to come, that some peace could rest over them even in their loss. I can relate to the anxious sleepless nights and the tireless misery associated with just getting through each hour of every lengthening day.
I know that God in His mercy is with us and is working things out. It’s not His will that our loved ones would succumb to addiction; rather the enemy, who comes as a lion seeking to destroy.
I also know there is a place of peace between the frail shelter of insufficient sleep and severe reality of consciousness. In that fleeting breath of peace, I know God resides and His angels are united in one voice calling to our loved ones in their gloom. I know that hope is alive, and even with our worn and weary cries, it thrives. Pray without ceasing, and keep breathing. Hope lives in every next breath.
(Help is available for families in addiction crises. I strongly encourage you to connect with local Recovery groups; addiction is a family disease and connection is the treatment. Visit www.celebraterecovery.comiohjsubwn2 for a list of local resources. Peace be with you.)
3 comments:
Kimberly, God bless you for this poignant post. So thankful the Lord answered your fervent prayers!
Julie Edgar
What a beautiful and heartbreaking post Kimberly. Thank you so much for having the courage to share and encourage! My husband is a recovering addict and will be (God willing) clean for 17 years next month. It took many, many hours of counseling, group therapy, and couples counseling (before we were even married) to get off that spiral you speak of. I know we are EXTREMELY fortunate for being where we are! Considering how far he would go to get his fix, it's truly a miracle he is alive.
The struggle he has today, while clean from his drug of choice back then (coke), he still struggles with the pull of addictive behavior (escapism) today. Perhaps it manifests in gaming, or emotionally shutting down (not talking), or even guitar playing obsessively, but he knows it's all the same and has to be aware of where his HEAD is at all times. His recovery is an ongoing testimony of God's grace and never-ending love. I pray that your daughter find her true identity and fulfillment in Christ and rely on His strength to walk that out in daily life. There are others of us out here that understand how grueling that work is in the minutia of daily living. Sometimes recovery is truly one minute at a time. Blessings to you and your family!
Thank you for affirming me!! It's tough when we're surrounded by such stigmatism when in actuality most families are dealing with addiction or rather their denial of it on their families. Blessings to you also, God is truly merciful!!
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