Last week, I was really inspired to write about acknowledging the recovering addict's accomplishments, rather than only remembering them for their failures in addiction. I knew then there would be another post similar to the first, because that's how my mind works. It's a pain in the ass sometimes, because I'll barely get one thought or idea verbalized (most of the time, not even that far) when another one comes crashing in, clamoring for attention. My husband's the same way. He's called me (hands-free, of course) on his drive home from work because he's had a brilliant idea out of nowhere, and he knows that if it isn't written down somewhere, it will be, "Poof!" Gone! Give us both a little caffeine, and we'll go in circles for hours together.
Now where was I? Oh yeah. Addicts. (See what I mean?) As previously mentioned, I'm passionate about supporting those in "recovery." I personally prefer to refer to this particular stage of my disease as "remission." "Recovery," to me, means I'm getting better. While I understand that my body and mind are indeed recuperating from the effects of my "drug of choice (alcohol)," my disease is only in remission. It's always there, just as ugly, and just waiting for the next go-round. It should scare you to know that addiction is considered a progressive and aggressive disease. It doesn't matter how many years of sobriety you have under your belt; all it takes is just one moment of over-confidence, or one case of the, "eff-its," and not only are you in exactly the same shape you were in before you quit, you are quickly on your way to the next circle of hell. (Notice I didn't say, "One moment of weakness?" That's because it's not a weakness. It's a disease. Which brings me to...) Recently, I posted a video on Facebook of a town hall meeting in which Governor Chris Christie delivers a passionate plea to America to rethink views on addiction and treatment. While I do not agree with Mr. Christie's politics, this speech was absolutely spot on. He suggests that we should actually be proactive with regards to helping someone who's struggling with addiction, instead of waiting for them to screw up and then punishing them. Truly a refreshing perspective and approach. But here's why I don't think we're quite ready for it just yet: Anonymity. Alcoholics Anonymous has saved countless lives, and it's basic formula for recovery has spawned dozens of other "Anonymous" support groups. Finding yourself addicted to one or more of the Seven Deadly Sins? Don't worry. There's a support group's shoulder somewhere for you to rest your weary head upon. And while these support groups might not be the answer to every addict's question, they certainly do provide you with a place to begin finding some footing in your new world. It's also a great place to learn that you're really not alone. So, if that's true, and it's really okay to admit I have a problem, why do I have to be so secretive about it? Why are we so ashamed of our disease that we don't even share our last names? Do we feel the same when it's another, more socially accepted, life-threatening illness? Not so much. So how in the hell do I find the courage to admit that I'm all of those things that my culture has defined an addict to be? Much like so many of you, I was raised to believe that addicts are weak, untrustworthy, lying and selfish creatures. The lowest of the low. And when our addictions are in an active phase, that's a very accurate description. But while it's said that the first step is admitting that you have a problem, I'm not sure that's entirely true. Inside my head, I knew for a very long time that I had lost control. Part of the reason it took me so long to seek assistance was the shame. The shame of admitting that I was defeated, again, and no better than any of my pre-conceived notions of an addict. I am that addict. I have hit bottom, and continued to dig, always praying it would be the last, last time. Always hoping for a different outcome, even though I always seemed to do exactly the same thing every time. Not exactly something I want to share at the Thanksgiving table with members of my family who (mostly) know and love me, let alone with a room full of people I don't know who won't even be divulging their last names. I mean, I know why so many people feel that personal anonymity is of utmost priority. And I am completely respectful when it comes to others' privacy as well. I just wish we didn't have to be so very afraid of coming out of the medicine chest to finally seek the help we need. Guys, let's get this figured out! People are dying. For every addict able to "get a bed" in a treatment facility, there are literally thousands more out there dying while they're waiting for a bed of their own. Mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, sisters, brothers. Best friends. Husbands and wives. This disease doesn't discriminate when selecting it's next victim. And sadly, there just aren't enough beds and isn't enough money to help everyone out there. (Don't worry, I didn't hire Sara McLachlin to sing a mournful tune in the background.) What I would like to ask of you, if you've come this far, is to try to think twice before assuming those fighting this fight are simply weak people who've made bad choices. There's so much more to us than that (isn't there with everyone?). A lot of us are just scared to death to be honest not only with ourselves, or with complete strangers, but with the people around us we consider to be our loved ones. What if I throw it all out there on the line, only to have you decide that I'm just not worth the heartache? I can suggest at least something to those of you who live with or are affected personally by someone with an addiction. There are also support groups for folks walking in your moccasins that can help you navigate through this unwelcome territory. I can get you all kinds of information on the subject; just leave me a message, and I can help you find something close to you. Sometimes just knowing you're not alone can actually be an even bigger relief than admitting you have a problem. Personally, I'm no longer concerned about my own anonymity. This doesn't mean I'm going to include the part about being an alcoholic on my resume`. But a really nice guy once told me, "You know you should have been dead at least 100 times!" And he is absolutely correct. I can see that now. I'm one of the lucky ones who's survived. Not everyone makes it out to write a clever blog, and I've known far too many who've either surrendered, or been defeated by this monster. This ravenous, toothy beast with as many different sets of teeth as there are addictions to be had. This is a fight I've fought for many years, and will continue to fight as long as I have breath...my personal monster has some BIG ol' teeth! So, have a good week, friends. Be nice to a stranger, be nice to someone you love, and remember to be nice to yourself, too. Try to remember that everyone walks a different path and wears different moccasins than you. Basically, just be a good human. Much love and Bright Blessings to you! Tammi-
3 Comments
Cathi
11/15/2015 10:56:00 pm
Thank you Tammi,You are so right about all that you said here.I agree..We should not ever be ashamed of who we are today.I am very proud of you for your success in recovery.God bless you and your family..Keep me in the blog..I would love to follow your tboughts..
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Tammi VanBuskirk
11/16/2015 02:20:09 am
Thank you Cathi - I'm glad to have your support...you know you have mine <3. You can subscribe to my blog by clicking the "RSS Feed" button on the bottom right of any blog entry. I think, lol. I try to update once a week. Bright blessings to you my friend! May your feet continue to find solid ground :-)
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Teri S.
11/18/2015 04:02:38 pm
This was very compelling! Your writing is expressive and captivating. Thanks so much for sharing. I learned a lot by reading this (addiction isn't my personal vice, though we all have something, don't we?) but what you're saying about the anonymity makes so much sense. And you're right - you shouldn't be ashamed of your struggle, and you shouldn't have to hide your fight. I have a feeling your blog, your words, are very helpful to a lot of people who can't articulate their thoughts the way you obviously can. I'm really glad to see you're working on staying in recovery and that you're brave enough to share your journey out loud. xx
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