The Thin Gray Line #189

Greetings. Today, Heavell is sharing the words of Vicky DiNicola, a mother who lost her dream to an overdose in August of 2020. She is a sometime warrior in a variety of ways and a wonderful writer. Lean in as you read her words so that you may not only perceive of her but also find understanding for you. This is a journey that holds similarities for all of us but our details are what defines this in a personal and individual way just like it does for each addict. We each have to find what we can or cannot do while always expressing that answer with love on the inside as well as on the outside of ourselves. What do you believe is your thin gray line? How do you feel about that? Every dream matters whether here or not. Be kind and be loud as you have the best day possible for you. Love Always, Heavell

Traditional addiction therapy and recovery experts have always coached the mothers, fathers, siblings, family members and friends of those struggling with addiction to steer away from offerings of food, housing and financial support for fear of “enabling” the addict. “Let them hit bottom” they say. “If you give them resources they’ll only use it for drugs and alcohol” they say. This was a common mantra in our family dealing with our adult son who was an heroin addict but also an insulin dependent diabetic with special medical, nutritional and behavioral health needs. It’s complex and it’s stressful to know which side of that thin gray line to stay on. Were we “enabling” or “supporting” him? We wanted to support his medical and nutritional needs without enabling his addiction. It was a constant battle for us.

To combat this “enabling vs. supporting” game, we conjured up lots of tricks. We would call in a pizza or food for pick up rather than send him cash. We would send him gift cards that could only be spent at the grocery store so that he couldn’t trade it on his last fatal dose of heroin, meth or other cocktails of life sucking drugs. On rare occasions we even made home cooked meals and delivered them to his latest crash pad, complete with clothing, blankets and hygiene supplies. Anything but give him cash. Of course we always gave him the option to come home and often times he did. He stayed for months at a time working on his recovery until eventually he decided to go out on his own again, despite all our concerns and objections. In the end we learned the only thing we were managing was our own fear. What we learned is that heroin addicts will say anything, even to their mothers that they love so much, in order to get their next fix. They will lie. They will manipulate. They will play on the emotions of those who love them the most. They will do this even when they hit their absolute bottom.

So looking back at that thin gray line, here is what I now believe. First, there is no play book that helps you to distinguish between the real needs of your loved one and their addiction. Assuming the first premise is true, then the only play is to sincerely, honestly and non-judgmentally connect with your loving addict. Keeping the lines of communication wide open and safe from harsh criticism and judgement is everything. As long as you have a safe communication channel you might be able to distinguish between the honest bodily needs and the addiction but be smart about the bull shit. Call them on that when you need to but draw them back quickly and with love. I’ll be honest, there were lots of times when it was just easier to send the cash rather than engage in deep conversations. There were even a few times during our 18 year journey when we just “busted his balls” for the poor choices he made. But in the end I believe that navigating through the frustration and irritation of your addict’s latest “failure” with calm, cool, nonjudgmental and even a loving attitude is everything.

I won’t promise you that this is a recipe for success. The last night that we spoke with our son Michael, we had a great talk and we made plans to see each other in the following days. Our conversation was filled with humor, love and understanding. It was also filled with some dialogue about personal accountability and a few words of guidance about his health. But in the end there was love. A few days later Michael caught a bad batch of heroin combined with fentanyl and accidentally overdosed. He died on August 28, 2020.

After years of rehab programs and family counseling with our son, my husband and I can honestly look in the mirror and say we did everything that we could to create a different outcome. In the end, it was Michael’s choice to continue his journey into self-destruction. But we can look back and say the last conversation we had with Michael was loving and positive. That’s all we can do. That’s perhaps all that Michael could do as well. In the end, positive and loving communication was everything. We don’t look back and feel we enabled our son. Instead, we supported him to the best of our ability. While at times that line between support and enablement was hazy and unclear, we were always conscious of that line and tried to honor the boundaries. It’s no easy path but we encourage others on this journey to look for their own guideposts and to define their own thin gray line.

Weeds #188

Weeds are things, moments and feelings that can be found anywhere but more importantly is how they live and breathe on the inside of us where they are especially unwanted. They compete for our attention against our flowers and can trick us into believing that they are all that we are by using our grief as a reminder of what has been done, lost and a failure. They are so strong that even just one can find it’s way through a closed door into the light so that it’s voice may be heard in our thoughts and then expressed in our behaviors as well as the words that we say. When we least expect them, a moment can remind us of what lives there, sending us backwards and further encouraging us to believe that we are exactly what those weeds appear to say we are. What’s not there, though, is the understanding that they, those weeds, hold the hope that we will keep them close not as confirmation of being impossible but as a part of our turning ourselves into something else. After all, within them is the unseen and unthought of definition, a different truth, that we have always needed to lean in to hear instead of listening to the pain that so easily exists in our hearts and minds. In any kind of life, the “f” moments, meandering and the BLAH are a part of our finding our own way as the individual definers of terms such as beauty, breathing, messes, brave and being home. Wanting just flowers, then, may be what we think we should have but because this is life in a so very heavell way, the people, places, things and feelings that we experience will hold all that can be found within them and around them just as we do. In other words, in a distorted field of view, others may appear to only have flowers or happiness but conflict or hell from their moments is never really that far away particularly in that place that can’t be seen from the outside. It’s what we do with those weeds that determines what we believe about ourselves and then what we share to the outside. It also effects whether we are home within ourselves or looking for that feeling through people, places or things such as substances. This doesn’t have to be perfect but it does have to be the all of you because what has already been can’t be undone nor can you just get over what’s breathing there. This weekend is the two year mark of the beginning of Ryan’s fall into that three week battle for his life. I remember every moment, thought and feeling from that time as if it were yesterday. Chaos doesn’t always bring out the best in us and our fear of the uncertainty can pound so loudly in our hearts that just the act of breathing can be a challenge that lasts well into the tomorrows. Since his death, I have experienced a lot of feelings that have made me uncomfortable which really has been very much like how I felt over the years of his addiction despite the different details. Along the way of both, I have had moments of bravery, strength, weakness, fear, sometime warrior actions, the discovery of superpowers and a whole lot of meandering while also falling in my words and actions. I was also in the position of hating every weed that has been a part of this journey, there’s my angry voice of fear, making it hard to find understanding for Ryan’s words of “be grateful for the lessons mom especially the tough ones” that came towards the end of his life. The thought of “what if” he had figured that out sooner instead of hating his weeds has hurt a lot in my heart but thinking and feeling that won’t change what has already been. It doesn’t really matter that he was the addict and that I was the mother trying to help him save himself because all of it is intertwined in our feeding of the hell but it does matter that those weeds eventually helped us to transform ourselves, bringing us home, even though it was a painful way to go through. So how are you feeling about the “f” moments in your life especially those dreaded ones? Are you feeling safe with you or do you need more time to stop feeding the hell that lives there? This starts with you so open that door and get comfortable with those weeds because wherever you go, they will follow so you might as well be who you are and transform them into the definition of what’s possible. Be kind, be loud and grab some tissues for those tears that live deep within you from what makes you laugh until your stomach hurts and of course your pain. Have the best day possible for you. Love Always, Heavell