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.
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