We all feel something about everything. Even an inanimate object evokes feelings in us. Take a cell phone for instance. We use them. We need them. Some people cannot live without them. Based on the importance of our cellphones, we belong to the group that feels the same way about it. I had felt indifference towards mine prior to the discovery of Ryan’s drug use. After he had over-dosed, my emotional definition changed. It had been used by his “friend” to inform me of that fateful moment. I then had used it to notify family and friends as I rushed to the hospital. I had also used mine to call my friend for the words of strength that I needed daily during that trauma. My cellphone had held me hostage as I constantly checked to see where it was and that it was charged in order to be reached anywhere at anytime. Mine had become a lifeline between myself, family and friends and most importantly the people taking care of Ryan. I needed it and I hated it. Heaven or hell was at any given moment one phone call away. I had never understood why people couldn’t live without their cellphones until circumstances placed me in the position of feeling the same way.
Drugs are another inanimate object that evokes a host of different feelings depending upon how or if they affect you. My children had never actually seen their father use drugs but he would disappear during their visits for hours or even days. The draw of the apples and the relief that they offered him was stronger than any love he had for his children. When drugs take precedence over children, they are left believing the green truth; that they themselves are unlovable. It creates abandonment issues. Ashlee and Ryan’s emotional definitions of themselves and life were defined during that time; affected by not just their father but by all of us. The two of them were joined by the despair that drugs had brought into their lives. Ultimately they were separated when Ryan had listened to the snake and stepped towards the lure of the apples. It was there that he found a connection with his father; abandoning Ashlee just as he had. Everything that my children felt during that hell became clear to me when my dream turned into a nightmare. Living it lead to the discovery of emotions that I could not perceive otherwise. How can we solve this if we do not recognize that each of us feels our own way about everything created by our own emotional definitions?
Ashlee and Ryan’s life with their father did not just affect them as Taylor was thrown into hell when drugs became a part of our home life. After Ryan had gone to rehab, she believed like the rest of us, the green truth that drugs would no longer have an affect on us once he came home. While looking at Ryan laying in that bed in the ICU, she said that she had felt betrayed; angry, fearful and BETRAYED. What had that meant to her? Had Taylor and Ashlee felt the same way? The two of them had become connected as the siblings of an addict; which is a different position than a child of an addict. As the mother of all three, the fight to save him often resulted in them making and accepting sacrifices. How could we have understood each other when this was my child and their sibling? I would have fought for any of them but the circumstances along with the emotional definitions did not leave any of them feeling as if I would have. Do as I say not as I do had been a failure on my part and it had affected my children. I was a part of the circle of heavell that lead my children to where they were even though I had never realized it. I had even denied how my actions and reactions could have played a role in the descent into hell that was our life. By behaving today as I did yesterday as I would tomorrow, I was ensuring none of us would get out.
It was a different day and yet the same story. Ryan was alive because a machine was breathing for him. The doctors’ had been stunned over the lack of change. One of them told me that it was unusual for someone who had over-dosed to not be able to breathe on their own after 24 or even 48 hours; especially not 6 days later. Was it the heroin laced with fentanyl that had done this? The amount of time that had passed before he had received care? I had needed the answer because it had always been easier to blame one thing, one moment, one mistake, one person for all of it. If only Ryan had done what I said instead of feeling as he had, he would not have been lying in that ICU bed. The real truth was it was every moment, everything and all of us. With each passing day it had become clear that he was not going to be able to breathe on his own ever again. Drugs had not just claimed my son, they had claimed all of us and we would never be the same.
I know an angel that fell. So do you. The poster child is still my dream despite the nightmare. The circle of heavell teaches us to understand each other. A tree can destroy a whole forest. It’s not just one soul for sale…it’s all of us. Do as you say to do because we lead our children to where they are. Just look at the mirror and you will see. When you breathe, I breathe except you aren’t breathing.
It was Thanksgiving day. My son was in the hospital on a ventilator unable to breathe on his own since he had over-dosed on Saturday. What was there to be thankful for? What? I was consumed by that question playing it over and over in my mind. I had already been to the hospital to see him that day. I had already had that same discussion with the doctors that I had every day since this began; this was BAD. I was going through the motions of preparing a turkey for the dinner that night. I would take it out of the oven to baste it while crying. I wasn’t making any sounds but the tears were streaming down my face. I was trying to make a nice dinner for everyone and yet my son was not going to survive. There was denial for you. If I just kept doing today what I did yesterday tomorrow will be fine. It wasn’t faith that had kept me going. It was my friend DENIAL. The green truth is naïve but denial allows us to see and do what we want or are able to. Denial is born from self preservation. The mirror knows that it is the enemy of the real truth and accountability; deep down inside we know that too. It’s why we all defend to “the death” so many moments even if the cost is ourselves and or others. How are addicts any different from non-addicts if we all deny or justify our roles in the circle of heavell?
The phone rang as I stood staring at the oven. It was my stepson. He had called to ask me about Ryan. I relayed that discussion with the doctors that had never changed. He asked me if he should fly in to see him. I had told him it would probably be a good idea. I’m not sure what someone should say in response to that deliberation of “this is bad”. What words, if any, could have brought me any sort of relief from the enormous pain in my heart? That exchange has not been limited to me as many people have moved from the parent’s of a drug addict group to the parent’s of dead addicts group. Even having lived it has not provided me with the right words to say when the loss of someone else’s dream occurs. “I’m sorry” is easiest but it simply does not acknowledge enough. Now you see me, now you don’t is all of us at some point in time. As parents we need to be seen as well as our poster children; death does not ever remove a dream from a parent’s heart nor from the circle of heavell.
I loaded that turkey into my car and drove it over to my parent’s house. The smells coming from their kitchen were wondrous and had evoked many memories of my childhood. I loved Thanksgiving because it was about family being together while enjoying a special meal. It was Ryan’s favorite holiday for the same reason. Everyone there was basically acting as they had at all the previous Thanksgivings. Had they been in denial of the state of Ryan? Or was it an appearance thing? Faith? Part of me completely understood their being in the moment and the other part of me felt unsupported. There were people in the group though who made everything about themselves; I was glad they had not forced their fake support on me. Food and dialogue had been in some ways a reprieve, a distraction, from the pain.
Ashlee and I left to go to the hospital together. There was no one else I would have wanted next to me at that visit. She and I had linked our arms together while standing there staring at Ryan. With her by my side I was stronger despite my tears. I don’t know if she knew that but I was. We had been the ones who had known him at his best and at his worst. Both of us had taken a few minutes alone with him. After she left the room, I leaned over and whispered in his ear. I told him that I loved him; that I would always love him. Nothing would ever change that. Several times, over that year of addiction, people had implied or directly expressed that I should let him go. I had refused because he was MY POSTER CHILD. My dream. I then whispered the words I never imagined I would. I told Ryan that he need not stay any longer…to just let go.
One soul was sold. The snake is friends with the apple, the green truth and denial. So are we. The mirror can’t help but show the real truth. Angels do fall. My dreams are important. So are yours. How do I feel about drugs? When you breathe, I breathe. I’m not screaming anymore. I will always see you. This time I will have to let you go…
Drugs were not my problem before because they did not affect me…until they did. If they troubled you or yours then that was your problem. Indifference is convenient until you realize that the snake banks on that indifference; or even the complacency that we feel when someone is affected by something that is not our problem nor our choice. Out of sight out of mind. That false sense of security is how the snake has taken over, turning dreams into nightmares.
Judgement also helps the snake. I am guilty of feeling that I am justified in my anger over this situation. Even my anger towards everyone seen and not seen in how this came to be. My assessment though prevents me from fully looking at my role. I was sure that their “sins” were worse then mine were. I would not have reacted this way if they had not acted that way. It has allowed me to not be accountable for my actions. To claim powerlessness when in actuality I have always been more powerful than I have realized. No matter the size of the action or reaction or inaction, it carries an impact. Add them all together and moments can outweigh everything else. I am still working through my understanding of how I feel and how others feel; those emotional definitions. Anger still flares in me about certain situations especially when I see others justifying their choices. I, however, must look in the mirror so that I may see how I have helped and especially how I have harmed.
I have, in my times of desperation, wished for a superhero or a magic wand or a time traveling machine to end this nightmare. We are in hell. Reaching for or clutching at anything that will help is normal. Bargaining for the end of it has occurred on a moment to moment basis for me. I asked the question of “why” a million times expecting the answer to pop out of thin air. When it didn’t, I rolled through my anger and my sadness searching for the person responsible as well as the person who could fix this. Here we are though; no superhero, no magic wand, no way to go back and change this. Everything happens for a reason. I am a part of the circle of heavell and I have avoided the mirror too. It is so much easier to see how people and things affect us then it is to see how we affect people and things; to understand the impact we have.
Four days had passed and Thanksgiving was the next day. My ex and his father would be joining my family for dinner. Our families had never shared a holiday during our marriage. It had taken a tragedy to bring us together now. My husband and Taylor would make the drive to another city to have lunch with his family and then return in time for dinner. Instead of celebrating at our home, it would be held at my parent’s house. They were five minutes away from the hospital. Close enough that it was almost as if Ryan would be there and yet just far enough away that the nightmare was kept in the back ground. Now you see me now you don’t.
When trauma occurs, the mind, body and spirit can be over run with emotions. Those events can be as simple as being unheard, devalued, blamed, on up to extreme events that happen to us, are witnessed by us or happen to people we know. At times we handle traumas well but more often than not we fail to cope especially if they occur during our childhood. Ryan, his dad and I dealt with traumas in very similar ways despite the titles of addicts and non-addict. I had coped by ignoring things as if they would miraculously go away on their own, leaving no after effects. They had fended for themselves by using drugs to not feel their pain. All three of us did not deal appropriately and our actions or lack of affected others. It is so much easier to expect adults and children to do as we say rather than as we do.
The doctors had told us that we needed to get Ryan high top shoes. His feet were continually in a position of pointing down on the bed. That position could lead to the muscles in his feet staying that way permanently. He would have had to walk on his tippy toes. That is, if he ever was able to breathe on his own again. His father had gone out and bought the ugliest high tops that he could find. They were black with orange shoe laces. They were to serve as a shocking reminder of why they had been purchased. As his father put them on Ryan’s feet, tying them firmly, I had snapped a photo. It had reminded me of the first high top, white shoes Ryan had worn. He had walked at the age of eight months skipping over crawling as if it were a waste of time. Everything he had done in life had been “with gusto”, including his drug use. Now he was 18 years old, unable to breathe on his own and his dad was tying his shoes for him just like when he was a little child.
That day came to an end with the same conversation with the doctors as the previous days. “He should be able to breathe on his own by now. This is BAD…”. They were shocked over the lack of change in him. I was in disbelief of it. Ryan was a fighter and yet he wasn’t fighting. Why? Tell me WHY!
Breathe fallen angel breathe. The green truth is convenient. The snake is the enemy. Stop biting his apples. You sold your soul. Tricks aren’t just for drugs. Some people appear to be good. The forest is responsible for the tree. You should look in the mirror not me. Now I see you…don’t leave me. Promise?
We feel and cope based upon our emotional definitions created from our lives. We then use those definitions to justify and judge our actions as well as the actions of others. Every single action has a reaction no matter how small or how big. No matter if we see it or not. The green truth is as tricky as drugs because it justifies a limited view as well as a limited responsibility. We are all perfectly, irritatingly, messy people who listen to the snake and bite from various apples. The mirror knows that running from the truth or even denying the truth will never solve what is happening. The answer lies in the full circle of heavell because if everyone is doing the right job, no one would be here.
I had the opportunity to speak with a mother recently who expressed her fear that her child had been lying to her. Some people believe that it is normal for children to lie as a part of their developing independence. Most people don’t realize they lie on a daily basis and do not see the harm in it. In actuality we are teaching our children to lie and then blaming them for it. Do as I say not as I do. I asked this mother if she lied to her child. She said no. I asked her again. She then admitted that her child had called her out a couple of times on her behavior. There was the real truth. My response was don’t ask your child to not lie when you lie. We lead our children to where they are. We then judge them for it while justifying our own. We even deny we lead them there to begin with. The truth is ugly and no one wants to look in the mirror. Happy people with happy lives do not blow it up one day. They were lead there in a variety of ways. Its how they learned to cope.
Every day since this had begun, the doctors would tell me that Ryan should be able to breathe on his own. That he should not need the ventilator any more. Every day they had tried to wean him off it and everyday he would crash. Their last sentence would always be…This is BAD. Bad because they couldn’t solve this? Bad because medically he was dead yet alive because a machine was breathing for him? Their emotional definitions lead them to define that situation as “BAD”. My emotional definition of that situation was so much more extreme; a gut wrenching, rip my heart from my chest, I can’t breathe anymore because the poster child was no more. Bad had been at the beginning when I had first learned of his drug use. Bad had been when I had forcefully had him taken away in order to prevent this from happening. I would have taken “BAD” in a heartbeat. Day after day we had that same exact conversation.
My ex-father-in-law had flown in to town to support his son. It had been years since we had seen each other. Devastation can bring out the worst in people and I wasn’t sure what to expect. The green truth had been that I believed my ex was responsible for Ryan becoming an addict. I had choice words to describe my ex. I wasn’t sure if his father had choice words to describe me. No matter what he had been thinking or feeling, as soon as he saw me he wrapped me up in a great, big bear hug. For just a few seconds that burden was lifted and I had taken a deep breath. We were bonded. I wasn’t just his ex-daughter-in-law. We were both parents of drug addicts. We belonged to a group that neither of us imagined we would ever be a part of. It had not been his dream nor had it been mine. The difference was that his child was standing there and my lay in an I.C.U. room just down the hall. He would go back to a hotel room with his son while mine was not coming home…ever.
Behaving today as we did yesterday as we will tomorrow is how angels fall. Dreams do become nightmares. I’m still screaming and you are silent. Everyone enables. Everyone denies. The snake has baskets and baskets full of apples. Don’t take a bite. The circle of heavell sucks. Don’t look into the mirror. Keep believing the green truth. Millions of souls are for sale. Do as I say not as I do because then I don’t have to be accountable. Are you there drugs? It’s me a mother and I want my poster child back!
The snake is laughing because he whispered and the apple was eaten. He has claimed another victim. He finds his power through not only devaluing others but by replacing their emotional definitions with his own. He thrives on all pain. He celebrates the suffering because it makes people vulnerable whether an addict or not. Who is the snake? Anyone or anything that encourages running from despair or judges you while lacking accountability or decides for you what you deserve or how you feel or blah. Every day we encounter snakes. Every day those snakes create more victims. We all listen to and believe a snake as he tells us who we are and what we deserve. The green truth is that addicts are the messy people. The real truth is that we are all messy people. Behaving today as we did yesterday as we will tomorrow is exactly why we are here. Justifying it by solely looking at addicts only empowers the snake more.
The night had passed. Ryan was still alive. Still on the ventilator. Still sleeping with his eyes slightly open. His room was quiet with the exception of the machines that were monitoring his vitals, feeding him and most importantly breathing for him. As I stood there it reminded me of when I had watched him sleep as a baby. He wasn’t a little boy any more though. I wasn’t able to rock it away or put a band aid on it and he wasn’t fine. The trauma had made me a victim. My anger, my pain had made me a monster but I kept that hidden because Ashlee and Taylor had needed me to be strong. Traumas cannot be unseen nor unfelt. If not dealt with appropriately, they lead to a failure to cope well in life. They lead to failing to hear and believe ourselves over other people such as those that appear to be good.
My ex had spent some of his time praying in that chapel on the floor just above the ICU. He also had spent time talking to a few of his doctor friends, getting their advice on how to help Ryan. He would then wait for Ryan’s doctors to tell them what his friends had said. He was constantly talking to the nurses and advising them. His behavior had irritated some of them. They however did not realize what it had meant to be a father whose son was alive because of a machine. Despite the desperation in him, he was using every ounce of courage and strength he had to ensure that Ryan would wake up and breathe on his own.
While it was not said, there was an air of judgement by those that were taking care of Ryan, by family, and others. After all it had not be an accident. It had been a choice. What choices, though, had been made for Ryan that had lead him to choose to run from his pain? Where was the judgement of every single person involved in that then or even now? He wasn’t just some spoilt kid having a tantrum. He was not someone who had a happy life and then decided to blow it up one day. Happy people don’t alter their state of being but unhappy people do. Not knowing or realizing that is an understanding of how we got here. It is however NOT an excuse to not bring every ounce of courage and strength that we have to fight for our loved ones even if it means looking in the mirror at ourselves. A father who was an addict taught me that.
All pain, regardless of its inception, requires comfort for those who are suffering from it. We do not get to pick and choose who or what we support. We do not get to decide what trauma is or how people handle it in life. That judgement is the friend of the snake. It leads to many, many apples being eaten. Some of which culminate into dreams that turn into nightmares or even death. Judgement is an excuse to not be accountable and never leads to seeing the full circle where solutions are found. Pain can and does lead people to alter their state of being. Addiction then turns them into monsters and creates more victims through family and friends or even outsiders. Just because it has been done does not make it right nor does it justify repeating it. Heavell is where the green truth and the real truth collide.
When a tree falls it is because of the whole forest. Do as I say not as I do makes me a liar. It makes you one too. Everyone enables. The poster child won’t wake today and that is bad. I am a mother of an addict and I deserve compassion. So does he. The snake is still whispering his lies…why do you listen? I am setting the monster free. You can run but you can’t hide. The mirror knows the real truth and SO DO I.
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