An Open Letter To My Addict

Addiction is so commonplace in our country we all have at least one loved one affected. Loving an addict is a tough place to be. Always walking the fine line between helping and enabling, always hovering in the gray area between hope and reality, always wavering between speaking our mind and worry that the last conversation we’ll have with our addict will be filled with anger.

I’ve never been great at holding my tongue (shocker, I know). Many times, the opportunity to speak meaningful words is lost because we don’t know how. Or our addict refuses to hear. Or we know anything said will be twisted and refuted the moment it leaves our lips, forgotten amid the excuses and denials.

So, what do we do? I’ve found the written word (especially on the internet) is always available. Available to reread when we are calmer, when there’s a lucid moment for the recipient to reflect. I’ve written an open letter to our addicts. I say our addicts because they belong to us. They are our brothers, our sisters, our nieces, our nephews, our cousins, our friends and our parents. They aren’t strangers for whom we can pretend not to care. They aren’t abstract beings unattached to us.

To My Addict,

First of all, I love you. Loving you is what makes your addiction so painful to witness. One of your favorite go-to accusations is that because I won’t give you money, or a place to stay or one more chance, it means I don’t love you. Nothing could be further from the truth. It is because I love you, I cannot help you kill yourself. I cannot aide and abet your demise.

Often, you are angry when I won’t believe your claims that this time will be different. Maybe when you say it, you believe that this will be the time you’re able to change your life. And maybe it will be. But, for me, it sounds like the thousand other ‘this time will be different’’s I’ve heard. You know the saying “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me”? Well, you’ve fooled me hundreds of times. Hundreds. Each time I hoped, and I prayed, each time I put my faith in you, each time I waited – cautiously optimistic and each time you crushed me. Each time you shredded my  trust, rewarded my confidence with lies and betrayals. So, please understand why your words are meaningless. I still hope and pray you’ll find your way, but I need to see action – long term, sustained action. Not a one and done token gesture.

Your actions will always speak louder than your words. You want me to forget your past with each new start, you want me to wipe the slate clean. Real life doesn’t work that way. I agree constantly reminding you of past indiscretions is counteractive to your recovery, but that doesn’t mean I don’t remember them. Wanting a fresh start doesn’t erase the past. The fact that you blame your addiction instead of taking responsibility for your choices is one of those deafening actions I speak of. Calling addiction a disease does not absolve you from the consequences of your actions. Diabetics must manage their disease or face complications like amputations, heart disease or kidney failure. Those with high blood pressure must take medications and eat sensibly to avoid the same complications. Never in the history of medicine has someone been able to reverse the effects of not managing their disease by blaming the disease itself. A diabetic must choose to avoid certain foods. Someone with high blood pressure can’t eat a pound of bacon everyday and expect to be healthy. They must live with those consequences and so do you. You are not a victim. Your mother is a victim. Your child is a victim. Your family and friends are victims. You are not. You are an accomplice to this disease.

Change doesn’t happen instantly, and trust isn’t rebuilt overnight. Maybe  you were clean for a month last time, maybe a year. However long it was, I will sit on pins and needles waiting for you to relapse until that much time multiplied by ten has passed. Because all I’ve learned from you is just when I let my guard down, you’ll move in the for next scam.

Until you heal yourself from within and conquer your demons, recovery will never last. You crave the high only an external source can provide. With each new start, that high comes from the praise and confidence of your family and friends when you’re doing well. But soon that praise will taper off when your newfound stability is no longer a novelty to us. Soon you will have to work for that high. Soon you will have to reconcile within yourself that you are a person who will steal from your own mother to chase that high. Soon you will face the anticipated disappointment in the eyes of your loved one when you make a promise. Soon those demons will rear their heads. Then what will you do? Every experience I have with you tells me you will soon chase the easy high. You’ll have just one beer. Then next time, just a few beers. Then maybe you’ll have a tough day. Then you’ll call your dealer.

 If you want to change the world’s perception of you, you must first change your perception of yourself. Do the hard work. Take the hits your past self earned. Feel the hurt you caused. Do these things over and over. Each day. Again and again. I can hear you already arguing that you’ve done all these things and it didn’t work. I can hear you already justifying your relapses. I can hear the fake mea culpa, taking responsibility but not really meaning it. I can hear it all because I’ve heard it all before.

So, before you accuse me of not believing in you, or triggering your relapse, or wanting you dead because I refuse to play along with your version of reality, ask yourself how many times have you lied? Or stolen? Or broken a promise? Put yourself in my shoes. Walk around in them and when your done, reread the first paragraph in this letter.

Forever in your corner, hoping and praying…

                                                                Love, Me