Showing posts with label support system. Show all posts
Showing posts with label support system. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 14, 2017

Q + A

Melanie, one of our Storytellers and an open-hearted blogger ( The Addict in My Basement) was approached by a youth group to answer a list of questions about what life is like being the mother of an addict.  
Melanie's honesty cuts through the fog.  She is real. She is raw.  She is a warrior in a fight against an epidemic that touches so many lives.  

When did you find out your daughter was an addict? And what was your reaction?

I found out my daughter was an addict about 6 years ago. Maybe 5 actually. She asked me to meet with her and a therapist she was seeing. I thought she was going to tell me she was pregnant. I had totally prepared myself for that.  I was not prepared to hear that she was a heroin addict. I’m not sure I even processed she was an IV user for some time. And, I don’t think I really reacted, per se. I think I went into problem solving mode. I remember saying ok what do we do now? What is our next step? It took me months before the reality of it hit me.

Now, after so many years, do still have fear of getting the call?

Oh god, yes. More so now. I am more aware of how likely it is to happen than I was back then.  The one thing you can always rely on is that addicts eventually die, if they don’t get clean. So far, that hasn’t happen to my daughter. She uses and uses and uses to the point where she should be dead but isn’t.  I was definitely in the “it won’t happen to me” camp in the beginning. Now, I am considering myself extremely blessed that it hasn’t happened.
How do you live with that fear?
That is a really good question. And the answer is sort of complicated. A parent that has not been dealing with recovery would be terrified to the point of paralysis, as I was at first. But as time goes by things happen and they change the perspective. I know that there are not many parents that will admit it, but there were times when my daughter was not even human anymore, and I would think to myself that she would be better off dead than like this. Those thoughts are normal. Many parents in support groups will tell you that it is normal. It doesn’t mean we hate our children or we want them to die. It simply means that even parents have limits. At this point, if I were to get a call that JoDee had died I would be devastated. I would grieve for the rest of my life. A piece of my soul would be gone. However, I wouldn’t be surprised.  There wouldn’t be shock, just sadness. Parents that lose children to a car accident or to addiction but had no idea they were addicts will be shocked.  There is very little that shocks me now.
Knowing your child is potentially going to die, and not being shocked by it, or thinking they would be better off not on this earth must be difficult as a parent. Do you suffer from guilt?
I suffer. Every day. Guilt is only a piece of that.  Every time my boys, and my husband and my step-daughters are all eating dinner, and laughing, or doing things around the house, or planning something and JoDee isn’t participating either because of active use or being in treatment, it is somber. For me. There isn’t a time that will go by that I won’t think that I wish she was there. I wish she could be there with us, but it has taken me a long time to be able to understand boundaries and why for some people they are more important than others.
What do you mean by that?
I mean that addicts are an entirely different breed of humans. They are a category and a level so completely different from anything I have ever known, it requires its own set of rules.
Are you being evasive on purpose?
No, Sorry. I’m not. It’s hard to explain in a way that non-addict parents would understand. On a normal day, my older son, who is in college, needs my guidance, and help. He might need me to help him with homework, or remind him to get his oil changed in the car, make his bed, typical things a parent would do or say to their semi-adult children.  Adult parenting an addict is the absolute opposite of all other parenting.  I can’t help her. With anything.  Addicts are manipulative and demanding. They believe we (as non-addicts) owe them something.  That doesn’t happen because they are bad people, it happens because that is what becomes of addicts. So, to give her the most help is to not give her money, or a place to live, or enable her in any possible way. That goes against everything I have learned in my 23 years as her mother.  It’s painful.
How do you do that? I imagine that it is hard to do.
Um. I don’t know. Sometimes I don’t do it.  Sometimes my gut is telling me that I should let her suffer in the park at night alone but then I find myself getting in my car and driving to where ever she is saying I won’t ever do it again. I become as much of as an addict to her disease as she does, except I don’t have the moments of complete euphoria or whatever they feel. And I can still live a somewhat normal life, something the addicts can’t do. It’s a weird dynamic.  In the later years I have become able to more frequently say no but it’s hard. And I won’t say I am better at it because no one is good at this. Ever. No one would ever want to be.
What do you tell people?
About her addiction? Or about my family?
Both. When speaking about your family to friends how much do you share? And how much do you share with new acquaintances?
Well, at first I did not tell anyone anything. And I didn’t want too. Not out of embarrassment because it never really occurred to me to be embarrassed but out of protection. I thought I would be able to preserve JoDee’s dignity and reputation and future if I kept it a secret but the truth is that addiction feeds of the lies we tell, or the truths we hold in. I realized that telling the people who love her the most was important so that they could help her when she was clean and support me when she wasn’t. The support of my friends, both the friends I knew pre-addiction and the friends I have made since, have saved my life.  Those who are in the know, so to speak, I am honest with. If they ask, I will tell them. For those that are new friends or someone that won’t be in my life forever, I tell only what I feel I want too. I already put our life on blast with the blog so it’s really not that often someone doesn’t know.
How does your family feel about your life being on blast, as you put it?
Oh. When I was approached about the blog, I spoke with everyone first. I did not just start putting our shit out there for all too see without discussing it with them first. JoDee was supportive because she thought it would help other addicts or their families, and she was right. It has.  My children and I were all on the same page. We agreed to it, and knew what we were getting it too so I use our names. At the time I started the blog I wasn’t married to AC so I didn’t want to use his kids’ real names out of respect for him and their mother. Now, it just sort of stuck.  I actually call AC, AC most of the time.  If I am going to post something that involves someone outside our family, like my son’s girlfriend, Cinderella, I ask first. I never post without consent. Most of my family reads it.  However, there have been some mixed feelings from those outside our circle.  I have had people question my motives, and feel that it could be harmful to JoDee.  Some feel it gives her a platform to misbehave because people read about her misdoings. Some feel that it makes it harder for her to recover because all the things she does in active addiction are aired out like dirty laundry, something many addicts have expressed to me that they would not have had that done to them.  I know that the blog seems all exposing but believe it or not, I do hold back. I do not put out every single thing she has done, sometimes I just allude to something. Or I have skipped things entirely because I know she wouldn’t want them shared. It’s a balance.
Of all the things that have happened, what would you say was the worst?
Definitely the first time she went missing from a rehab out of state.  She went out to a program in Arizona and I was so dumb back then I really thought this was going to be the answer to our prayers. 30 days into the program she ran away. My 18 year old daughter was missing in a state so far from home it could have been on Mars. I had no way to reach her by phone, and no way to tell her it was ok to come home or call me. That was physically paralyzing. Literally. The moment I heard she was missing I locked myself in my bathroom and screamed and cried on the floor. I know that sounds like a reaction most parents would have but that isn’t like me. I’m not a big crier. I was afraid to leave the house, or talk on the phone, or move in case she was to call. It was absolutely awful.  In the end she came home and the cycle continued, so it probably seems strange for that to be the worst when she has nearly died more than once but there was nothing to compare to that. It was …. Shocking.  It changed me. It changed who I am and how I respond to things, and how I see things.
Wow. That must have been intense.  Did that ever happen again?
Oh yes. Two more times. Which really seems ridiculous even to me. I knew she might run when we sent her to Florida. I knew it was a possibility because JoDee is a runner but she really wanted to go to that program so I relented. She was gone in a week. And several months later she wanted to go to a program in California. I was dead set against it but she wanted to go and there was a gentleman helping her from an addiction recovery program who persuaded me to give it a try. She ran after a couple of weeks and stayed out there for several more weeks because I wouldn’t buy her a plane ticket home, though I did eventually.  Once when we were talking about this exact thing she said that being on a run in California was one of the worst for her. By then, I was a pro at her being gone.
What would you say to a parent that just discovered their child was an addict?
I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what is about to happen, what you have already been through, and what could happen. And find a network. Find other parents like you. Meeting mothers that were going through the same thing as me was paramount to me living this long. Even if you only talk to them on line or by phone, it’s a huge relief. To be able to tell someone else how much you hate addiction and possibly your kid that day and know the person on the other end isn’t judging is priceless.  There are often times that two parents aren’t feeling the same or reacting the same. It doesn’t make the other person wrong or bad, just not the person that is going to relate to you the most. Find someone who is like-minded.  And don’t give up. As long as your child is breathing, there is hope for recovery.  And my final piece of advice is to follow your own instincts. When faced with difficult situations and tough choices do what makes YOU feel good or better. Do whatever you think is best without deciding if is best for the addict. Odds are good if the addict is happy with your school of thought, it’s not the right one. If an addict is pissed off at you, you are probably saving their life.
Last question:  What do you want people to know about addicts?
They are people. Before my daughter was stealing your wallet from the purse left in the shopping cart, or stumbling on the street drooling on herself, she was am honor student, a gymnast with a wall of awards, a sister and a daughter. She was someone, just like you and me, and she is still someone. She may be a shell of the person she used to be, but she is in there. She is still a person.  We can hate the things addicts do to us and themselves but we can’t hate the addict. There is no world where hate fixes anything. Being strong, and diligent, and maintaining boundaries are not the same as hate. In fact, it’s the opposite. It is showing them that you care enough to love them.  Stupid junkie, losers, leeches, thieves, bums, dirty, gross, untrustworthy, and on and on are things that they may become during active addiction but it isn’t who they are at their core and the real person can come back. It’s hard. It is not just putting down a needle and walking away. It’s a way of life. It’s an alteration of the brain which lacks the ability to be the person we used to know. But they are in there. We can be mad and angry and I know society as a whole is angry but when people throw hate around and refuse to see addiction as a disease we all suffer. I suffer as a parent, she suffers as the addict, the mental health community is suffering with lack of funds, and programs. It is going to take all of us to fight this disease and stop the epidemic.  In N/A they say if you can’t help an addict don’t hurt one, and the truth is that is great advice.



If you or someone you love suffers from addiction there are programs, people and communities out there to help. https://findtreatment.samhsa.gov/locator/link-focSelfGP






Melanie Brayden-Cortes


Melanie lives in Danvers, MA with her life partner, her three kids, 

his two kids, two cats Diego and Blu and their dog Bud. 
Her oldest child, her daughter, is a heroin addict. 

Melanie began a blog, The Addict in My Basement
to chronicle her struggles as the mother of an addict. 



Thursday, December 18, 2014

Moment of Impact, Part II

My case worker at MGH wanted to send me to Spaulding Rehab to continue my physical & occupational therapy. However, my mother fought on my behalf for me to go to one outside of Boston, closer to home and easier for me to have frequent visitors.  
They decided to send me to HealthSouth (currently New England Rehab) on the Woburn/Winchester line.  Having previously worked at the 99 Restaurant nearby, I knew exactly where I was headed.  The EMTs that were in charge of transferring me to the rehab facility were a great pair of people.  They made me as comfortable as possible, which was difficult considering all I could move without serious issue was my right arm and my head.  
We got to talking on the ride and I had mentioned, in passing, that I had worked at the 99 Restaurant down the road from the rehab facility for a few years and had just recently been transferred to another location due to a promotion.  
I didn’t think anything of it when the ambulance started to slow down.  One of the EMTs had gotten out and a few minutes passed by.  I had never been in this situation before, so I assumed that she was just prepping to get me into the rehab facility.  
When she opened the doors in the back of the ambulance, I could barely lift my head. Remembering what I saw is making my eyes water as I type this.  We were in the parking lot of the Four Corners 99 Restaurant, my old work.  There was a line of people waiting to see me. Line cooks, servers, bartenders, prep cooks, dishwashers, managers & even some regular guests that I knew, had one by one been allowed into the ambulance with me. Some laughed with me, some cried with me, some did both at the same time.  They all expressed their well wishes for a speedy recovery, gratefulness that I had made it thru & support on anything that I would need going forward.  I used to joke with my fellow restaurant workers that I’ve been involved in some long ticket times in a restaurant, but that one took the cake.
I wish I remembered the names of those EMTs, I would love to be able to thank them to this day for that.  


Don't miss out on Moment of Impact, Part I




Paul Dube

Host of The Sports Den & Chef at Smokey Bones.

Defiant by will.  A true life miracle by every other standard.