Darkness, Loss and Substance Use Disorder

The darkness clouds my mind, my heart, the very atmosphere I breathe, even on a beautiful sunny day.  The hole you've left, the black one, the void, it's always there.  I think that's the thing you can't comprehend.  Hearts are fragile, and when it comes to your children, and a breaking or rending, a tearing, such as this . . .well, how can that hole be filled with anything other than you?  For the part that is missing is you.

I keep trying to learn about Substance Use Disorder {SUD} and how it affects the brain, the emotions, the life of its victim - and as I struggle to live without you, it becomes more and more clear how delicate the balances are.  When I took the free Harvard opioid class, I learned some things - but one really stuck with me.  The limbic system.  

It's the part of the brain that controls emotions, pleasure, relaxation, and contentment.  Well, when those opioids hit that spot and the feeling washes over you - it takes away all the suffering.  Whether it is emotional or physical.  And here's the thing, the limbic system NEVER FORGETS what that felt like.  NEVER.  This is why even after years of sobriety, that need/want/craving can hit like a hurricane, and someone can succumb to the draw of it all over again. 

You see, as Zev Schuman Olivier points out, "opioids are a great immediate solution to the problem of suffering".  And let's face it, who wants to suffer?  No one.  But it's not a permanent solution.  It turns out to be just another problem. A problem that causes shame and that only adds to the suffering.  It also ushers in a whole lot of physical symptoms. What may have started as help for pain, causes inhumane withdrawal - painful, horrible, screaming symptoms.  What was once enough is never enough again. Your brain is hijacked - you literally spend 70% of your day trying to figure out how to get more, to stop the incessant need.

Pretty soon, you aren't feeding the feeling - you are avoiding the withdrawal.  

It's a "rest of your life" disease, not a "30 days and good " type of disease.  It's sort of like having diabetes.  It requires a dramatic lifestyle change, treatment, education, and in this case, more.  It's going to require dealing with the shame, the pain, and the emotional trauma.  You have to find a way to work through it, to help you understand it, and to give you the strength to live with it.  That's why the programs are so essential.  

You need to have other people in your life that understand what you are dealing with, people who have been there.  Support. With SUD, your brain has become convinced that without the drug, you won't make it. When you try to leave it behind, your entire system is going to revolt in an impossibly ugly way and you'll do anything to have that feeling of peace back.

I have an admission - I've told you all that I relented and went on a low dose of depression/anxiety medication - well, I had the thought this week, "maybe I should take an extra one today". I didn't.  I wouldn't.  But honestly, when that situational anxiety came on, it was easy to want to look for an out, to take the edge off of it.  Now I know someone is reading this thinking, that's too much info, but if I'm going to be anything, it's honest.  Honest in this journey of loss and addiction. Because people need to hear your story and to know that they aren't alone.

We need to be as quick to help as we are to judge.  To give grace instead of shame.  Everyone is struggling, and if you're not, you will be, it's just life.  It's mountains and valleys, highs and lows,  and everyone handles it differently.  Half of us are susceptible to addiction - and maybe I'm one of them.  Maybe the nausea I experienced with the Vicodin I was given after my wisdom teeth were extracted saved me.  Lord knows I'd rather suffer for days than throw up.  But maybe if circumstances had been different, I would be the one laying six feet underground instead of John.  Maybe I'm in that 50%.  I've seen enough in my life to be terrified of what alcohol and drugs can do to a life, and maybe it was fear that kept me on the path.

John and everyone like him, who suffer from this disease, need to be given a chance - 100 chances,  1000 chances, however many chances it takes to help them live. 

I hope that if this is you, you will seek that help.  Your disorder is just that - a disease.  You do not need to be ashamed.  You need to be helped.  We have come a long way in understanding this epidemic, but it isn't going away yet.  However, the pathways have been enlarged and you have more options now than you have had before.  Take that step, and if you fail, take another one.  Keep moving towards life - but don't let the backward steps stop you.  You can do it.  

For you families out there who have lost a child,  I see you.  Your child is not an "abuser" of drugs. l also learned that using the word abuse has been proven to change the way clinicians treat someone with SUD.  We don't call diabetics sugar abusers - abuse means willful conduct, and we all know that no one wanted this monkey on their back.  

Let's call it a disorder. Let's say "sober" instead of clean, because my son wasn't "dirty", nor was he an "abuser". He had a genetic disposition, he suffered from chronic pain and emotional trauma.   If your child died, it was from a poisoning. I'll still slip and use the wrong words, and I still say overdose, but that sounds sort of intentional, doesn't it?  How can you be intentional about "dosing" a substance when you have no way to know what's in it or how potent it is?

Friend, our loss will be never-ending.  And that's okay.  Your love for your child is never-ending.  No end point.  That is normal, but getting over it?  That's not normal.  Find a few people you can be honest with because at some point you will realize that the world is still spinning and your loss hasn't stopped the movement.  It's a lonely path and you've got to be proactive about finding what helps you with your black hole.  

Your loved one wouldn't want you to end up living a joyless life, or following in their footsteps.  So be careful with your heart.  If you need help with the pain, get it.  Join a group, find a fellow loss parent, talk to your doctor, go to counseling, read some books, talk to your pastor, but find your way, and hold on to hope.  🤍