I have done tremendous work to recover from my family’s dysfunctional dynamics, but in doing so, I learned firsthand what creates esteem for kids as they grow up. My childhood lacked some of those critical elements, including feeling safe and secure, and also loved and cherished. Thankfully, this experience enabled me to do better in this area with my own children. I have never beaten a child (just as I promised my five-year-old self I never would), and my anger is rare. If I do have a moment of bad behavior, I promptly take responsibility for it and apologize. I intentionally focus on not repeating it so my apologies aren’t empty. I use those moments as opportunities for growth. Loving my children is not difficult, and I’ve done my best to demonstrate it and express my love for them often. Love helps people flourish at any age, but is especially important as we’re growing and becoming.
Drugs
By the time I met my first love in high school, he was already a regular drug and alcohol user. In fairly short order, his world became mine and like Anna, I shifted my focus from my core set of friends to his, although I never entirely abandoned my gal pals.
Inevitably, I began smoking pot and drinking with regularity—and later, added cocaine. I say inevitably because I had nowhere else to go but down. Anyone going toe-to-toe with drugs (and this includes alcohol, which is a drug) is subject to falling prey to addiction. I’m not saying you will, but you could. Many believe addiction is an emotional, physical and spiritual disease. Because I was pretty damaged between the issues at home and the rape, I could be the poster child for substance abuse from just the emotional perspective. Drugs and alcohol numbed my feelings, albeit unconsciously, but my body responded to it favorably. Moreover, a history of alcoholism is prevalent on my father’s side of the family dating back for generations. This further fosters my belief that addiction is partly hereditary, and only increased my odds of having the genetic or physical disposition. The final nail in the coffin was that in my world, my friends were king. I could not resist their pressures, and I was the last man standing (every friend I had used drugs except me). Of course, I’d join them. I also had no spiritual connection to speak of, making me bankrupt in all three categories that make up an addict.
At this stage of the game, I still believed, ironically, that I was a girl with real potential. I felt smart, confident and strong. And yeah, a little invincible too.
In terms of addiction to cigarettes, drugs and booze, here’s what happened to me: it took years. One of the most cunning and insidious aspects of the disease is just how long it takes. And during those patient years, it only made me feel I had outsmarted all those substances and retained full control. I was having the time of my life. My friends and I were close, had crazy fun times and were on top of the world. Sure, we had plenty of drama and signs all wasn’t perfect in paradise, but we ignored them and got more cigarettes, drugs and booze. By the time I grasped my predicament, it was too late and I, a full-fledged addict.
The cocaine, in particular, took many of us to the depths of hell—to places like jail, attempted suicide and hospitals, not to mention alienation from our families and friends, and most importantly, ourselves. I distinctly remember sitting in a drug dealer’s apartment in the years just after high school, looking around at the faces of everyone strung out on coke (this was after the freebasing craze became the crack phase, one of the worst things I’ve ever witnessed) and I wondered what the hell I was doing there. It would have been some ridiculous time such as five in the morning, perhaps on day two of a “roll” in which we had never slept. I suddenly realized that girl with potential had somehow lost her way. It was infinitely depressing.
I came away from my experience understanding no drug (including alcohol) is “recreational.” Every time you put a mood-altering substance into your body, all bets are off. There are no sure outcomes.
As for my exit from this world, it took an intervention by my best friend to begin the process of quitting cocaine. And I did so, but for the first year, I drank myself into oblivion instead, dabbling in recovery as I tried to sort it all out.
I was still the girl with potential. I had somehow—but barely—made it through college intact. Yet so much damage was inflicted in my first twenty-five years, beginning with my dysfunctional home life and moving on to the rape, drugs and relationship problems, that it all tallied up to damaging and life altering. Some part of me liked the obliteration of feelings, although they were never totally inescapable.
As I neared the bottom of the barrel (again), I met the man I would eventually marry. I don’t know if I somehow understood this, but it was a catalyst to crawling into twelve-step meetings one final time. I admitted my powerlessness over drugs and alcohol, and started to climb out of the pain. Recovery became my number one priority and led me to places I had only dreamed about, or in some cases, never knew existed. Although not easy, it was pretty simple—and do-able one day at a time.
Today
Thirty-plus years later, I’m happy to report I have remained clean, sober and nicotine-free. I have enjoyed a loving marriage and family, been a good mom, become enmeshed in my writing
