Somebody Had to Say Something

I love the subtle print of this tie. The trees. The little hearts! My friend had given me some peacock feathers and a nice crystal for my birthday one year so I liked adding the feathers as his angel wings.

I knew I was addicted to alcohol. The struggle in addiction is just that. Knowing the situation and watching the battle that seems out of your control. You are both in the ring fighting and watching powerless from the sidelines. It is a fight for your life and the worst part is you think you know your enemy so intimately that if you could just get them alone you are sure you could work it out. It does not matter what story you tell your self there is only one way out and that is by eliminating the substance from your life and your body for enough time that the part of you that was left trampled in the ring can heal, sit up and look around. See if the spectators have left so that you can stand up with some dignity and face what is next.

I have a complicated relationship with this man. It has evolved over many years but I see it ending. It will be a relationship that I let go not because of my addiction but because of my recovery. I am grateful that he had the courage, even if fueled by anger to say the hard things that needed to be said. Like me he has an attraction to the wounded. I can see that now. I was perfect for his own needs to take care of people. We share that desire to help even when it is hard.

The night the sheriff was sent to my door is the moment my recovery started. So that Alissa was not put into the child welfare system Sheriff McArtor allowed me to call a friend to come and pick her up. I made 3 calls. The first 2 were to girlfriends that I assumed would help if I needed them. Neither answered nor ever called back. The third call was picked up and my friend was there in minutes, learning how to administer Alissa’s insulin and assuring me he would take care of her until I was back home. He did that. He stepped in and took charge and care. He was my rock. And he did it again when I relapsed and was put back into the psych ward, involuntarily for round two. And when I could not maintain my sobriety he is the friend who drove me to rehab. He is excellent in a crisis. He is who you want on your team, by your side, rooting you on. I will always love him for who he was when I was not who I am.

One of the hard lessons of recovery is finding out that the people that wanted you sober may not like you when you get healthy. If you are going to succeed in recovery it is so much more than not using. It is looking at why you used in the first place. It is facing your truths, honoring your story and forgiving yourself for the decisions your addict brain made on your behalf. It is work, in the trenches of your mind and soul. And in growing you often outgrow those that are not in that space of reflection and change. I have become so healthy that I do not need to be saved and for someone that chases the rush of saving people I have become almost invisible. Or that is how it feels.

One thing in my recovery, I emote, sometimes gush because I am so full of the good emotions that eluded me for years. In my joy about this project I reached out. I wanted to share the piece that I made for him. I was going to suggest a potential collaboration on a joint art piece that would use his talents. I wanted to tell him again how grateful that I was for him being there when no one else was. In that rush my friend shut me down and off when he asked ‘Have you been drinking?’. That is a sharp blade to the heart of anyone in recovery that has fought for their sober days. To have him equate my joy with being drunk felt like a hard slap. I have not recovered from those words. They have never been followed by an apology. And so they sit between us. I will always be a drunk.