No One Brings You Casseroles When Your Child is an Addict

Jesus taught: “Judge not, that ye be not judged.”
~ Matthew 7:1

by Katie

I remember when I was 15 years old and my Grandfather passed away of cancer. Friends and family brought over casseroles, pies, and lasagnas. Warm cookies left on the porch and neighborly visits of talks and coffee. My mom needed that support. She was able to work through some of her grief without having to worry about making dinners and going grocery shopping. It was my first experience with a community coming together to help another one, who was going through a very hard time. Years later, my own friends and I would do very similar things for those struggling with something….a friend who was diagnosed with breast cancer was dropped off food on the doorstep, another friend who had lost her father had food delivered to the funeral home. “If there is anything I can ever do to help….” Were words spoken and truly meant. When someone experiences grief and trauma, we come together to bring comfort food. It’s a beautiful thing.

But not when your child is an addict.

Opioid addiction is considered a chronic, relapsing brain disease characterized by compulsive drug-seeking behavior and drug use despite harmful consequences.
Opioid addiction is federally described as a progressive, treatable brain disease.

What is the common theme here? BRAIN DISEASE. But yet, as a society, there is such an enormous stigma attached to addiction, that we don’t treat it as such. People tend to shy away from something that is so taboo. It’s the WHISPERED disease. If we do talk about it, its behind closed doors.

It’s one of the main reasons why families who are going through it, stay quiet.

I remember when my daughter Brittany went to treatment in California. She left right before Labor Day weekend, when our family goes up to our cottage for the annual Turtle Races. It’s a big event and the entire extended family attends. How could I explain her absence? I was scared of them knowing. Scared of the possible judgement, the uncomfortable look in their eyes, answering questions that I didn’t have answers to. I also wanted to protect her. What if she came out OK? I was paralyzed in fear of her being scarred.

John and I felt very alone. It’s an isolating feeling, when you are going through something of such enormity. I could barely function. Getting out of bed was a chore in itself, let alone making dinners, grocery shopping, trying to live NORMALLY. Hours upon hours were spent on the phone with insurance. Sleepless nights not knowing where Brittany was, my heart gripped with fear every time the phone rang, or a siren was heard.

At the age of 19, Brittany went into her first treatment center. I couldn’t breathe. I was beyond distraught. THIS CANT BE HAPPENING!!! I could barely drive the 1 ½ hours home. I had to pull over a few times, my vision blurred with tears. When I came home, I collapsed into bed. Overcome with emotion, exhausted from the previous days of convincing her to go.

No casseroles were brought.

At the age of 20, she was admitted into a psychiatric facility and diagnosed with bipolar. I spent days at the hospital, eating Cheez Its out of a vending machine, while my family at home lived on peanut butter and jelly.

No tin foil pans of lasagna were on the porch.

For 7 years, as a family, we fought to save Brittany. Putting out fire after fire, dealing with one crisis after another. Flying all over the country to find the best facilities, the best doctors, researching and arming ourselves with education.

Certain types of pain can feel invisible or hidden by families— mental health and alcoholism, miscarriage and infertility, job loss, a parent’s slow decline. The need for communication, support and comfort of a homemade meal isn’t as apparent, or may not even be known.

I didn’t write this as a criticism of my loved ones -they didn’t know! I didn’t communicate how our family was crumbling. Because I was SCARED. I am BEYOND blessed to have an incredible support system, once I FINALLY talked about it.

Different kinds of crisis and grieving are more difficult for those who love us to understand and to comfort. It can be uncomfortable and we tend to shy away from topics, events, or things that are out of our comfort zone.

If you know someone who is struggling, a few warm cookies on the porch may just be what they need to feel accepted, loved and understood. Offers of coffee, cake and a chat could be what saves their sanity. We all just want to be loved and accepted, no matter what we are going through.

Please visit Katie & Brittany ~ “A Mother’s Journey with her Daughter’s Addiction”

First published on http://www.amothersaddictionjourney.com/

~ republished with permission. 🙂

Neither Do I Condemn Thee
Oil painted on canvas by Ryan Lyle Saunders

One of the Savior’s most wonderful works is recorded in John, Chapter 8.

The Master Teacher, in few words, teaches those present and all of us about the relationship of forgiving others and receiving forgiveness of sins. This painting depicts the scene shortly after Christ’s words had condemned the accusers who were about to stone a woman taken in adultery. Her robe is red, symbolic of her sins. Her accusers are struck with guilt, but they react in different ways. One lets go of his sins (the rock), another bitterly clings to it, while others debate what they have been taught.

At times each one of us is like someone in the painting.

#Wow
#CelebrateChrist
#StoryADayForChristmas