Survivors Part 2

The question today, how does the survivor move forward? How do we forgive the addict for what they have done? How do we ever trust them again? Will what they did prevent the survivor from ever trusting anyone again?

I can try to answer these questions from my own experiences of living with an addict for more than 15 years. I am afraid that my answers would not be edifying for you if you are too a survivor. I know where the answers must come from. My own answers will certainly re-open wounds that have just now began to heal. But for the reader, and for myself, I will quickly walk down this old road.

How does the survivor move forward? I didn't. My life was stagnated from the moment that her addiction developed into the centerpiece of our life. I did not know which way to turn. With great effort I found her the professional help she needed, but I did nothing to change the feelings I had. In those rare moments when I felt as if the future held hope I failed miserably when it came to acting upon the opportunity. Too may years of cautious living had hampered me in every layer of my life. I had given up.

When she made the choice to leave I thought another opportunity to start fresh had presented itself. My motivation was like a muscle that has been neglected, I had no strength. So i wallowed in self-pity. It was the words of my daughter that provided the strength to take at the least small steps forward.

How do we forgive the addict? I don't think I have. The consequences of her addiction continue to have adverse affects of my family. I raise my children alone. I face a mountain of financial obligations alone. I sleep alone. It is her alone that I cannot forgive.

How do we ever trust them again? The opportunity for trust has not presented itself yet, so I am not sure if I could give you an answer to this question. I suppose the closest to having to trust has been the few times that she has asked to see my youngest son. My gut told me absolutely no way! But I considered the years she had spent as a mother, albeit a mother with an addiction, she never once brought harm to the children. More importantly, I would not pass my own resentments down to my children.

Will the survivor ever trust anyone again? This is the hardest question to answer, because the truthful answer reveals more to me than I want to know. It has been over a year since she left her family but I have not learned to trust again. I don;t know if I ever will.

Survivors

I was sitting here catching up on the news of the week when I read the stories of devastation that took place on the east coast after power storms blew through the area. Six people died as a result of this storm and the tornadoes left a path of destruction from state to state. The reporters interviewed the survivors and told their stories of close calls or of total losses. The pictures showed rest of the world the destructive path of the storm or where the tornado seemingly left selected homes untouched.

An addict is like the tornado. She brings havoc and destruction to her family. Everywhere the addict goes the chance to destroy is there. Every person whose life the addict touches may be changed forever. Just like the tornado the addict doesn't realize their own power, and rarely sticks around to witness the results. On occassion there are even those selected few that the addict will step around to avoid bringing them harm, but it doesn't usually last. Eventually the storm-like powers that the addict wields will be out of her control, when that day comes it will be difficult to recognize the survivors.

But we are survivors. We may carry the scars for many years, but we survive. The addict will destroy relationships, homes, bank accounts and even their family in order to satisfy their addiction. Some losses may one day be rebuilt, others are gone forever.

Dear addict, how do you give back the years of youth you robbed from your children? They were forced to grow up so fast because only someone with advanced years could lie to cover up your behavior. Do you remember they stood by your side even when the shame was overwhelming, or did you even realize they were there? How do you mend a relationship that was filled with deceit? Do you really believe that you could ever be trusted again? You battle your addiction with the help of other addicts, where does the survivor turn for healing? You relapse, believing that you can once again stop, you've quit so many times before.

I am a survivor. My strength comes from God, your determination comes from a "higher power". My hope comes from Christ, where does yours come from? A weekly meeting? A big blue book?

How I wish the addict could just get a small glimpse of the havoc the cause before it happens. Maybe that would be enough to make them stop.

Part 1 of a 3 part series.

The Wooden Box

"The Wooden Box" is my first short story and is available on Amazon-Kindle. Writing this story about faith was truly a joy for me. Researching and character development were new tools that were required very little when writing "Going Numb" and "Addicted to Faith".
The story is about the Goode Family and generations of men whose faith was a key element in their relationship with Christ. As I wrote the story I felt as if these fictional characters were close friends, friends which I would want to sit down with over a cup of coffee and listen to their stories. So I found ending the story difficult, as if saying good-bye to old friends. Before making it available on Amazon-Kindle I went back and edited certain sections to allow a reunion with the Goode Family if I am so compelled in the future.
I hope you enjoy the story and meeting the Goode's as much as I did writing about them.
If you do not have a E-reader do not worry. You can download a reader on your PC or smart-phone absolutely free at Amazon's site.


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 http://www.amazon.com/The-Wooden-Box-ebook/dp/B0060FRRAU/ref=sr_1_11?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1319810785&sr=1-11

It's not fair.

So much can be revealed in a  late night conversation with a 15 year old daughter. A daughter who suddenly feels the weight of the world on her shoulders.

I am blessed in that my daughter will sit with me in our living room and just talk. Sometimes we talk about current events, the ones you will find in the entertainment news, not so much the ones on the evening news. Other times we talk about family and friends, about something funny, about something sad. We talk about the future and sometimes we talk about the past. On occasion we might even talk about God.

Tonight we talked about life.

My daughter has some very close friends that are going through difficult times and she hurts for them. Through the tears she shared with me her concerns for her friends. She was vague in the details and I didn't probe. My "Dad Senses" have been honed well enough to know when to just listen and how to determine when probing questions are critical...tonight they were not needed.

The care and love she has for her friends has been a characteristic of hers since she was four years old. Her burning desire to help others has been evidenced just as long. Tonight she felt helpless. Some problems, many problems are too big for a fifteen year old. She wanted to fix the problem. I told her that sometimes the fix belongs to someone else, it is out of our hands. But when we can't fix, we support. We provide shoulders to cry on, ears to listen. We become momentary respites for those we want to help. And although their problems are still there, for just a moment you take their mind off of it, for just a moment you let them catch their breath...by just being there.

I steered our conversation towards a time when she had helped other friends that had faced problems. I remembered a young boy that had become addicted to drugs at a very young age. The problem had elevated to a point with legal consequence and he was arrested. Sara (my daughter, in case you haven't met her) stayed by his side. She was hard on him about his habit, she showed concern for his future. She checked on him, she cried with him. She helped him. She was his friend.

Our conversation stayed on the subject of addictions. We talked about her Mom. We talked about my father and my baby sister. We talked about her friends and others that she has known in school that have battled or are battling addictions. We talked about choices made that lead to a life controlled by substance abuse. I told her that addicts, like her Mom, say and do things because of a drug. The addict makes decisions, bad decisions, because of a drug. I told her that inside of the addict is a good person trying to get out, we just can't see them.

Her tears began to flow again. She said, "I am only 15 years old and I  already know too many people who are addicted to some drug. I already know too much about this subject. It's not fair."

All I could do was sit silently. This problem was too big for me, It would have been so easy for me to say that "life's not always fair.", to offer fatherly wisdom with words like hope, faith and God. But I didn't. Instead I just gave her a hug and told her I love her; because she is right, "It's not fair!"

At fifteen she should be worried about what to wear to school and boys. She should be thinking about her future and boys. She should be making plans for slumber parties not plans on how to keep a friend from becoming homeless. She should be sharing her life with her mother, not waking up from bad dreams with anger towards her Mom being reignited.

I told her we would help her friends in every way we can, and then I told her to be sure to pray for them . She will.

I prayed tonight and I told God....it's not fair.

Where have I been?

It has been a while since I have written anything. I thought I would take this opportunity to update you. Then after doing so make a comment on an incredible bible study I attended this morning. You will soon see that the two really go hand in hand.

Writer's block comes in many ways. Too often it is just an excuse for laziness. Other times it is a poor excuse to delay facing the truth that the creative juices have dried up. It may also reveal that writing was just a temporary relief valve during the trials we face in this thing called life. Whatever the reason, sometimes we just give up. (Am I still talking about writer's block?)

I have attempted on numerous occasions since my wife walked out of our lives to write something. But each time I did, the words, the thoughts would be dark and depressing. I have enjoyed writing for more years than I care to remember, and if the words on the page suddenly were able to depress me, I knew they were not worth sharing with you.

More than a year has passed since she decided that her life as a wife and mother was no longer appealing. The multitude of feelings I had, have since faded to little more than shadows. I discovered, by observing my children, that life marches on. Rainy days still come, (although few and far between in south Texas) bills still arrive with regularity in the mail box. Knees are stilled skinned and Homecoming mums are still needed. The number of wrinkles that appear on my face didn't increase in number or frequency and my hair still falls out at an acceptable pace. Really the only thing that changed...I can't hear her breathing in the middle of the night.

So I dusted off some old ideas and started writing again. "The Wooden Box" is my first attempt at fiction in more than thirty years. I have decided to avoid the cumbersome process of publishing on paper and will release "The Wooden Box" in e-format through Amazon's Kindle Direct Publishing. I have enjoyed writing again and hope to have this short story finished before Thanksgiving.

Moving on. This morning I attended a bible study that was focused on Paul's first letter to the Corinthians, specifically 1st Corinthians, chapter 7. If you are not familiar with this passage it is Paul's answer to questions the Corinthians had posed about marriage. Now the Apostle Paul is not one to sugar coat his words and this chapter is evidence of just that. As I read his words this week there were many that hit home; "A wife must not separate from her husband. But if she does, she must remain unmarried or else be reconciled to her husband. And a husband must not divorce his wife.". "Are you married? Do not seek a divorce."

I admire the writings of Paul. I have great respect for his insights and his understanding of God's plan. His radical conversion from Saul to Paul gives hope for all. But, I don't think Paul should be giving marital advice! He probably was not married and therefore has never experienced the darker side of a woman. He never felt the pain of separation. He never anguished over the whereabouts of a missing spouse. He never knew what it was like to experience the relief of knowing a bad relationship had finally ended.

I am baring to you my feeling prior to this mornings class.

Through the grace of God I was not the teacher this morning, I was a student that was humbled by a teacher that had a clearer understanding of Paul's instructions than I. She shared with the class that Paul's instructions came from a place of pure love. Paul feared for the lives of Jews and those that followed the new Way. His guidance was to warn and prepare. Warnings that life here is temporary, the things we hold dearly to, including relationships will all one day end. Preparation to let go.

When Christ returns for His church we may be standing there holding the hand of someone that does not believe. We will have to let go for Christ wont tarry. It will hurt to do so, it will hurt to say good-bye.

If the one who holds your hand today doesn't know Christ, introduce her or him to Jesus.

Avoid the hurt.

Thanks teacher for a great lesson.