Parallel Universes

Today is the 79th day since Sam's heroin overdose. Seventy-nine miraculous days linked together, one day at a time. I am so grateful that we have made it this far. I want to relax and enjoy this time but that is something I continue to struggle with. I feel tension in ways that seem to interfere with life sometimes: Forgetful, critical, tired, lazy, and overwhelmed (Sam finally received his birthday box in the mail this week, one month late). That is how I roll these days.

I have learned how a person can exist in parallel universes. I always wondered how someone could walk through a profoundly difficult time in their life and maintain their composure at the same time. By maintaining their composure, I mean keeping their normal routine and appearing to be okay to the outside world. Now I understand that people are able to do it because they have to. Even when we feel like we are dying inside, the house has to be cleaned and bills have to be paid. Thank goodness. Normalcy is a beautiful thing, it forces us not to shut down.

I still feel joy as well though, which seems a bit odd. If someone had told me ahead of this crisis that I would still feel joy and happiness I would not have believed it. I have so many terrific things in my life: four amazing kids (and a sweet daughter in law), a job I love, a beautiful dog, my health, life and a new home. I have learned the power of staying positive and grateful in this dark world of addiction. It keeps my head above water.

I recently received a private message from an old friend who is a cop in a large city. He told me he thought of Sam and our family recently as he successfully revived a heroin addict who OD'd in the bathroom of a burger joint. He said he met the young person later and they started crying and admitted this was not the first time they had been revived that way. Not by a long shot. My friend wanted me to know that there are people like him out there who really do care and are trying their best to save these people. He said he reads my posts because he lives this epidemic on the streets. It warmed my soul. Thank you from the bottom of my heart my friend, you saved someone's kid. It could have been my kid. I love you for that and so does that kid's mom.

As for Sam, we talk once or twice a week. I text him sometimes but I let him call me when he has time. I know his schedule is full and I want him to have all the time and space he needs. I think he knows that a part of my soul lives right there beside him each and every day. He is still working at the pizza place and attending outpatient treatment. He told me he feels like he is actually learning how to live sober now. He is embracing the support and structure in the community he lives in. It seems as though he might need to stay in a sober community whether he chooses to remain in St Paul or return to Denver. I hope he will continue to embrace that which works to feed his sobriety. While he does that, I will continue to strive to live a "normal" life.

I have realized that one of the reasons I write about Sam's heroin addiction is so that I don't have to talk about it all the time. I teach a lot of yoga, talk on the phone frequently for my other job, like to talk to people in general, and am exhausted. I don't have the energy to repeat the story over and over so I write. I know that people who are interested can read about it and those who aren't don't have to. I don't want Sam's addiction to be the only thing I ever talk about. It is the white elephant in the room. It is always there, front and center, but I don't want it to be the central focus of my or my other kids' lives. I also don't want to close myself off from others because I am too exhausted to talk about it anymore. I could see that happening. I tend to shut down and withdrawal during times of stress. This doesn't mean I mind if people ask how Sam is or how I am. I truly appreciate it. I never know what to say, but I do appreciate that people care.

It is not hard to love an addict but it is hard to maintain your sanity while doing so. As a friend recently pointed out, one of my "great" tag lines (which was so "great" simply because it was taken completely out of context when I said it) was "I can do black, I can do white, but I can't do gray". Loving an addict is like "doing" gray day in and day out for weeks, months, and years, on end. I was wrong of course. I guess I can do gray, I have no choice.

Today, Sam and I continue to walk forward in our entwined yet separate journey's through his heroin addiction. We cannot define each others experience. We each have to simply put one foot in front of the other, one day at a time. I know that each day he is sober is a gift to himself and also to me. I cherish each and every one of those days more than most would ever know.

Thank you for reading and for your continued support and prayers for Sam and our family. Where there is life, there is hope. Love you. #nomoreshame