Fragmented Fragments

Fragments are what I have right now. Fragmented is how I see myself moving through these days. The twitch in my right eye is new and not surprising – a side effect of the stress that my body and soul is experiencing. I am sleeping better, but that’s only thanks to the nasty flying insect that poked its stinger into my leg a little over a week ago and the Benadryl that I’ve been taking nightly since then.

I didn’t write anything here last weekend. I couldn’t and haven’t been able to come up with one topic or story. I think it’s a reflection of my state of mind. So, to heck with one topic or a story. This is the real deal. This is me, ‘handling’ the profound loss of my son – my absorption of my new reality of life without him. I’d love to speak with him about this. I can speak to him, I know, but I can’t speak with him.

I saw an intuitive reader on Sunday morning. I didn’t tell her until well into the appointment that Blake recently passed. When I did, she said that I’m doing remarkably well in my grief journey, and that I have done work to make this possible. I suppose the handful of ODs, the attempted suicide that I know of, and the consistent cycles of suicidal ideation might have contributed to my soul’s knowing or, at least, expecting this too soon ending. She did say that I have a large pain body though. She had me think of different people in my life to find the person with whom this pain is associated. And the winner is….my biological mother. Geesh! I wish I could just get over her. The reader suggested that I need to cut the string that attaches me to her. In response to her asking me if this made sense to me, I nodded. But how to do that??? I am 51 years old, and I haven’t figured this out yet.

Earlier in this blog, I mentioned that my mother abandoned me when I was 18 months old. In response to my text to her about Blake’s passing, she said nothing. I don’t know how that cannot cause pain. Furthermore, I don’t understand the callousness that a mother could have toward a child that she bore, when I could not express such apathy to a stranger. Perhaps if I had not reached out to her, I would not have opened the door for pain. The reader suggested that I talk to her, in my closet, and wish her love, peace, and truth. That’s a mighty overwhelming recommendation – not one I rushed home to fulfill, and not one I feel confident about fulfilling in the immediate future. I know that forgiveness is for the forgiver, but right now, I’m not ready. It wouldn’t be sincere.

I wonder though, and I wondered in the hospital, if this early detachment from my vessel into this world, didn’t contribute to my ability to detach from my son – a recognizable ripping that I could recall and replay under similar circumstances. When I walked into Blake’s room on the night of July 18^th, his nurse commented on my calm presence. While most people would typically describe me as calm, I think that in these circumstances, it might be more normal to be a bit frantic. I understood though, that if Blake had any sense of my presence, my energy would affect him. As I write this, I wonder if I felt some of the same sense of impending doom and if I’m now feeling some of the same grief and exhibiting some of the same symptoms that I did as a toddler. Perhaps my memory identifies the loss, and my subconscious, or now conscious, differentiates the blame. She was responsible, while he was not. She was not accountable, while he was. And in both circumstances, I suffered and suffer the loss.

On Friday evening, I met with a Substance Abuse Prevention Coordinator from Deschutes County. I’ve volunteered with the prevention team in previous years. Now the county is rolling out some new programs and there is need again for volunteers. We enjoyed a lively conversation – just what I needed after a day of bitter tiredness. We shared philosophy about the need for resilience building within communities and agencies. I told her about a program that I was part of as a pregnant single-mom-to-be. The program was called MOMS, an acronym for I don’t know what, but a brilliant program it was. I was assigned a mentor who met with me at a location of my convenience, which was usually in the waiting room of my doctor’s office. She guided me through a series of questions to determine my career goals. She then put a plan together and encouraged and supported my efforts to meet my goals. She even set up an interview with the principal of a school where I would work as a volunteer in the Kindergarten classroom. From there, she set me on a path to pursue my higher education. I don’t think programs like this exist anymore, and if they do, they are few and far between. This was an excellent example of resilience building though, minimizing the amount of time that I was dependent on public programs, while increasing my self-esteem and self-concept. Programs like this have the capacity to improve mental health and interrupt negative outcomes.

This conversation built on the statement on addiction and overdose that I prepared and delivered to Representative Walden (R-Oregon) on Wednesday of last week at a roundtable luncheon in La Pine. My statement was well received, with Walden engaging in continued conversation after I read my statement. After the meeting, I met with two of his staffers – one whose close friend suffered a fatal overdose during the summer of 2018 and one who heads Walden’s healthcare committee. I am hopeful that my voice and Blake’s story will continue to be used to affect positive change in policy.

One area that I didn’t cover in that statement that needs to be addressed is the stigmatization of those suffering from substance use disorder that are using MAT, or medication assisted therapy. Blake used either Suboxone or Methadone (mostly Suboxone) for about 6 years. These medications act as opioid blockers, in effect, curbing cravings and preventing a person using these medications from getting high or from overdosing on opiods, if opioids are used. Many people within the addiction field and communities, including Alcoholics Anonymous and Narcotics Anonymous, do not believe a person is ‘clean’ while using these medications. Since ‘clean’ is the ‘gold standard,’ persons using these medications are often made to feel ‘dirty,’ even though, with these medications, they are able to hold a job and otherwise function in society. For many, MAT can be a stepping stone to the destination of abstinence. Sometimes these medications should be used long term, and perhaps even for a lifetime. Can these medications be abused? Absolutely! But that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be used. It means that more support is needed.

Blake was ‘clean’ from Suboxone for 12 days, 12 DAYS!!! before he suffered a fatal overdose. I was so scared for him to detox from Suboxone. I did not believe he was ready. His mental health was not stable. He did not have the support that he needed. I spoke with his case manager at the detox facility about my concerns, and she understood and tried to make sure Blake’s needs were addressed. The only reason that Blake committed to detoxing from Suboxone was so that he could go back to his sober living house. It says exactly that in his intake. His sober living house, where he had been living for at least a year, required him to detox from Suboxone. As housing was a basic need, and they were providing it, he did what they told him. Yes, in case you’re wondering, I am mad!!!

I am learning more and more about sober living homes, and this is another area, or industry, that needs more regulation. From what I have learned, there is nothing to prevent people managing sober living homes, lay people, from making medical demands such as those that effectively killed my son.

Something else that I’ve thought about is the sentiment about death that I sometimes had when Blake was in active addiction or when he was expressing suicidal ideation. It’s not something that I regret – it’s just something that is and something that I feel I should share to perhaps help other moms who have had similar thoughts. It is excruciatingly exhausting to have a child with the disease of addiction. The sleepless nights, the anxiety over how a relapse was going to end, the deep desire to fix it and being powerless, the unconditional love that couldn’t change anything, the witnessing of trauma being experienced as a result of addiction, the frustration, the tears, the isolation, the this, the that, the everything…

So yeah, thoughts that if he wanted it all to end, maybe it should just be done already, occasionally crossed my mind, thoughts that perhaps I was being selfish because I was forcing him to be here against his will when he was obviously feeling tormented by addiction and mental illness. It’s not something I ever wished for; it’s something that sometimes felt imminent or maybe like the only answer, although hope always won over these thoughts. There was no way I could imagine this ending. Blake just HAD to figure this out. I knew he could do it. This is how the monster is what is called a ‘family disease.’ It torments everyone that is closest to the one directly afflicted.

And that’s why I have to fight back now. The monster still lingers, challenging my will, my vision, my quality of life, my joy,… I cannot let the monster take anything else from me. I will grieve the loss of my son for the remainder of my life, and there are and will be changes to the way that I show up in the world because of this. I accept this. I do not apologize for it. I grant myself space to do and be what I need. I also continue to challenge myself to rise up, just as I have done my entire life. I do not accept that this will ruin me. I will not lay down.

In 2012, when Blake was 21-years-old, I was on the Metro in Washington, DC. I don’t remember where I was going, but Blake called me. He told me he overdosed on heroin and that ‘friends’ had thrown him in a cold shower and called 9-1-1. The police and fire department arrived as he was regaining consciousness. Blake was cited for heroin possession, a felony, for the residue in the needle, and the first responders went on their way. I asked Blake if the overdose was intentional, and he told me that he knew that an overdose was possible, but he did it anyway – a vague answer that might have been interpreted as a possible suicide attempt or an insight into the hold that addiction had on him.

I had just a couple of weeks remaining in my internship in DC when I received this call from Blake. The Executive Director of the non-profit where I was interning asked me if I needed to leave the internship and return home. While I was upset and worried about Blake, I also realized that there was nothing I could do. Walking away from my internship, an opportunity that I earned, would have only hurt me. I’ve wondered about this decision many times, but I know that if I had returned, Blake would have felt terrible. In my blog about that internship experience, I wrote, “As you may be able to imagine, a family cannot go eight weeks without having some kind of drama, with or without their mother. Needless to say, I have spent some time on the telephone wearing my mediation, mentor, and psychologist hats.”

My point in bringing this up is to further illustrate how addiction creates confusion and potential chaos, how it can destroy plans, and otherwise interfere with day-to-day decision making. There is often no right or wrong answer. Some people advise one thing and other people advise another. What I learned is that I had to make decisions based on what I believed, and that no one else could make these decisions for me. I had to trust myself and stand by and live with the many decisions I made, large and small, in the presence of the monster.

That the monster once lived in plain view and took one of my most precious gifts will never be forgotten. I will continue to fight back – just as I have my entire life. I guess I have my mother to thank for my fighting spirit. Weird how I can draw so many parallels between these two seemingly unrelated parts of my life. Brene Brown said, “When we deny the story, it defines us. When we own the story, we can write a brave new ending.” Perhaps I’m taking ownership of both of these stories now. They’ve both been kept secret for far too long.