Why I Share….Now

On Monday, I had the opportunity and honor to be on a Zoom call with 2 other moms and representatives from an Oregon recovery advocacy group regarding the start up of a parent led advocacy/support group as an arm of that organization. At one point, it became evident that the reason for telling our stories was misunderstood. The misunderstanding caught me off guard for a second until I remembered that perspective is everything.

Specifically, the words ‘exploiting’ and ‘sympathy’ were used. The organization was concerned that they did not want to exploit us for our stories, and another mom, who was not present, was concerned that she would cause people to feel sympathy by telling her story.

I had to address this, and sometimes in the moment, I surprise myself with my spoken truth. I asked for further clarification and then explained my position as a parent.

For many of us, our children’s addiction/SUD started in their teens, a time when ‘normal’ teens are going to homecoming and prom and playing sports or going to sporting events. The parents of these ‘normal’ teens support their kids by showing up and being involved in these activities. Not us. We’re home, hiding in the shadows, often afraid that someone will find out what’s happening behind our front door.

This was true for me as a school district employee. There were a couple of trusted friends who I could talk with, but for the most part, I probably suffered from imposter syndrome. I was so good at being present for and making a difference for other people’s kids, and I couldn’t figure out how to fix my own son!

So, no, I cannot be exploited by being asked to speak about my son and the disease that plagued him. I showed up for him by making phone calls and doing research and getting him to appointments. When his SUD was active in his young adulthood, I showed up by picking him up in the middle of the night, by visiting him and sending him books when he was incarcerated, by sitting with him while he was sick from detoxing, by taking him to his monthly Suboxone appointments 3 hours away,… No one who hasn’t loved their child with SUD can understand. I want them to understand!!!!

I did all of these things for my beautiful boy in the shadows, where SUD thrives. I was not ashamed of my son, but I felt the shame that society would cast on us, on him, if they knew. I felt the look of the pharmacist’s eyes as they glanced in our direction to get a look at who was picking up this prescription. I would silently stand next to Blake in a show of solidarity, and then we would walk out together and I would take him to lunch. We would sometimes check-in on Facebook at one of our favorite sushi places, but we never checked in at Fresh Start (the Suboxone prescriber) or Rite Aid.

Blake tried, he really really tried, he wanted it enough, he hit rock bottom, we had boundaries, our relationship was strong always, and he and we still lost. So you know what? I’m taking that spotlight, and I’m shining it on this fucking disease at any opportunity I get! I’m doing that for Blake, because he expects nothing less, and I’m doing it for all the families who have lost and for their children who are with my son. Mostly though, I’m doing it for the ones still fighting, who might feel like I did, who would do anything to help their child and feel the need to protect them at the same time.

So no, I cannot be exploited by asking me to tell our story. It’s how I show up for my son and support him now. It’s all I have left. And if our story evokes sympathy, well, we don’t need or want any sympathy, but if that’s all a person feels, at least they’re feeling something.

I want to add that I recognize that not everyone will feel compelled to stand up in front of an audience and tell their story the way I have and will continue to do, and that’s completely okay. We all have different talents and all of us are needed. And I’m sorry if my use of the f-word offends you, but SUD, and the stigma that surrounds it, deeply, deeply offends me, and I feel that word is appropriate in the context.