Co-Authored by Bailey Schaefer
Dear Drugs,
I’ve never met, touched or tasted you…but I know you. You’re destructive. Seven years of nightmares, anxiety, fear, and isolation all produced by you. You’re the uninvited guest, responsible for ruining countless occasions, birthdays, and holidays. You’re hungry and greedy. Possessing the addict wasn’t enough, so you cast your net wider, creating a family disease, which knows no bounds and no limits. You’re persistent and ruthless, holding my big sister captive. You took my family. You once took a part of me.
Drugs, you hijacked my life. Time I will never get back. People I will never see again, and memories I will never have the opportunity to make. It wasn’t just my sister you stole; I was your slave too.
Drugs, you made me bury someone standing right in front of me. To mourn all that she was, and all she wanted to be. I grieve for my big sister every day; even as she looks me straight in the eyes. This hurts the most because it is in her eyes that I see what you, Drugs, took from us.
Author Ted Bowman describes this special kind of grief as “the loss of hopes and dreams,” something we all relate to. Everyone has dreams that for one reason or another might not come to fruition. But because of you, Drugs, my story isn’t about mourning having a shot at being an actress or playing in the NBA. My hopes and dreams were having a big sister. My hopes and dreams were having my family in tact.
Addiction has such a large ripple effect, and it is almost always the family that is hit hardest by the shrapnel. Siblings of drug addicts are often referred to as “collateral damage.” I call us the “road kill” of the recovery process. We suffer alone. Everyone can see the excruciating pain on our parents’ faces – but no one gets us. Sometimes I think they don’t even see us. No one person’s pain is bigger or more hard earned than another’s, but I know my voice echoes many when I say our pain is unique. We don’t just watch our siblings get annihilated - we also have to stand helpless as we witness our parents’ fall to their knees. We just want it to be better. Normal. And so, we try to fix it. We don’t want to cause our family more pain so we try to fly under the radar. In my case I also tried to be the sole source of happiness in my house. At sixteen years old, this was a big burden to bear. My biggest regret in this journey was trying to please and fix everyone but me.
Drugs, you’ve infiltrated my brain. You toy and flirt with my mind. You had as much control over me as you did my sister, but instead of instead of being consumed with thoughts of you, you consume me with fear. I’m afraid of what the future holds. I’m worried about getting the phone call. I’m petrified at the thought of another decade filled with you.
Drugs, I hate you.
Drugs, I thank you.
For all that you took you also gave back. I am now resilient. I can’t predict the future. I don’t know what will happen next. But - I do know I can handle it.
Resilience, you’re a rainbow after the storm.
Resilience you’re a shiny gold coin buried in the garbage dump. With you, I hit the jackpot.
Resilience, you are my sanity.
My mom (and for all intensive purposes, my hero) has been hammering the word resilience into my brain for years now, but only recently have I been able to truly understand what it means; fully embrace and nurture all the doors it opens and harness immense power it holds.
Resilience is my fork in the road. For the first time in seven years I have a choice. I can try just to survive this, or I can get in the driver’s seat and actually thrive. Being a competitive athlete for most of my life, the choice is simple. I choose to grow from this experience.
For me, resiliency began with getting comfortable with being uncomfortable. Drugs are still firmly enmeshed with my sister, and navigating this path is unchartered territory – thriving even if she isn’t okay. My world is disorienting. My sense of identity, community and security are in great flux. We’ve heard it a million times, but when Drugs are present in a family, it truly is one day at a time. So, I buckled in and learned to be content with what is, and relaxed without knowing what will be. Getting good with feeling bad opens up the possibility of discovering new ways to fight through the adversity. It is those times that often arise out of trauma or hardship that we find our previous way of being no longer serves us, and all that we know is called into question. It is said that a characteristic of resilience is having an ability to make decisions without having all the answers figured out first. I believe this comes from the faith and the belief that no matter the end result, you will either have success or you will learn something important about yourself. This is why resiliency is my greatest gift.
I can’t say that I have had many successes within the realm of addiction, but I have learned invaluable lessons about myself and this world, that would have otherwise been a mystery to me. So, Drugs. I thank you. Thank you for allowing me to re-discover myself. Thank you for allowing me to see the strength in myself and the beauty in others, no matter the circumstance. Because of you, I found a better me.
It is said “it isn’t about knowing how you’re going to land; it’s about the feeling when you jump,” and Drugs, because of you I vow to free fall knowing no matter what, I will always land on my feet.
From,
Bailey
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When an individual experiences addiction or is diagnosed with an illness, we often don’t understand the impact it can have on the family or loved ones. Patient centred care must include the family that surrounds them, as family is so crucial to the wellbeing of the individual and the health of their loved ones. Resources that focus on addiction should not only target the drugs, but the person.
Bailey’s message is beyond valuable. She lets us know that you aren’t necessarily resilient when you overcome adversity and finally achieve that happy ending. You are resilient when you are strong even when a happy ending is never in sight.
Resilience