We Are Only as Sick as Our Secrets

After my realization from yesterday about needing to take control, I decided that today was the day to get help. Two weeks ago I tried to go to a Narcotics Anon meeting, but found out after I got there that the meeting was cancelled. Ever since then I have been making excuses to myself about why I shouldn't go again. Narcotics Anon meetings are only available in two places even semi close to me and they are both 30 or more minutes away. Each of these Narcotics Anon meetings is only once a week at a bad time (Tuesday nights, when I'll usually have class and Friday nights, when I'll be trying to have a social life). Clearly this wasn't working.

I heard from a few people that Al Anon (similar to Alcoholics Anonymous, but for the loved ones of Alcoholics) is really helpful, even if the loved one has a different addiction. When I looked up available Al Anon meetings there were some every day of the week, at several locations fairly close to me, and at multiple times throughout the day. This was encouraging, but at the same time made me upset. It seemed unfair that this support was so readily available to loved ones of alcoholics, but not of other addictions. Perhaps this was evidence of the stigma even the families of illegal-drug addicts feel when trying to cope. Hmm...

I decided on a 1 PM meeting and arrived almost an hour early. I walked through the church courtyard, straight to the office, and confidently asked the woman to point me in the direction of the Al Anon meeting. No shame this time. I was there to get help and I didn't care who knew it. She pointed at a room that wasn't open yet, but told me there was a bench outside of it where I could sit and wait. I let my skin take in the sun even as I got hot and a bit sweaty. I wanted to be completely engulfed in the light that I had deprived myself of for the past couple of days. I breathed in and out, letting my lungs swell with the air of the outside world that I felt happy to be a part of today.

Although I can't share much about what went on due to confidentiality, I will say that I did not speak at all during this meeting aside from choking on my name. I don't think this was because I was afraid, but because I just needed to sit and soak it all in. Instead of talking, I did a lot of crying, listening, and reflecting. After it concluded, the woman next to me, perhaps sensing the inner conflict I felt after not speaking up, reassured me that it wasn't necessary to share at the meetings. She explained that sometimes you get even more out of what someone else said. 

During the meeting I scribbled down a quote from the book, Courage to Change, that the leader had someone read a passage from:

"We are only as sick as our secrets. 

Until we let them out into the light, they keep us trapped."

After the wave of insecurity I put myself through over the past few days, this really resonated with me. As much as Blake's death was about him, it is now a part of me and all of those who love him. This tragedy can either become a pain buried in the depths of my heart, or a scar that blends into the landscape of my skin. It's my choice. 

I realize I need to get to a place where I allow this experience to become a part of me without it defining me. This is tricky and is going to take time to navigate. But while I'm working on that, I can find comfort in my choice to free myself of the burden of carrying the hurt as a secret. I've made an effort to not get trapped and I am very proud of myself for sticking to that decision.

Assumptions and Judging

A couple days ago I looked up a support group called Narcotics Anon. I heard the meetings are similar to Alcoholics Anonymous and Narcotics Anonymous, but geared towards the loved ones of addicts instead of the addicts themselves. I searched for meetings in San Diego and found one that meets Tuesday nights not too far from my apartment.

After I finally made the choice to go, I started shaking. In that moment I felt the weakest I have in weeks. I started crying and breathing shallow and uncomfortable breaths. This strong reaction took me by complete surprise. Shouldn't I feel empowered now that I've made the choice to seek help and support? I didn't. I felt nauseous.

Before I left to get in my car, I grabbed the bear that Blake bought me. I decided I needed to take him with me; I couldn't leave my room and face this meeting unless the bear came too. I felt like I had reverted back to a little girl desperately needing her teddy. I didn't want to completely embarrass myself, so I compromised that I would leave the bear in my purse the whole time and only squeeze his hand from inside if I needed to.

As I walked up to the church, I sent a message to Blake asking him to help me find the strength to get through this. I kissed my twin freckle, checked to make sure the bear was snug and concealed in my purse, put one foot in front of the other, and went inside.

I don't really know what I was expecting to see, but I came upon a table set up with bright colored fliers and two elderly people wearing big name tags. I saw that they were volunteers for a kid's summer sports camp and realized I was in the wrong place. The woman enthusiastically asked me what I needed, but I didn't know what to say. I simply told her I was here for "a meeting" and asked if she knew where it was. Oh... "a meeting." I think she knew what I was referring to.

For the next 10 minutes I was passed off and guided around the church. Maybe it was my imagination, but I felt like after each new person was whispered to about "the meeting" I was looking for, I was immediately looked up and down. My head started to fill with self-doubt. Did they think I was an addict? I wanted to blurt out to each person that the meeting wasn't for me, it was because my boyfriend just died! That would make these judgmental people feel bad! I started to panic from the weight of my insecurity, frustration with how I thought I was being judged, and the let down of realizing the meeting had been cancelled.

I shut off and went into auto-pilot while a lady tried to find the number of someone who could give me more information. As I sat in the chair in her office, I cried unapologetically while inside I allowed my anger to build. SO WHAT if I was actually there because I am an addict? Shouldn't these church people be proud of me? Shouldn't they be praising me for showing up, not making me feel judged for it? I decided that this must be part of the reason why it's so hard for addicts to come to terms with their addiction. Because people treat them like they are lesser because of it. If they can function normally with their drug use and it doesn't seem to have any obvious effects on their lives, why would they want anyone to know? Why would they agree to get help if the help is doled out condescendingly?

This rant in my head was interrupted when the lady apologized and told me there was no number listed. I was about to get up and go when she very sweetly told me how much these meetings helped her when her boyfriend died of an overdose and encouraged me to try to come back next week. I reached in my purse to grab the bear's hand. She went on. It was like she was explaining my exact situation back to me, only with the insight of being years past it, married to someone else, and raising three children.

Am I the judgmental one?

Did I assume just because these people worked at a church that they couldn't possibly be understanding of a person who uses drugs? Did my insecurity of being judged for this actually stem from the fact that I am judgmental of people who use drugs and didn't want to be mistaken for one? Is that why I awkwardly referred to it as "a meeting"?

So I didn't get to go to my first Narcotics Anon meeting last night, but I did have a valuable experience. I believe it's human nature to make assumptions and judge when you don't have all of the facts, and even when you do. We would be lying to ourselves if we boasted that we are free of biases, free of prejudices, free of jumping to hasty conclusions. The point isn't to never make assumptions or judgments, because that is nearly impossible. Instead, I am going to try to keep an open mind, to realize that the assumptions and judgements I've made about a person or thing might not be true. I think this will always be a constant battle against human nature, but one very worth fighting. You never know when someone will surprise you, so you have to make sure to give them the chance to.