There’s an advantage to stepping back and taking a deep breath…perhaps gathering a bit clearer perspective. I wrote the outline for this post three days ago when the experience was fresh and my emotions were a bit on edge. I’ve cleaned it up and chosen more appropriate wording today. I was frustrated, angry, and doing some soul-searching.
Those who know me well would likely say that I’m not interested in wasting my time or anyone else’s writing for the sake of writing…there must be a purpose, and most important, it’s got to be a benefit to those who take the time to hear my thoughts. The experience of the appointment three days ago led me into a time of wrestling with where I truly stand on the topics I write about in this blog when those proverbial mountains look impossible to climb.
With that all said, let’s go back to the appointment on Wednesday.
THREE DAYS AGO
Her 64-year-old icy blue/grey eyes struck me this afternoon as we talked about her relapse on meth. In previous appointments, she’d shared a bit of her history growing up: she’s been an alcoholic since the age of 16, she endured much trauma growing up in a dysfunctional family, but she stops short of talking about the details of the abuse…I think I have a small idea of what it may have looked like. In her adult years she’s added heroin and meth to the list of bondages she’s enslaved to, and the abuse continues at her own hands.
She’s consistently avoided blaming though…she comes across like… “it is what it is.” At her age, she’s learned to be direct and to the point about her circumstances, not wasting time in those catch-me-if-you-can games. She has no desire to go to jail, but she also knows herself well enough to know that if she is going to use, there is no threat of a consequence that will detour her.
Today however, she talked about her circumstances with more of an edge to her concern…like she’d crossed paths with a monster that scared her. She described the current reaction to the drug as something she’d never experienced before, and her cravings are more vicious.
As she stared upward, pausing in the middle of a thought, I felt rather helpless (it was at that moment that the image of her eyes stuck with me). I wanted to say something positive… but I resisted putting a positive spin on a comment because, bottom line, if I did that it was so I could feel better. She’d see right through a shallow comment like that. I didn’t have the magic wand answer to solve the mountain of issues she’s facing right now: addiction, potential homelessness, and a body aged by the hard life an addiction causes.
At one point she appeared to just change the subject when she said to me, “you know they pulled another girl from the river don’t you?”
Honestly…no, I never heard that.
I also never heard about “Suzy” found three weeks earlier until she told me. I then realized where her train of thought was going…death. She’s not suicidal, but she seems to be exhausted with life, and death could have some welcome benefits to it.
AN INTERNAL CONFLICT BUILDING
I’m almost 30 years into working with people on the fringes in society, so taking my work home with me is just a way of life. It doesn’t matter how many times I hear people talk about boundaries and say “take care of yourself”. I truly believe that those of us who love this work…I mean, really love it, we don’t do it to see people jammed up in the legal system; we find no joy in a person going back to court and possibly ending up in community corrections or prison, and we certainly don’t do it for the paycheck…we do it because we believe in people and we want to see people discover the best version of themselves. That said, I take my work home with me.
So, as I sat silently with this gal whose body said she was closer to the mid-80’s than mid-60’s, I found my thoughts drifting toward some of the positive messages I’ve put on my office wall…topics I’ve written about in this blog:
On and on I could go looking at the messages on my wall, and as I considered them, a conflict grew within me.
(Forgive me while I go back three days for the briefest of moments because to edit the question 72-hours later would inaccurately convey the battle within my head…)
IS THIS STUFF JUST POSITIVE THINKING BULLSHIT?
This gal is absolutely accountable for her life choices and she’s making no excuses, but she is fragile, she is broken. She needs to feel hope; she needs to feel joy; and right now, she doesn’t have much fight in her.
The questions silently grew in my head as we sat there in my office. I’m comfortable with silence in my appointments because there are times when a person simply needs to sit in the muck of their circumstances…those can be powerful moments. But right now, I was the one sitting in the muck of my own questions.
- “Do you really believe this shit Gordon, or is it nothing more than feel-good stuff?
- “Can I really tell her in this moment to find some small step you can take today?”
- “Will it be productive to challenge her that in these moments when she doesn’t feel like fighting, these are the moments she must fight?”
She must find the strength to take a small step; she must find it in her to care enough about taking a step forward because no one else can do it for her.
So, the answer to those questions in my head 72-hours later is “Yes! I absolutely believe the messages I put on my wall and in this blog!” Now, I must find it in me to be gentle in these moments with my encouragement; I must find a way to convey to the person in deep holes such as this that they do have it in them to find their way out; to take control of one thing at a time and begin to change the trajectory of their lives; to impact outcomes in a positive way.
Then, I think of Kent…
REMEMBERING KENT
Kent was a guy I met through a good friend years ago. Kent was an alcoholic; He was a good guy who beat alcoholism for a time…but sadly wound up back in it until the day he was found dead in downtown Fort Collins.
Shortly after Kent fell back into the grips of alcohol, I received a call from my friend, and we went looking for him. Kent was so intoxicated when he called my friend, he couldn’t say what motel he was at, but he was asking for help.
My friend and I found him at some point in the night thanks to the help of a motel staff person willing to give us information they probably shouldn’t have shared.
To cut to the point of the story, Kent wanted help and we had convinced him to check into Detox. The process involved Kent taking the first step of being medically cleared at the hospital before Detox would accept him. Kent agreed to let us get him dressed and dump the remaining bottles of liquor. He agreed to leave his hotel room and get in my friends’ car. The problem occurred when we arrived at the Emergency Room parking lot. Kent sat down on the curb and began refusing to walk through those doors to the ER. We talked; we pleaded. Kent wouldn’t budge. Those doors to the ER became an insurmountable barrier Kent could not overcome.
At the end, I remember standing over Kent sitting there on the curb in the parking lot, extending my hand to him and bluntly saying that he needed to reach out and take hold of my hand or we were done. Kent refused and we left the ER parking lot. As sad as it is, we can only help a person so far in the journey. I was big enough physically to pick Kent up and drag his drunk ass into the ER, but if he wasn’t willing to take those steps on his own, he would not be willing to take the next steps in the recovery process…and he would be right back in this condition.
I cannot say how long after this particular evening Kent passed away from being severely intoxicated, but the reality is that addiction is war and sometimes we have to be okay being in the ugliness of the fight. Compassion is so important in the process, but compassion is strong and firm, and sometimes it can appear harsh in the moment.
REFLECTING ON THE MESSAGE IN THIS BLOG
As I consider the messages I’ve posted previous to this, I recognize that each of us have mountains we are attempting to climb, some are foothills, some are 14’ers. Some of us are simply working to add positive habits to an otherwise healthy happy life; some of us are fighting for freedom from addiction of some sort…legal or illegal; many of us are secretly fighting for freedom from well-traveled thought patterns that, like leaven working its way into dough, have worked their way into so many different areas of our lives that they almost go unnoticed if we’re not paying attention.
This is my perspective here and I put it on no one else, but from where I stand, if “CHANGE” is going to take place in areas we’ve previously failed to succeed in, there will be a point where the negotiations turn ugly and war breaks out. The closer we come to the true point of change, the more resistance comes against us…just like in Kent’s situation. Kent was open and workable until the doors of the ER came into view. Once he saw those doors, all negotiations ceased and resistance took over. The true nature of the situation revealed itself and it was war.
As much as I’d grown to love Kent as a friend, I needed to match the strength of his resistance with strength of my own. Perhaps you’ve heard the saying of “bringing a knife to a gunfight”? If we’re going to engage in the fight, we better be prepared with the appropriate weapons.
As uncomfortable as it was for me to be direct and honest with my 64-year old client the other day, she needed to hear strong words of compassion that match the strong words of her personal war and she needed to hear that I believe she has it in her to stand and fight. I failed on that day because my compassion came across as weak but she comes in every two weeks so I will be better prepared in 10 days for this appointment.
As for someone reading this message: I’m a person who experienced the prison doors opening in my life only to allow them to shut me in again over the past couple years through complacency. The door is once again opened, and I am walking out, but it’s a war fighting for that freedom.
As for you, be prepared for resistance to turn ugly as you fight for breakthrough and be excited when the fight gets ugly because that means the doors to your freedom are within sight…