Sports imitates life…
As I journaled early one morning this week, I thought of a gal on my caseload. She has a name…but she will remain nameless here. Our conversations the past two weeks have stirred me; inspired me.
Seriously… the transformation in the past two weeks has been nothing short of a miracle. These everyday human experiences I get to witness from the cheap seats do something inside my own spirit and sometimes, I don’t know what to do with the energy that comes to the surface.
Addiction is ruthless…it is powerful…and yet, it can be defeated.
As my pen flew over the pages that morning thinking about this gal’s story, the words… “death lost its lead” came out. I paused staring at those words, considering what they mean here, and I realized there is a story to tell.
This is a brief account of the past 4-5 months with this client…and a phone call at the darkest of days that changed everything for her. The outcome is yet to be decided…but I can tell you this, the word “Death” is not a dramatic play on emotions in this case…it is a real player, a real force in this game. Death had a big lead at one point, even looked like it was going to cruise to victory. But the game isn’t over until there is 0:00 on the clock, and this gal had some good fortune and some fight in her, and for the time being…Death Lost Its Lead!
STARTING IN THE FALL 2022
Over the past few months, addiction has ravaged her 64-year-old body. Between the toll of the drugs, an infection that hasn’t improved in at least 3 months despite weekly medical attention, elevated levels of stress in the home, and the looming weight of a legal system bearing down on her, I’ve watched as she has become more and more fragile, both physically and mentally.
She reported at some point in November that her weight dropped under 100lbs (and it’s remained under 100lbs), and the depression has been so heavy she fights many days just to get out of bed.
I told her to go to Detox so medical personnel could be available during the detoxification process, but she was rejected at the hospital due to the infection. She needed to be medically cleared for Detox to pick her up, and we hit a roadblock because of the infection.
She knew we were closing in on a decision-point as mid-January drew near. I had no desire to send her case back to court, but ready or not, her termination date was closing in and she wasn’t getting clean. In fact, we were heading the wrong way fast.
Her case is a complicated one. She’s been in the legal system for over 6 years on one case and 3 years on another; she’d been involved in some specialty programs through the court system, being kicked out almost a year ago and landing on my caseload in early 2022. The only thing the Court ordered was for her to get clean and remain clean. No specific treatment, no community service.
Personally, I think the Court just didn’t know what to do with her anymore.
JANUARY 2023 – VERY DARK DAYS
She came into my office in January with little hope, knowing I was required to file a revocation that would send her back to court. She feared possibly being sent to Community Corrections or worse due to this most recent failure on probation. She was aware that if she went to jail for an extended amount of time, she’d lose her benefits and housing and be back out on the street, medically and psychologically fragile. At her age, she would be facing almost insurmountable odds of making it out of this alive. In these moments, as I reflect on her story, I’m reminded of something she said early on in our time together when she talked about being on the streets, referring to herself as a “river girl” because that’s where the homeless people seemed to go when they had nowhere to go.
She was on a wait list for an inpatient program through the local mental health provider, but there was no guarantee when a bed would become available. She’d signed releases allowing me to talk with the mental health provider, and I understood everyone on that waitlist in front of her had their own version of an urgent story…we simply had to wait our turn.
I met with her weekly in January, and the day came for her to report to my office to sign the summons, returning back to court. We had a court date; the revocation process had begun.
When she arrived at my office on this particular Friday afternoon, she appeared very weak physically, and if she did possess a remnant of hope, I certainly didn’t see it. She expressed concerns about the legal process; updated me on the waitlist for the inpatient program; talked of the stress in her home, it was all incredibly overwhelming to me! I could only imagine how it was impacting her.
DIVINE INTERVENTION? DON’T TELL HER IT WASN’T!
She signed the summons…the appointment was about to end. She’d cried and spoke in such a week and fragile voice about all the overwhelming issues she faced. She had no strength to address any of them. I sat there representing the legal system, frustrated at the lack of answers, knowing that incarceration is no solution in this situation.
Her phone rang…
We stopped talking and she answered the call… It was the inpatient program! They had a bed date…for next Tuesday! She gave me the phone, allowing me to talk with the staff…they were ready for her; she was ready for them. Energy suddenly filled the room; hope came out of nowhere; momentum radically swung in her favor.
(As I write this…I’m thinking of how it sounds like I’m trying to be dramatic. I can’t emphasize enough I’m not trying to manipulate anyone’s emotions here. This gal was defeated, and in her condition physically, mentally, spiritually…she was at her end. That call did everything to shake her world.)
She hung up and started crying. Finally…this gal catches a break. She still has a court date; she still isn’t clean…but there is hope. She wants to process with me. She’s not an overly religious gal. In her mid-60’s, with a crackling smokers voice, she can drop the F-bomb with any sailor. She has some cynicism about the organized Church, probably won’t see her ever in any of our fancy mega-church campuses around here…but she is certain this was a divine moment for her. The moment prior to the call was so dark…no hope.
Then suddenly, hope!
In those moments, she knew what none of us can know unless we’ve walked through those moments. She knew a divine encounter had taken place. She knew God had shown up in her midnight hour.
SEVERAL WEEKS CLEAN; A DIFFERENT PERSPECTIVE
I’ve spoken to her a couple times now since she went into the inpatient program about three weeks ago. The first call came almost two weeks into her stay in the program. I asked her to paint a picture with words to describe where she’s at, what she’s learned, what she’s thinking…I didn’t really care where she began…I just wanted her to start painting.
She immediately went to the spiritual side of her addiction. She started by warning me that I would think she’s crazy…we’re long beyond that fear… and she said, “I don’t know how else to say it, but it was like there were demons attached to me, and they were removing my soul.” She talked about being spiritually depleted, and she said several different times, “I need to stay close to my Holy Spirit.”
As I listened, I realized that there is a perspective those in the thick of battle possess that those of us on the outside simply cannot fully understand. We can listen and try to appreciate what is being said…but we will never be able to fully appreciate the hell that is war…and fighting for sobriety was, and is war for this gal.
I spoke with her again this past Monday. Her voice is strong, her perspective is clearing. She’s clean; she’s learning how she got to that dark place; she’s building a relapse plan. I’m talking with her and her therapist about the need to establish safe boundaries; to identify who should be in her inner circle and who she needs to give the boot to.
I’ve been in this work long enough to know this game is far from over. There will be plenty of moments where setbacks could occur, where the opponent could make adjustments and form a counterattack. This gal is far from out of this battle…but she’s back in the game and death has certainly been put on its heels in retreat mode.
This morning, several days after first writing the draft on this story, I sit rereading and editing it. Tears form in my eyes as I recount this gal’s story…the past 12 months I’ve been privileged to walk with her.
The question is there…it’s in the back of my mind slowly coming to the forefront… “Why am I so emotional about this story today?
NEEDING THAT CALL
I needed that call in my own life, and I suspect, if I live long enough, I’ll be in another circumstance where I need that call again.
I am grateful that I know in those dark moments…the phone will ring.
We still have a responsibility to answer, and perhaps I’ll let it go to voicemail sometimes…
…but the phone still rings…