Sketches from the Bottom: It’s Not Over Yet

Part 5 of a series.

Healing is a fight.

Susan* has over 10 years of sobriety. Through the recovery program at the mission, where I worked as a summer intern, she broke free from her drug addiction and regained custody of her children. She worked for several years with women who were struggling with addiction, and she provided encouragement to many who were struggling as she once was.

She is a success story with her kids, job, housing, and years of clean time. She kicked the habit, so her life is fine, right?

Not quite.

Susan’s past hurts, owing to the complicated blend of family wrongs and of consequences for addictive behavior. Her mother did everything for her sister—even driving to another state when she was stranded—but little for Susan. On one occasion, her family accused her of stealing her son’s Social Security check, and barred her from participating in her sister’s wedding. Her sister gave the bridesmaid dress to someone else, even though Susan had paid for it.

Then her former husband did not return to her when he was released from prison. The resentment lingers, even though Susan knows that she would have picked up drugs again if he returned.

Addiction doesn’t end when people flush their vodka down the toilet or throw away their last needle. That is just the beginning of recovery, as my co-workers explained to me. They had fought their own battle for sobriety, and were now helping others.

The physical battle against addiction is fought first as their mind and body crave the drug that’s killing them. The fog of addiction lingers as people adjust to a life that is no longer centered around using. And when the initial glow of being clean wears off, life starts to get harder. People recovering from addiction remember the things that triggered their addiction—severe childhood trauma, family dysfunction, abusive relationships—and they don’t have something to numb the pain anymore.

People in recovery must find a way to survive without their coping mechanisms, but the loss of control is terrifying.

In order to recover, addicts must face everything that they hate about themselves and their past, and admit their powerlessness. It’s like leaving the safety of a bomb shelter to find the wreckage of their former lives: broken buildings, injured people, polluted air.

In my work at the mission, I listened to men and women who were grappling with addiction’s aftermath. Their parents would not let them enter their house, because they had stolen their belongings for drug money. Their kids wouldn’t speak to them because addiction had reduced their childhood to chaos.  Their utility companies waited for unpaid bills, but their past would make it challenging to find work.

Life in recovery can be very difficult.

But at the same time, there is hope for recovering addicts—and for all of us—because God isn’t done yet. Even in the middle of destruction,  we know that vines, flowers, and small trees sprout between the cracks, turning the broken slowly into something beautiful.

*Name changed to protect privacy.