Sometimes I forget how far I have come. It’s not that I just completely forget how much work I’ve done, I think it’s more that I get too caught up in looking around at what’s going on with other people and their progress.
For me this just isn’t a battle of staying away from substances , it’s a battle of resisting the urge to run away.
I truly can’t discount the work that it’s taken for me to crawl out from my own bunker to face the world head on, despite experiencing debilitating fear of what might happen next or what might be lurking.
Because the life that I broke free from was a life of a constant need to worry, to stay vigilant, and an incessant need to know what’s happening next.
The reality is I was living in insanity long before my addiction developed because none of those things are actually possible to grasp. That’s not what life is about and I finally realized I would never be happy or content if I was continually in protection mode searching for control.
And although it’s taken me some time to learn how to ride the waves of life and to not want to control everything, I feel very confident in where I am now and comfortable in my surroundings and thankful for my recovery.
Hi Christine.
First, thank you for being so open and willing to share with me.
I am sorry to hear about your childhood trauma and can imagine how those experiences have left you with a lot of work to do and so many scars. I am sorry.
No child deserves that kind of treatment or that level of undue responsibility.
As adults, it makes it pretty hard to navigate our lives.
I am also sorry to hear about your brother and your son. Our stories sound very similar.
I don’t have clear cut answers for you that will fix any of this.
What I do know is that having a childhood full of ongoing trauma, and also having a homeless brother myself who struggles with severe mental health issues makes it very hard for me to connect with others at times. It’s tough because “normal” people don’t necessarily understand the depth of sadness or the feelings of isolation when you are lying in bed at night wondering where your loved one is, or if they are even alive or safe or suffering. Or- how the after-effects of trauma bleed into every facet of my life.
I empathize. It is tough. I know how it is to give it to God and take it back regularly.
I have only found peace through Jesus’ and the stories in the Bible that give us examples of people who lost everything or endured tragic trials of every kind, who found solace and strength in the Lord. I also know that just because I struggle, doesn’t mean that I am not worthy or valued or just as capable as the next person. My struggles might be a bit more unique or bizarre, but they don’t mean I don’t matter, or that I can’t live my life the best I am able to-without guilt.
So that is what I do. I pray for my family continually, without feeling the need to fix or swoop in and save them all because I can’t. What I can do is seek God every single day, following His lead as to what I can do with a heart that wants to serve and help other people. So that’s what I do. I help people and council people who want help. In my heart, I know that God sees my family as individual people, and He knows and is aware of what they are struggling with. If there is ever an opportunity for me to step in and do something productive, I will, but until then, I will work where I am led.
If it helps at all, please please know that I am here anytime to listen and it’s okay to reach out to me, even just to vent or say hello for an update- and it always helps me to know that there are other people out in this world who truly understand the anguish having a homeless or mentally ill family member, who you cannot help or reach for whatever reason.
xxxxx– Britt
I had a childhood of trauma. Isolation, sexual abuse, abandonment, loneliness and heaps of misplaced responsibility placed on me.
I don’t know if my older brother is still homeless or alive. My 43 year old son has mental illnesses that cause him to push everyone away who cares about him. The sadness and grief for this and many more situations overtake me and make me feel very helpless. I don’t want my son to be like my brother. I can’t fix it or change it. I pray about it and then pick it back up. It’s so heavy.
Really beautiful. x
Always something more to discover when looking back. Not always pretty. But most often necessary. Thanks for the reminder.