Reality Wakes Me Up
Denial will be the death of us
Being present at any given moment is not easy in a society where we must always be on, even in our sleep, and in a thousand different directions. There are flame throwers everywhere. At times, being present is a requirement, not a choice.
One of those instances that required my absolute attention and awareness was when my daughter lay in a hospital bed in Bend, Oregon. She had been diagnosed with a liver disease - resulting from her alcohol addiction. She had revealed, at one point during discussions with her doctor, that she was up to a quart of vodka a day. My own liver quivered when I heard that confession.
One night as she lay reeling with pain from the symptoms of withdrawal, she was crying out that her skin felt as if a thousand needles were poking her entire body. My daughter’s situation became abundantly real and incredibly dire in that moment. I rubbed her all over, attempting to alleviate her horrendous and unimaginable discomfort. I could feel intensely what she described in my own body. We have always been in tune with one another’s physical and emotional state since she was a young child. If she was in pain, hurt herself, skinned her knee, banged her head, whatever, I felt it in my bones. I would shut down, pleading with her father to take over, offering her immediate medical attention, or taking her to the clinic if needed. I would either faint, get lightheaded, and/or nauseated in these instances. My motherly abilities were worthless during those painful events- my strength was in the aftermath, where physical comfort and words could be freely expressed.
But this particular night was a true awakening as I chose to stay with her and feel what she was going through to the fullest extent possible. I attempted, in my feeble way, to comfort her. It was pretty impossible until the medication given would slowly work its way through her system.
I recall with undeniable clarity rubbing her body as hard as I could, stretching out the skin in my own weird way to spread out those imaginary (but very real to her) needles poking her a thousand times and repeatedly over the next twelve hours.
In my daughter's case, I became aware of how the body works to heal itself by expelling toxins in the most painful way. My inability to alleviate her agony was top of mind. I felt like a failure, but knew this was nature’s way, and my work was to step back and allow that to happen. Those limitations smacked my ego off its pedestal, and I would have to be okay with that. What I could do is be present and act compassionately with whatever was to come next.
This is a story from almost nine years ago. I am grateful to have been present for my daughter then and now as she has been in recovery for five years. We are both warriors and continue to be there for each other.
As I remember this difficult time in my family’s life and how we woke up to the realities of the situation and took action, I am also thinking about the devastating and disconcerting nationwide and world issues that have arisen in recent months. Many notable and not-so-notorious players (myself included) are playing the blame game, which helps nothing.
I speak with a bit of experience because I initially blamed myself for my daughter’s addiction and then blamed many others, along with our culture of alcohol consumption. It was almost like the stages of grief - denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Most of which do not lead to recovery.
During this tumultuous time, we can blame voters for making a poor choice or no choice at all, but that will not change the fact that we have what we have RIGHT NOW. So what are we going to do about it? I have accepted that I must be present for what is happening (the last stage of grief). Now it’s time to arm ourselves with informed answers and viable strategies. This is what I did while observing my daughter sabotage her life through alcohol. I read books, I wrote, I talked to people, and I became informed about the realities of addiction. Then, I acted where it was appropriate as a parent. She, of course, had to do the rest.
If this current constitutional disaster isn’t a call for some civics education, I don’t know what is. Our democracy has been on fragile ground for some time as our rights are being whittled away because we are not paying attention. I, too, have taken democracy for granted. But none of that matters RIGHT NOW.
We can no longer rely on information being spun by traditional or social media that does not check facts or chooses to sugarcoat the realities. It is on us to act accordingly to meet the issues where they are. The only person or set of resources my daughter could rely on entirely as she worked toward her recovery was herself. She had to fight against some pretty epic odds. The recovery world is not optimum, and in many cases, it is more about money made than helping patients. A situation we are dealing with in all of healthcare.
There is no skating through this life without fighting for yourself, your community, and your family. Denial will be the death of us. Look into your personal lives at the times you have denied the truth. How did that work out for you? I denied my daughter’s addiction for years, thinking this could not happen to my family. When, in fact, it did, and for many reasons, some beyond my control.
As a nation, this is our pain and suffering RIGHT NOW at this moment in time, and it’s damn serious business. Be present, speak up, stand up, resist what does not feel right, and do whatever you can to keep democracy intact for another day. The tides they are a shifting.
As an artist, I can express the gambit of my emotions through my art; please find your vehicle. The image accompanying this article was painted in the last couple of months in reaction to what has been happening on the national and world stage. Shifting Tides
Michelle Lindblom