A glimpse into my story & why healing became so important.

I want to start this off by saying that I fully acknowledge that substance dependency/addiction is a disease, and I would never want to minimize that. This is not a story of blame, or judgment, or coming from an angry place. My story is truly just from the perspective of a family member, in my case a child. Because it really is a beast for the family members too. 

I was never abused, I never went unfed or unclothed. I graduated high school and even got a post secondary education. In comparison to so many others my childhood was great. So why am I hurting so much, why do I feel so lost. Why am I sad and unhappy? Why don’t I cry anymore. Why am I numb?

I didn’t understand until much later in life what had happened to me as a child.  I am a child of substance abuse and addiction. It had been within the household for as long as I can remember to varying degrees. I had grown up way too fast, I had taken on the role of protector and nurturer for my little brother, I had learnt to get through an event and then say ok that’s done, a crisis averted not to be thought about again. That next fight or crisis was always coming though.  I had grown up living in a constant state of fight or flight, and I spent  zero time actually learning or understanding who I was. Not knowing who I was and being desperate to belong to a healthy functional unit led me down the road of marrying the wrong person. That’s a double edged sword for me though because had I not done that, I wouldn’t have my two beautiful children. And not one single moment of their lives have I looked and said I regret that. 

At the age of 29 I got divorced, and my dad was back in full fledged addiction…and still is. But I was so focused on my kids and making sure they were okay there was nothing left to ask myself how I was doing. Once they were okay, that was when I broke. I laugh now thinking about it, but I seriously had no idea how unwell I was - or even why. 

I never doubted that my parents loved me, in fact I knew they did. My dad was my best friend. And I never would have guessed that in my 30’s I’d feel like I’m grieving someone who’s very much alive every single day. That my kids wouldn’t know their grandpa. Or that I would have had to walk away from my dad. Ty asked me what the hardest part about being surrounded by addiction was and I think my answer was like ooh boy or something like that and I found myself really unsure what to say. Honestly, it’s just the heartbreak. Not being chosen over the substance. The complete and utter helplessness you feel when you can’t save them from themselves. Three ish years ago, I damn near killed myself trying with complete desperation to save my dad. Begging and pleading, cleaning up his messes, letting him back in only to have him shatter me yet again, looking at him in the eyes and not seeing my dad anymore. There was a lot of trauma at that time for me. And it broke me. I can’t pinpoint the moment when I knew I couldn’t do this anymore but I drove to his house one day and I stood in his doorway and through tears and a shaky voice I told him I was handing him back this burden. I have to take care of myself now so I can be who I need to be for my babies and break this cycle. Truth be told had it not been for my beautiful little humans I very well might still be circling that drain. All I wanted was my dad back. But I was crazy, he didn’t have a problem, I just needed to relax. It was a hard pill to swallow that I couldn't save him. He has to save himself. 

I put in a lot of work with therapy, medication, and re-building who I was as a person. And what happened during that was a realization that the pieces just didn’t fit the same anymore. I lost a lot of people because I was no longer yes Jess. I had more courage to vocalize what I needed, to set boundaries, to stop trying to fix people and to stop changing myself to fit into the room. The biggest thing was I was finally able to accept that I couldn’t fix my dad, and it wasn’t my fault. I still carry around a lot of guilt, and I miss him every day, the pain is still there but it doesn’t consume me anymore. 

How did I get there? I had to unpack my childhood. I had to learn why my environment shaped my mental health the way it did in order to relearn how to change it. I had to learn that I never felt secure in a group of friends because I never felt secure at home, I never knew when the next blow up was gonna be or when the rug was going to be pulled out from under me. I had to learn that I was a fixer and needed control but I grew up worrying about my little brother and wanting to protect him. I wanted to control how our environment affected him and that grew with me until adulthood and every situation I entered. Don’t rock the boat. That’s all I ever knew. I learnt why I got married when it didn’t feel right, I learnt why my kids triggered me so much, I learnt why I needed to keep my home so clean, I learnt why I never just felt content or happy. I was STILL always waiting for the next shoe to drop. There are still triggers that exist for me, like loud music in a group setting or specific songs…like I do not know who the eff Alice is but please stop asking! Toxic humour, another thing I am stuck with for life!

The journey will be different for everyone. And I’ll never be “cured” but all I can say is that it doesn’t have to be this way. You don’t have to feel this way forever. Even if it’s just opening up to a friend to start, say SOMETHING. It’s a comfortable safe thing to go to not open that door because then you have to deal with it right? But you get to pick your hard. Healing is hard, and living in a state of darkness is hard. So guess what? You’ve already been doing hard, you can do hard things. 

I shared this story at my first ever speaking event earlier this year. It was the most liberating yet nerve racking experience. My mom was there, my little brother was there, I had friends there. And it was an oppurtunity to just be heard. That moment was when I knew that telling my story, being an advocate for mental health, and helping those that struggle know that they aren’t alone was what I was meant to do.