I love you. I love you for what you give me. I love you because you listen to me. You believe me, and I love that tool. So it is this that I promise, that I will continue to take and will not give. It will always be about me and not about you. For I love the power and control your love allows. It allows me to get away with murder, even my own.
Life is fragile. Death is inevitable for all of us. In the world of drugs and alcohol, fragile lives meet early, untimely deaths. Many of these deaths could have been avoided if the addicted one had not been enabled. Not to blame the family, the friends, the spouses or otherwise, they just did not realize that their behaviors were only hurting the addict. Image may be NSFW.
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Enablers help as to not hurt, but sometimes we must hurt in order to help. The thing is, we wait on the addict to change, when in turn, the enabler must change the way they think when it comes to helping.
Kevin was a nice boy. He grew up in a seemingly normal home environment. He was a loving, bright child, who was the apple of his parents’ eye. He was a model student, a good athlete with much promise.
Kevin tells the story that the self-induced pressure of keeping up with his own high expectations led him to self-medicate. His use started harmlessly enough, with a few beers after school that gave him some peace and some comfort. Three beers led to four, four beers led to pills, the pills led to the needle and all of his promise led to dismay.
Dad and Mom certainly concerned, did everything and anything they could to help. They had him see a counselor; they bailed him out of all kinds of problems. They prayed for him, they questioned themselves. Kevin has a million excuses, some which make perfect sense, but all of which Dad and Mom believed.
Kevin became the topic of all family dinners, of all marital conversation, the other children came second. This family’s lives revolved around Kevin. He’s doing so well; he’s not doing well. He’s gonna get better; I just know he’s going to change. We will take away something he values; wait, let’s buy him something he really wants. We’ll get counseling together, only to undermine that process with our intense denial.
Every merry go round has the horse of death. Kevin died in his new BMW, paid cell phone in hand, a needle stuck in his arm, blood running down the side of his mouth.
As Psalm 23 was being read at his funeral, Mom and Dad had only wished they had done things completely different. Had they only let him hit bottom, not given so much. Perhaps they should have taken direction from the counseling they sought.
They enabled Kevin to death and now must live with that guilt and the hurt. They will have to live with all the questions and what if’s. Peace will elude them for a long time, as Kevin’s life parades through their minds day after day, year after year.
This is a story I have heard too many time to mention. It is a story that could have ended differently, but a story that had to end the way it ended.
The moral of the story is this: Do not wait for the addict to change, because they won’t; they do not have the capability, but you do. Seek professional help immediately. Take direction from others who have no emotional attachment. You may not like what you hear and change will be uncomfortable and frightening. But by changing the way you think, react and respond to an addict, may very well save his or her life. Kevin died so that others may live.
That’s just the way it is in the world of addiction. Life is fragile and need not meet an early death. But again, if you’re waiting for the addict to change, you’re waiting on the wrong person.
When you change, the addict will change. When the addict changes, the outcome will change. When the outcome changes, lives are changed; all of your lives – and for the better.
This is not an easy road, but an easier road in the long run. You don’t want to bury a loved one prematurely, it’s not fun.
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