Flying high is what I do. Sometimes I fly so high that you can’t see me and wonder where I’ve gone. As I descend into a dive, I skim the ground, but never hit bottom… you won’t let me. Your loving outstretched arms act as my net, which allows me to soar to new heights. Hitting bottom will always elude me as long as I have you to love me and enable me. Yes, I will fly into the heavens, not knowing it’s my hell.
Every addict, no matter where they’re at with their addiction, has already hit bottom. Whether they are functional or not, living in a mansion or homeless, the common ground they walk is the bottom. The addict lives the entitled life, always better than, not as bad as. They don’t recognize the bottom, for it’s all they know. The bottom is the bottom, is the bottom, is the bottom, period.
Drugs and alcohol acquaint you with the bottom. There is no blue sky, that’s the illusion. It’s kind of like the Painted Desert; the sand is blue, the rocks sparkle like stars at night, yet there’s no water, no oasis to be found, though the addict thinks not.
I often hear from many families, even professionals in the field, that the addict must hit bottom in order to receive help. That is nonsense. Every addict, whether you or they or anyone believes it or not, from the moment they put the drink to their lips, the pipe to their mouth, the straw to the nose, the needle to the arm, they have hit bottom. Your job is not to wait till they hit bottom. Your job is to show them that they are at the bottom.
Too many people who enable the addict also live in the blue sand. For out of the guilt and shame, the humiliation and hope, the sheer exhaustion the desert floor can bring, the blue sand becomes the sky in which our heads are buried.
Nancy was a wonderful, wonderful young girl. Everyone loved Nancy. She was beautiful, intelligent, she was an A student and head cheerleader. Her eyes sparkled. She was everything to everybody, a perfectionist.
The pressure built within her mind because nobody can be everything to everybody at all times. An injury forced her to have to have a minor surgery, which introduced her to pain pills. The pills not only caused her pain to dissipate, they also elevated her mood. She felt peace. Still the perfectionist, her rapid cycling mind slowed down a bit, allowing her to still be all things to all people. The pills allowed her to put a lid on the pressure built by keeping up appearance.
As time went on, the dosage increased. Everything else began to decrease. Gone were the grades, goodbye to the hobbies, isolation became common as the depression set in.
Nancy’s parents began to notice things were missing around the house. Their daughter’s appearance had changed; her moods were all over the map. They had lovingly confronted her on several occasions. Like Kevin’s parents, they gave her presents and incentives; they took things from her – privileges and the like.
Finally after so much had happened and the destruction this addiction was bringing to the family, they offered her help, again, or she must leave the home at once. Nancy chose to leave, knowing darn well her parents were bluffing. But to her surprise, they weren’t. Not this time. Mom and Dad took direction, which was the hardest thing they ever had to do, but they did it.
As the gleam fell from everyone’s eyes as Nancy was leaving, the parents’ parting words were: “Call us when you’re ready to get help.” Nancy lived around on friends’ couches, strangers’ beds, even homeless shelters. Dad lay awake many a night with the pain of guilt – Mom cried often. But they did the right thing; they showed her the bottom.
A few months later, Nancy called for help from a pay phone, mind you. Mom and Dad picked her up at the Salvation Army in L.A. and took her straight to rehab.
It’s a year later now, and after ninety days in treatment, Nancy lives in a sober living home for women. She is pursuing her college degree. All the “I hate you’s” have turned to “I love you.” Much family counseling has turned the sand back to its proper color. Had Nancy’s parents not shown her the bottom, her life would have ended like Kevin’s in an early death.
Today, as opposed to hearing Psalm 23 being read, Nancy’s parents heard her name announced at her college graduation. It was difficult for Mom and Dad to change, to pull their heads out of the blue sand, but by doing so, they have placed the blue back where it should be. Back in the sky.
Don’t get caught up being an addict’s net, you don’t need to be. There is no net needed at the bottom, for I have never yet met an addict who’s flying high.
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