On Loving a Recovering Addict

 

Opening Words:

This being human is a guest house.

Every morning a new arrival.

 

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes

as an unexpected visitor.

 

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,

still, treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out

for some new delight.

 

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,

meet them at the door laughing,

and invite them in.

 

Be grateful for whoever comes,

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond.

~Rumi

 

Sermon: On Loving a Recovering Addict

Unconditional love can be hard. My best friend is a recovering addict. Sometimes my best friend is an addict.

When I first met Amanda, I had no idea that we would become best friends. We had a one-time interaction at the hookah bar where we discovered we both liked Tim Burton and exchanged numbers. We texted a little bit, but it eventually petered out and we stopped talking entirely. Then, a few months later, I felt randomly compelled to text her and apologize that we’d never hung out. She responded with something completely unexpected: she was currently in in-patient treatment for alcohol addiction. Normally, I would have probably left it at that and moved on with my life. However, for some reason I felt a deeper draw towards this person. So, instead, we texted back and forth every day from 1-4 when she was allowed to have her phone. Because I had been so accepting of her even in a vulnerable state, we quickly became close.

When Amanda got out of rehab, we started hanging out regularly, immediately discovering that we had much in common, from our taste in media to our values. Soon, we became inseparable and she told me about her struggle with alcohol and drugs and how they had taken over her life. I felt empathy for her, but I honestly didn’t really get it as someone who had never been through addiction. I had heard the line that addiction is a sickness rather than a moral failing, but I had a hard time really understanding what that really meant.

I had also heard that relapse is a part of recovery, but I believed that based on what I knew of her, Amanda was too strong for that. So, when she relapsed I was totally unprepared. Watching someone you love relapse is like being in freefall. You can see things objectively, but there’s nothing you can do to stop it. At first, I thought that I had failed her as a friend or that my friendship wasn’t important enough to stop her from drinking. It took a lot of self-work and conversations with Amanda to realize that this was simply something I had no control over. I could be a support and provide as much love as I had, but that was almost irrelevant in the face of addiction. Hence, we worked hard to set some healthy boundaries. I could love and support Amanda with all the fierceness of my heart, but I could not for any reason, shoulder or take responsibility for her addiction.

At first, this boundary was hard. I wanted to save her. But, I had to realize that was not my place nor my responsibility. I could only be a safe harbor for her to come home to when she was ready. Amanda went back to in-patient treatment and we had to spend a month apart. She called me every Sunday when she had access to a phone for an hour. Despite the distance and the circumstances, we remained close.

When she got out again, we went back to our previous friendship right away. This time, things had really seemed to stick with her. She seemed so much more determined to care about herself and become who she wanted to be. I was fully supportive, and we began working on creating a loving community around us. So, when she relapsed again, I was once again unprepared.

When Amanda relapsed, she would go from constant contact, texting back and forth and hanging out every day, to completely disappearing from my life without a trace. The first time this happened, I found myself overcome by worry and unable to focus in my everyday life—certain that she was dead or dying. After that incident, this kind of behavior let me know almost immediately that she had relapsed, but I had no way to know how bad it was or if she needed my help. For example, there was a time when we had hung out multiple days in a row and made a list of summer plans that we wanted to experience together. This included simple things like flashlight tag all the way to making our own Halloween costumes. Then, the next day, when we had planned to go on a hike, I suddenly couldn’t get in contact with her. Fearing the worst, I kept calling and texting to no avail. Then, I suddenly got a call from her roommate who was out of town. She told me that she’d gotten a call from Amanda’s mom, and that Amanda was in danger and needed to go to the hospital. Immediately, I jumped into action and got a couple friends to drive me over to her apartment to check on her. We found her on the floor, refusing to talk or move. Ultimately, she was physically ok, but was mentally struggling. We got her food and water and then I spent the night at her house to make sure she stayed safe. The entire experience made me incredibly scared for my best friend and the seriousness of the disease she was facing. When she was ready, she checked herself in to in-patient care and utilized other programs meant to support addicts.

One of the most important things I learned from this cycle was the art of repair. When Amanda relapsed, she often did things that directly broke my trust or showed disrespect to our relationship. Because I cared for her and was beginning to understand the monster of addiction, I was always willing to be forgiving. However, we always took it a step further than that. After having hard conversations, we would set new boundaries in place to protect both me and our friendship during these situations. I’ve never gotten used to watching Amanda relapse, but I now have tools to more effectively deal with it and better support her in the process.

For example, it was not my responsibility to keep her from drinking. This meant that I would never feel at fault or responsible in any way for her relapses. I could support her and ask her if she thought it was a good idea, but ultimately she is an adult who can make her own decisions, even if they aren’t the best ones. Additionally, because of the trust built in our relationship, she felt safe to text and communicate with me even if she was not doing well. This allowed me to feel more comfortable with her safety, as we agreed she would keep me updated on her location even if she was relapsing. These and other agreements and boundaries led to much more freedom and trust in our relationship. This didn’t mean that things were easy. It still hurt every time I had to realize I couldn’t save my best friend from this disease, only she could and only when she was ready and equipped with the proper tools that would work for her.

Addiction has many faces. There isn’t a cure-all solution for everyone who suffers from it. Recovering from addiction is a process and a practice, not a cure. Everyone’s journey looks different and everyone needs tools specific to them to support that journey. Oftentimes, dealing with addiction means dealing with past trauma and other unhealthy behaviors that surround it. It isn’t easy; it takes incomprehensible amounts of work and determination. I admire addicts, anywhere they are on the road to recovery, because the strength that it takes to stand back up and try again is so much more than I could even imagine. I admire Amanda, because no matter how hard things get for her, she keeps trying and finding new and different ways to work on her recovery.

This relationship has taught me so many things—from healthy boundaries to good communication. But, the thing it has taught me most of all is the true meaning of unconditional love. Unconditional love involves boundaries and healthy communication. It does not say “I will love you no matter what you do and what you do to me” but instead “I will love you how I can, even in your darkness”.

 

Closing Words:

And in the end,

we were all just humans,

drunk on the idea that love,

only love,

could heal our brokenness.

~Chrisopher Poindexter