My brother overdosed on heroin this past week. Yes, he survived, this time. Narcan (naloxone) came to the rescue like a knight in shining armor and defeated the very thing we call death, in order to save his life. I am grateful for that. Truly, I am.
But now, I am also facing the reality that the very knight I love, the Narcan that swooped in and rescued him 4 times before this, may not be able to save him the next time. As sinister as it sounds, yes, I say the next time. I only expect what this disease offers.
No one has had more hope for him, than I. When I say that, I mean that. I was always on the sidelines of each rehab stint, calming and encouraging my family, saying things like “this time it will work”, “he is going to make it”, “he won’t die this way” and “don’t give up on him”. But, addiction is a tricky bastard. It sucks the life out of the one addicted and all who love them. In this case, I am the latter.
I can’t ever say I will fully give up hope for him. I have this belief, that belief itself is more powerful than the natural realm that encompasses us. I am careful about what I believe – specifically when it comes to my brother. But, at this point, I know what it’s like to imagine his death in a very realistic manner. It takes the breath right out of me. It wasn’t until this last overdose and the fentanyl going around that it finally hit me – he may actually die.
Writing that feels like peeling my own skin off.
I work in this field every single day and every single day there’s another RIP post. Loving an addict has tested me in every single way. When he went to rehab I felt like I was lifted up into heaven and experienced true joy. When he left early, I plummeted to the rocks below me, screaming, frustrated and absolutely demolished.
But, I have realized I have been living in almost a fantasy like state of mind. Never truly rationalizing the consequences of addiction- or where it will leave myself and my family if it decides to pour out its wrath upon my brother. Death and overdose are very real. I would know, I deal with families everyday who have lost their loved one to it. I can’t say in accepting the idea that he may not make it, has really done anything substantial enough for you to learn from, as I write this article. But, maybe in doing this, I can find an ounce of peace.
I have done absolutely all I can possibly do. Rehabs, moral support, treatment, counseling, detox, living with me, tough love, some enabling at points, stern talking to’s, interventions, deep talks and love. Nothing has worked. Not one thing.
Not exactly. I can acknowledge that yes, I have done everything I can and it has not worked. I can accept the fact that I may face the reality that he may die. I can learn to live with the pain of loving an addict and the implications of it.. But, it is not hopeless.
See, I’ve rationalized it like this. I will always be the one that holds out hope for him. Even if one day he does overdose and die, I will not feel foolish for hoping. I will never feel foolish for hoping. Hope keeps people alive. It kept me alive when I was in active addiction and overdosing in a parking lot. Maybe consciously I did not know someone else was holding hope for me, but my spirit knew it. That’s why I am here. Someone or something held out hope for me, so much so, that I caught the bug of hope, myself.
That’s why I will never give up hope. Yes, I am at the edge of the “hope cliff” almost ready to fall off, but something keeps me bordering the very chipped edge below.. and that is my brother.
I know what it’s like to have no hope. To live everyday believing that there is nothing more than death for me. To be void of all joy and fulfillment. To feel hopeless. I know this is how he feels, deep down inside, aside from all of the lies and deception and the I’m doing good’s.
But, I want him to see hope, every time he looks into my eyes. I want him to feel hope every time he hears me speak. I want him to visualize something better, every time I try to build him up. It’s what I needed, so desperately. It’s what he needs, so desperately.
Whether this is ever discussed between him and I (and it probably never will be), I will know that my hope in fact, makes a difference. I believe that. And the power of belief trumps the naysayers, to me.
Yes, it’s true he overdosed last week. Yes, it could be that he overdoses again. Yes, it could be that I may have to bury my brother. Yes, I am broken, drained and exhausted. But no, I won’t give up my hope for him. Sometimes that is literally the only thing I can control.
Need addiction Help?
Our online community helps men and women suffering from drug and heroin addiction who are sick and tired of being slaves to addiction get the help and treatment they want, need and deserve. For those ready for a chance, fill out our brief treatment contact form.
Written by Chanda Lynn, Blogger/Writer for Kill the Heroin Epidemic Nationwide™, Heroin News and the National Alliance of Addiction Treatment Centers (NAATC)
Edited and Published By William Charles, Founder/Publisher
We are a community for recovering heroin addicts providing support and recommending the best treatments and clinics to people interested in conquering their addiction.
#heroinoverdose #drugoverdose #Narcan #naloxone #drugaddiction #hopeless #hopelessaddict #drugrehab #addictionhelp #addictiontreatment #addictiontreatmentcenter