One week from today, I will be giving my second speech ... second as an adult, and second in this new journey of addiction recovery for our family. The next one will contain portions of this one, because I believe the history is important, but, God willing, will have new insight to our journey as well.
I thought today I would publish the written version of that first speech ... for those that wish to "hear" for the first time, to refresh if you heard it locally, or to pass on to someone that may benefit from reading it. Those that prefer can watch the video at: https://youtu.be/zp-bOELBgmk.
If you're local and would like to attend the next event, it is scheduled to be held on Wednesday, March 22nd in the auditorium at Lowville Academy at 7 pm. Other speakers include presenter Mitch Robinson, Lewis County District Attorney Leanne Moser, and a member of the Lowville Police Department. We all thank you for your support.
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Many
of you already know me but for those that don’t, my name is Erika Smith. I’m a life-long resident of Lewis County,
most of that in Croghan, and a 1991 graduate of Beaver River. I have been married to Bruce for over 25
years and we have 3 precious children: our
girls, Reganne, 19, Peyton, 14, and our son, Cameron, in the middle at 16. I’ve had several secretarial jobs, but for
the past 9 years I have worked for Dr. Lyndaker and Dr. Palmer at Lowville
Medical Associates.
When
I found out about this evening’s event, I timidly offered some assistance to
Julie through a Facebook chat. My exact
words were: “I’m a little frightened to
offer this, but let me know what I might be able to do to help.” Not good.
After a few polite sentences back and forth she wrote “Would you
speak?” Yup. Time to step away from the computer, Erika. I did not.
Even worse. Eventually, after a
sad attempt at some humor, I replied, “That just escalated from ‘a little
frightened’ to drop-dead terrifying!”
Do
you all know, Julie? Well, here I stand. (Though, bless her heart, she did get Mitch
to let me sit in the audience instead of up on stage.) I am not a public speaker. I’m not even a private speaker. I find conversations very difficult and
usually think of “the right” thing to say long after a conversation has
ended. So if I walk away from this speaking
something coherent, you will have witnessed a miracle straight from God.
Please
know that I am not an expert in anything related to drug or alcohol abuse. But I am the wife of an alcoholic and the
mother of three children that I pray will not be and what I can speak of is my
experience.
Maya Angelou said, “There’s no greater agony than bearing an untold story
inside you.” So I am here to tell our story
hoping that one person can be helped by it in some small way. Because that is the only reason I can think
of for us to have had to endure the hell we have… so that we can help others
through the same.
The
Cliff Notes version of our story: Alcohol
addiction nearly destroyed our “perfect” family. It didn’t happen overnight and we never saw
it coming, but somehow we ended up right in the middle of it.
The small group that I am involved with
through our church recently did a study last fall titled “Guardrails” by Andy
Stanley. His challenge is for us to stop flirting with disaster and establish some
personal guardrails. We are all familiar
with the guardrails along the road. They
are placed there to direct and protect us as we travel in our vehicles. He equates those physical guardrails to those
that we all have in our personal lives, whether they were put there
intentionally or not.
Personally or morally, we have lines that we “draw” and intend not to
cross. This is a personal guardrail. We create the line to protect ourselves
against harm. On occasion we bump into
these guardrails but recognize that fact and redirect our path to a safer
area. Other times, we ignore the guardrail
and careen through and down a dangerous cliff.
Sometimes we survive. Sometimes
we do not.
My
out-of state cousin remembers asking me when I was in junior high what the big
problems were at Beaver River.
Apparently, I told her it was alcohol.
I don’t recall the conversation at all.
Ironic how that all came back around.
I know there were lessons in high school health class about substance
abuse. I paid attention. I listened.
But it didn’t think it pertained to me.
I was safe. And if I was safe, my
kids must be safe, right?
Bruce
and I come from great Christian families.
Neither of us had any childhood traumas.
Both sets of parents and all four sets of grandparents never divorced
and nine of those twelve people were alive to hold all three of our children …
six of them still are. Bruce’s parents
never drink and mine do only on special occasions. Neither one of us was offered drugs of any
kind in high school, not even a cigarette, and to this day, I have not even
laid eyes on any illegal drugs. (Yes,
I’ve lived a very sheltered life in that way and I’m totally OK with
that.) I was allowed sips of wine at the
family table while growing up, but had more fun running my fingers along the
edge of the wine glass to make music. My
first and last “real” underage drinking was at friend’s party when I was
15. I remember her mother sitting in the
kitchen where the alcohol was and though I don’t recall who handed it to me, I
know her mom was the one that purchased
it for us. I drank half of that wine
cooler and still feel guilty! (If you’re
here, Mom … I’m sorry. You’ve probably
not heard that before.) I’ve never been
drunk. As an adult, I don’t know that
I’ve ever had more than 2 glasses of wine or a mixed drink at any given
event. We were never party go-ers. When we did choose to go to one of my class’s
graduation parties up in Belfort (surprise, surprise!), we stayed for only
about an hour because neither one of us was comfortable there. We were a safe couple. Nothing at all to worry about! Our kids will be just fine!
After
a dozen or so years of marriage, though, I came to the frightening realization
that my husband was an alcoholic. I
can’t recall one time in the three years that we dated where I witnessed him
drink and I can only recall two times in the next seven years or so that I saw
him drunk. But sometime after that
things changed. Life changed. I didn’t notice at first – I was too busy. When I did notice, I chose to ignore it for a
long time. It will get better. Only it didn’t. And then, when I couldn’t ignore it any
longer, things were completely out of control.
We
went from that “perfect family” to a non-existent one. Bruce stopped being the husband and parent
that we needed him to be and I doubled-up on responsibilities and overdosed on
stress and worry. We did very limited
things together as a family. The few vacations
that we attempted did not create the special memories that one would expect. Family functions usually pushed me over the
edge. It was a rare occasion to go out
or have friends over. Leaving the kids home
without me became impossible. Bruce
stopped going to church and I made the decision to change churches.
At
home, we distanced ourselves from each other.
We walked on eggshells and stopped communicating. We stopped having fun. The kids had fewer and fewer friends
over. Financially we were a mess. At the worst of it, we were even subjected to
a CPS investigation. Trust me, this is
not something you want to go through.
I’ve never felt such humiliation and fear as I did during that period of
time.
At
home, it was like we lived with two Bruce’s … the sober one and the drunk one. Most days, you never knew who you were going
to get and coming home at the end of the school day for the kids and the work
day for me was not usually something to look forward to. It eventually got bad enough that, I admit sadly,
I was often relieved when his car was not in the driveway when I got there.
We
… and I say we, because I was as much to blame as Bruce … we put on those masks
of happiness, wore them well, and no one was the wiser for a long time. Not our friends, not our co-workers, not our
family, or our parents. We even hid much
of it from the kids … at least, it seemed that way at the time. When people did find out, most had a very
hard time believing and accepting the truth.
Much of that was due to the fact that Bruce almost always drank in
isolation. He rarely drank in public
except when he was DJing. Stephen King wrote:
“We’re only as sick as our secrets.” Well, we were really, really sick.
Bruce
eventually lost his teaching job and, in a way, we all lost “home”. I had this view of Beaver River as our home
away from home since we were in Kindergarten.
We each spent 13 years here.
Shortly after college and marriage, he began teaching here and I would
spend hours helping in his classrooms. Eventually
the kids came along and you all know how much time can be spent here in that
line of work! In various ways, we’ve
walked in and out of this building on a daily basis for the past 40 years. Beaver River was our community. When his alcoholism finally became public, I
was amazed at the response from that community in particular. There were some faculty and staff that
wrapped us in their arms and loved us in various practical ways. I am so very thankful for them. They were a vital part of our survival. But there were others that didn’t. There were some that I thought were close to
us that have come to barely speak to us, even today. I haven’t decided if it was a “better than
you” mentality or if it was just fear, but I’m finding myself agreeing with this
quote I recently read: “If you’re struggling and your people are just sitting there
watching you struggle … they’re not your people.” We kept a great number of our people
though this fight with alcoholism, some of you are here tonight, but we had to learn
to get new people, too.
At
some point in the fight, I realized that I may not be able to save Bruce, but I
may be able to save myself and my children.
I had to be as honest as I could:
first with myself, then with them, and then with those around us. I had a very difficult time telling them what
was going on because I wanted to keep them as innocent as I could, but I had to
learn that I could tell them the scary facts without scarring them for life. They know that they are the children of an
alcoholic, an addict. They know that
they are at risk of becoming the same if they make the wrong choices when trying
to cope with the tiny to overwhelming stressors in their lives. They know this because I stopped being afraid
and I began being a better parent.
Not
one of you is immune from addiction. I
wish that wasn’t true. But it is. It may not be in your immediate family right
now, but I am certain that you know other family members or friends that are
affected. Most of you know us. That’s a start. You have to know that this can happen to your
kids or your spouse or your best friend or even yourself. But it doesn’t have to.
If
you’re here, you’ve already taken a step toward helping deal with this
epidemic. I’ve been told that
information is power. It’s just up to
you what you do with it. But admitting
there is an issue and putting your fears aside to deal with it certainly is a
great beginning. There are several other
things that can help as well.
As parents, our job is to establish some guardrails, or
guidelines, for our children until they are able to erect their own. When they are toddlers, most of us teach our
children not to throw food on the floor or not to bite their siblings or not to
say bad words or not to run out into the street after a ball. As they get older we may teach them to help
others or respect their teachers or to be diligent in their school work. It’s in our job description, right?
We are supposed to be a parent. We are supposed to be our children’s’ instructor,
their moral compass, their guide, their nurse, their judge and jury at times,
their confidant at others. We are
supposed to be their rock.
We are not, however, supposed to be their friend. We get stuck there sometimes. We just want them to like us. We want them to be happy. We want them to have more than what we
had. We bend, we bow, we buy, we
negotiate, but hopefully, before it’s too late, we figure out that these things
are not what they really need.
Start
TALKING if you haven’t. Talk about work
and school and friends and finances and the dog and that project that needs
finishing and worries and dreams and joys and fears. LISTEN to what your spouse or children are
telling you. Converse over dinner chores
and in the car. Turn the distractions
off. Be still and really hear what they
are saying. Don’t think about your
response. Just HEAR them. And please stay CALM. They may say something you do not want to
hear and certainly don’t want to think about or admit to. Don’t get upset. Don’t yell. Don’t judge.
Just LOVE them. Whatever is going
on … the good, the bad, the ugly … for better or for worse ... don’t stop listening
or loving.
One
of the hard parts about loving is rules and boundaries. MAKE them.
KEEP them. Always. This is much more difficult to do as a spouse
than a parent. You married your spouse
intending to be partners. This is a fine
line I am still learning to navigate.
But as a parent, please make these rules and boundaries … these
guardrails, if you will.
If
you’re suspicious of drugs or alcohol or pornography, go through their
room. You pay the mortgage or rent,
right? Probably bought the
furniture? And maybe even most of the
stuff you’re walking on all over the floor?
Stop wondering and GO LOOK! Worst
case scenario – you stumble across a stash.
So now that you know, deal with it.
Don’t ignore it! Best case
scenario – you don’t find anything other than moldy dishes and dirty underwear
and, though your chore list just got longer, your fears are relieved.
If
you suspect that they are in trouble online or with their phone, install some
safety software and create passwords.
Write down their personal passwords and update them frequently. Yes, I’ve done this. My kids throw a fit, but I pay the bill. And even if I didn’t, isn’t it worth it to
save my child or someone else’s? I’m not
really concerned about violating their privacy.
I’m not in law enforcement, but I’m willing to bet that I won’t be arrested
for checking my child’s e-mail or texts or internet history if I’m truly trying
to protect them. And if I am, so be it.
I
am not suggesting you go overboard. Please
don’t ask your child to hand over their phone every time they walk through the
door or hover over their shoulder when they are gaming online. But set the boundaries and make them clear so
they know what to expect. You want them
to be able to trust you and not to feel like you don’t trust them every waking
moment. Explain to them that you are not
doing these things to hurt them or just spy for your own entertainment. Remember when they were babies and you used
to tiptoe over to the crib to be sure they were still breathing? Checking their room or their book bag or
their phone is just the way you have to check on them now … just as you have
since the day they were born … in order to do everything in your parental power
to keep them safe.
I
do not want an officer to escort me into the morgue one day to ID my child and
then clean out his or her bedroom a month later only to find all the evidence I
would have needed to save them.
This
may shock you, but in our home, there are no TVs or computers in any of the
bedrooms. And my children (and husband)
are still alive! Shocker! We have several computers and televisions in
the common areas of the house and laptops that can travel. This makes it much easier for me as a parent
to monitor and much more difficult for any of us to surf into dangerous
areas. Remember the telephones with the
cords? I wonder how many cords my
parents had to replace because I stretched them so much in order to get out of ear
shot for my 10 minute or less phone calls. Not such a bad idea, now that you have kids to
worry about, right? Same concept. It’s certainly not foolproof, but it’s just
another guardrail.
I
also have a rule that all electronics are turned off at 10 pm. This doesn’t always include the TV,
especially on weekends, but there is no reason for any of us to be up all night
gaming or computing or texting or surfing and not getting the rest we should be. (This is definitely a little harder to
negotiate if you’ve married a night owl … like me … just one of those things I
need to agree to disagree on.) As for
the kids? They are old enough to stay up
pretty much as long as they want … if they are reading a book or doing homework
or sometimes even for a movie binge, but they will most definitely be getting
up for school or church on time.
Ooo. She said church. If you go, and personally, I think you
should, TAKE YOUR KIDS! If they were out
late with a friend the night before remind them that’s what Sunday afternoon naps
are for. Don’t let them make
excuses. Do the hard thing. Be the parent! Make them go!
However
… insert public service announcement here:
PLEASE let them stay home if they truly are sick. You know when that is. This germaphobe, the school nurses, and the
pediatricians thank you!
Another
disclaimer: Even if you are the perfect
parent, raising the perfect child, things happen. At some point, they may tear down your
guardrails and put up their own … or not have any at all. They may completely go against every good
thing you’ve ever taught them. They may
eventually get into trouble … little trouble … big trouble. God help us, it happens. Don’t feel that you have to rescue them. If they get detention in school, I’m guessing
it was for breaking a school rule. This
may not be YOUR rule, but a rule none-the-less.
Just like that traffic ticket you’ve received? Yeah, that.
We all have rules and laws to live by.
And we all need to face the consequences. Let your kids face theirs. There is a bigger world out there than these
four walls. One detention for wearing a short skirt that she shouldn’t have
been wearing in the first place (you do get the school code of conduct every
September), is not going to hurt her, just her pride … and maybe yours. You’ll both get through it. And be better for it in the end.
If
it’s your spouse that careens over those guardrails, things can get really,
really, really hard. First and foremost,
you have to protect yourself and your children.
You’ll likely need counseling, together or separately. Do it.
You may need to live separately for a time. If so, do that, too. Separation doesn’t always have to lead to
divorce. But it can give you each the
space you need to figure out how to move forward from the ugly space you are in,
hopefully together. You will need to be
very, very patient. Even when you don’t
want to be. You will need “go learn things”,
as one of my favorite TV characters likes to say. You will need to change yourself while
remembering that you cannot change your spouse.
And you will need to repeat those things over and over and over
again. But if you’re willing to put in
the hard work, things will get better. Show
your kids that bad things can be made good again. Show them that even though giving up may be
the easy thing to do, it may not always be the right thing to do. Things may not work out the way you plan on or
hope for, but you will be OK knowing that you did the best you could in trying
to do the best you could.
Personally,
I also needed to learn a better art of loving and forgiveness. It hurts me to say this, but did not like
Bruce much of the time that he was drinking.
I did, however, make the choice every day to love him and forgive him. Repeatedly.
It was so much easier to be sad or angry … and I was so very sad and
angry - sometimes I still am. But it is so
very difficult to love and forgive. It
takes a lot of work and a whole lot more patience. But not doing so and holding onto those
negative feelings just hurt me more than it hurt him. So I made a conscious decision to love him
anyway … even when he drank and turned into someone that rubbed my emotions raw. I loved and I forgave … over and over and
over again. Forgiveness doesn’t excuse
the action, but it does stop the action from destroying your heart.
Today,
after several years that included six rehabs and a gazillion meetings with
counselors, AA groups, and a judge, I’m able to say that Bruce has been sober
for 12 months and 12 days. Last week, he
invited me to his AA meeting where he was presented with his one year
coin. It has been such a long road from
there to here and I never thought that we’d see the end of. In reality, though, I know we haven’t. We will live with alcoholism forever. I can only pray that the most painful part of
the journey is over and we can now begin to rebuild and restore and move
forward. I’m proud of him for finally deciding
to take this road of recovery. Bruce,
I’m sorry that I haven’t told you that enough.
But I am so proud of you and grateful for each day of your recovery.
The
last thing I would like to share is that no matter how you feel, you are not
alone. Alone is all I felt for so
many years. Most of it was of my own
making. I rarely opened up or reached
out and I will tell you that that is just a perfect recipe for failure. Let me read something I saw in a blog
recently: “Sadly, we tend to share
the highlights of our lives far more quickly than the low points or if we share
our difficulties, we hide critical aspects of our story. [My] Research indicates that we are
frightened of sharing the challenges we are facing, tending to withdraw and
isolate. This isolation, of course, intensifies our problems. I’ve found that we have opposing feelings—the
fear of being exposed and vulnerable, people finding out about all our
warts—and the intense desire to expose ourselves and allow others to see us for
who we are and show us kindness and acceptance. This inner battle adds to our
tension and anxiety.”
I personally
believe that isolation is one of the biggest reasons our family ended up in
this disease called alcoholism. Bruce
isolated. I isolated. And we unknowingly taught the kids to isolate. That being said, my advice to you is this: find a good friend, a pastor, a counselor, a
small group, an AA or NA meeting … anyone that will listen without judging …
anyone that will offer you hope and encouragement … anyone that will just plain hold you together
when you feel like you’re falling apart.
You
are stronger than you think. You can get
through this. Be brave. And tell your story: There is nothing small about it when you tell
the broken and the beautiful truth about your life. Don’t be ashamed … if for no other reason
than to save yourself and to give others the hope they so desperately need.
