Thanks for sharing your story and for giving voice to what many of us with loved ones dealing with addiction know: toxic hope kills the soul. One of the ways I've made peace with my brother, who also suffers from severe addiction and mental illness, is to accept that things might not get better--at least in this lifetime. I know it might sound hopeless, but acceptance frees me from the boulder of wishing things were different or waiting for the day when his life turns around. I truly hope your brother does, for his sake and everyone else's, but regardless of the outcome, please know that I'm standing in solidarity with you and giving you permission compassionately accept whatever you must to find peace amid this turmoil.
I'm sorry you're dealing with this painful situation, and I am similarly skeptical when told to "never give up hope." Just tell me the truth, I want to yell. Wishing sobriety for your brother and peace of mind for you.
I've been thinking of you, Joy, and I'm glad to hear some good news about your brother. There's a lot of what you said here that overlaps with my experience with suicide grief, and I'm so sorry for us both. My brother's death anniversary is this Friday, and I'm bracing; it will have been ten years. I'm glad you've found a digital community that is helpful to you, and I'm also glad to have connected with you here on Substack. ❤️ Much love, Katrina
I'm so sorry for what you're going through and wish I didn't relate so much. Our culture loves to push us to always do more, carry hope, MAKE the change happen. But the powerlessness is true.
As someone who's lost one brother to addiction and seen my other brother get sober, all I can say is that, I could actually sense a shift in my sober brother before his last trip to rehab. I don't know if that's a common occurrence, but for the first time, I felt like he got it. That's not to say he never relapsed, but finally he's out of danger. He's doing well for him, which is still not living as healthily as I'd like, but it has gotten better.
Thinking of your family and hoping for peace for y'all.
I'm glad your brother got himself checked in somewhere Joy. I know that feeling of relief that at least you know he's alive and safe for the moment, maybe holding onto some hope, but also needing to guard yourself from being TOO hopeful. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy honestly. I identify with so many parts of what you shared here...it's almost overwhelming because I could write you a book with all the things that feel familiar and all the memories that come up! But what I really want to share is that I was also working on an essay today about holding hope through a loved one's addiction, strangely enough. I was writing about how, even though my husband's been sober for awhile now, it feels really vulnerable to tell people that I do have hope, and I do trust that he is sober at the moment. It feels dangerous to hope, but also necessary for moving through the trauma of it all. Obviously we are speaking from different parts of the experience, but I really appreciated this reminder that when you are still in the relapse cycle, hope has a different feel. And it certainly feels more challenging to hear other people reminding you over and over that recovery is possible. So thank you for sharing today. And I hope you can...rest? feel peaceful? whatever it is that you most need right now.
I'm so glad this resonated! I'm heartened to hear you have hope right now. And yes, I've realized inpatient treatment is as much for loved ones as is it for the person with addiction, as it gives everyone a breather.
Thanks for sharing your story and for giving voice to what many of us with loved ones dealing with addiction know: toxic hope kills the soul. One of the ways I've made peace with my brother, who also suffers from severe addiction and mental illness, is to accept that things might not get better--at least in this lifetime. I know it might sound hopeless, but acceptance frees me from the boulder of wishing things were different or waiting for the day when his life turns around. I truly hope your brother does, for his sake and everyone else's, but regardless of the outcome, please know that I'm standing in solidarity with you and giving you permission compassionately accept whatever you must to find peace amid this turmoil.
Thank you so much. I’ve been working hard on accepting it, but so tricky.
It always is.
I'm sorry you're dealing with this painful situation, and I am similarly skeptical when told to "never give up hope." Just tell me the truth, I want to yell. Wishing sobriety for your brother and peace of mind for you.
Thank you!
I've been thinking of you, Joy, and I'm glad to hear some good news about your brother. There's a lot of what you said here that overlaps with my experience with suicide grief, and I'm so sorry for us both. My brother's death anniversary is this Friday, and I'm bracing; it will have been ten years. I'm glad you've found a digital community that is helpful to you, and I'm also glad to have connected with you here on Substack. ❤️ Much love, Katrina
Thank you! If you haven't seen it already, you might also be interested in this piece by memoir coach Lisa Ellison: https://lisacooperellison.substack.com/p/suicide-grief-and-the-writers-mind
Just read it. Thank you so much, Joy. I needed that!
I so relate to this, Joy. I wish you peace of mind as your brother's struggles continue. ♥️
I'm so sorry for what you're going through and wish I didn't relate so much. Our culture loves to push us to always do more, carry hope, MAKE the change happen. But the powerlessness is true.
As someone who's lost one brother to addiction and seen my other brother get sober, all I can say is that, I could actually sense a shift in my sober brother before his last trip to rehab. I don't know if that's a common occurrence, but for the first time, I felt like he got it. That's not to say he never relapsed, but finally he's out of danger. He's doing well for him, which is still not living as healthily as I'd like, but it has gotten better.
Thinking of your family and hoping for peace for y'all.
Thank you so much. I keep hoping for that mindset shift.
I'm glad your brother got himself checked in somewhere Joy. I know that feeling of relief that at least you know he's alive and safe for the moment, maybe holding onto some hope, but also needing to guard yourself from being TOO hopeful. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy honestly. I identify with so many parts of what you shared here...it's almost overwhelming because I could write you a book with all the things that feel familiar and all the memories that come up! But what I really want to share is that I was also working on an essay today about holding hope through a loved one's addiction, strangely enough. I was writing about how, even though my husband's been sober for awhile now, it feels really vulnerable to tell people that I do have hope, and I do trust that he is sober at the moment. It feels dangerous to hope, but also necessary for moving through the trauma of it all. Obviously we are speaking from different parts of the experience, but I really appreciated this reminder that when you are still in the relapse cycle, hope has a different feel. And it certainly feels more challenging to hear other people reminding you over and over that recovery is possible. So thank you for sharing today. And I hope you can...rest? feel peaceful? whatever it is that you most need right now.
I'm so glad this resonated! I'm heartened to hear you have hope right now. And yes, I've realized inpatient treatment is as much for loved ones as is it for the person with addiction, as it gives everyone a breather.