MOOM

‘ Lane day ‘

A path trodden in the lawn led to the silver , glistening through the fence gaps. I caught it in the corner of my eye each time I boiled the kettle , each time I rolled a cigarette.

How many cups of coffee will I make until I confirm the Magpies are not leaving me a bunch of silver as some thoughtful ‘reward’ ?

Too many hours of reading stories of “ loved ones of an addict” and “ my battle with addiction” on forums , and as many facts as I could gather in preparation for what my gut already knew to be what I’d find on the day we now name , ‘ Lane Day’. I chose to live it alone.

No more denial , out to the lane I went . I walked on the foot trodden path , past my blueberry bush and clunked the gate lock.

I stopped , I faced the silver head on and I JUST stared .As I’m sure you’d guessed by now ,the silver was a mound of used tin foil. No silver and jewels for me. Thanks Magpies , I saluted you every day.

The denial and avoidance was the force of a strong current of waves from my gut , through the heart and up to my mind, processing. Emotions waved back and forth inside whilst outside I was still , staring , no acknowledgement to the calm before the storm . The waves settled , my gut , heart and mind came into sync. I walked back to the kitchen , picked up a glass tumbler and with a final, heavy wave of emotion I threw the glass, it smashed on the floor . “ He was using heroin .”

My heart and my decisions shattered on the floor , the reflections of the glass shards seemingly laughing at me.

It took a good couple of days of me remaining calm and as if nothing were different. I had to choose the right time to approach him . It was all about the timing for me . I had to think of myself and think of him. What would he do ?

He was sat enveloped by the sofa after a day at work but still smiling . I remember envying how happy he looked all the time , knowing how unhappy he must be.

Here’s my moment . I gently put my hand out to him and said ‘ C’mon , lets tidy the lane together ‘ .

‘What ?’ he replied . I repeated myself and calmly looked him in the eye and said , ‘ Its okay’.

He took my hand and walked with me , past the trodden path , past the blueberry bush , clunking the lock.

He stared the silver in the eye and stood frozen watching me collect them in a carrier bag. I was expecting tears, there was none. Lies , none . Outrage , none . It was a relief . Instead he was silent. I emptied the bag on the kitchen counter and I felt his shame radiating almost from each piece of foil strip . That day he stopped and he has never looked back to heroin .

So, what was the correct action to take ?What would you have done ? There were so many things to consider. Do I tell his family ? Should I have left? Was I addicted to him ?I was in love. Would I have invested as much emotion with anyone else ?

“but I chose to live it alone” – I do not recommend this . I was already living my own story worthy of a forum I’m sure.

Do we only have the option to leave and shut the door? I agree it is no good to be an enabler . To get him to trust a drug service/ professionals was one of the hardest jobs , that’s for later .

If you have never used / been addicted to drugs how could anyone understand , and he knew that . I was that person. I’d not taken drugs, though I had experimented with cannabis. In fact the one time I tried cannabis , I was 16 and it was at his house party.

How would anyone understand my choice to support ? Did they have to?

That was his power , his justification. Only another person who has experienced substance misuse can understand . Only another person who’d survived a Thai prison and a Hungarian prison understands sharing a room with 52 other inmates. How do you understand the pain and fear he must have endured with every prison anecdote reeled off ? How does he laugh at every one ? They made me cry. It made me cry that he was laughing , it seemed normalised.

I tried to understand , unfortunately the judgement I faced from others , the judgement he faced was deflating to say the least . It forced me to face it alone .

In those times all I could do was try to understand why people found it so hard to be kind, empathetic and non – judgemental . It goes without saying, everyone is responsible for their own actions and it’s not expected of people to understand , nor should they have to . Kindness is a huge topic for me . To be kind can be very lonely , don’t you think ?

I started to at least understand how cruel and unkind the world could be and how everyone can forget that a heroin user is a person , someone’s family member , someone with talents they’ve forgotten , good qualities they don’t think they have. He judged himself more than any other person.

I am not by any means suggesting that people addicted to any other substances or heroin is a justification for any person’s crimes or wrong doings. I do however , find that most heroin users seem to be tarred with the same brush though or that simply their crimes are documented.

Now I can tell you what he was thinking when I asked him to clean the lane with me . “ There must be a dead cat out there or something “.

You see he hadn’t even realised the foil was in the lane . After his quick fix he’d throw the foil , assuming in his ecstatic state that it had landed near the brook . He hadn’t trodden a path . I had simply made 2 + 2 equal 5.

Looking for signs can lead your brain to think everything is a sign , at least that’s what happened with me . On reflection this type of thought pattern then caused me to become paranoid, almost like I had formed a new thought pattern. Of course, I do not have any medical background , I just am a very curious person and wonder if this could have been a contributor?

So again , what would you have done?

As I wrote above , it was ;

‘the calm before the storm‘ – later would come everything , more anecdotes of time spent in prison , introduction to drugs and childhood , all spilled out . I have never heard so many , sad , sometimes fascinating stories I only imagined in a movie be so normalised by a person .

All of his behaviours made more sense than they ever had before. The shame bucket overflowed into everything , impacting everyone. The pressure he put on himself to be anything BUT who he was , was at times unbearable to watch and hear , even to know how to respond or connect to. Irony is , I’d recognised this from the first day i ever met him , call it intution, maybe on some deeper level I resonated. Perhaps the only reason I gave him a chance 20 years down the line – I could see past his persona – he was always trying to be someone he wasn’t. Twenty years on – it seemed he didn’t even know who he was .

It’s a few years on since lane day . The amount of hiding from other people’s judgements ( and hearing them ) has taken its toll on my mental health , now I find myself in recovery for my well-being. I hope blogging will help me , if anyone else can resonate , my heart goes out to you.

Thanks for reading

A little alone time with crafts helps me to stay grounded and reflect on my strengths , work on something to get better. Whether it be carefully placing buttons and paper , letting the paintbrush go where my mind wants it to go or simply kneading some clay . Thanks Pinterest community !