A while back I woke up early one morning to write, opened my inbox and found a letter from Maggie. Maggie had just lost her beloved sister to addiction.
This is what I wrote I back to her:
Dearest Maggie,
It could have gone either way, you know.
My drinking and drugging and binging and lying and hiding and running were so severe, for so very long. Statistically, I should be dead, dead, dead this morning. Do you know that I force myself to watch that brutal show Intervention so I don’t forget how close I am to the edge each and every moment? How exactly the SAME I am as those lost precious sinking souls on that show?
Maggie, do you know that I really, really, very much miss drinking? That it’s so hard to live in my intense and jumpy and pounding heart and swimming head without anything to take that edge off? Do you know that I take lots of medication to keep me from flirting too closely to that edge? And even with the meds, that edge is where I have to live. Knowing it’s there, but keeping my back turned to it. No turning towards it. No peeking over. No dangling my toes off it. The edge, for me, means death. Not for just my body anymore but for a soul and a family and a blog and a voice and a revolution. God gave me a lot so I’d have a lot to throw away. So it’d all be too hard to throw away, maybe. I don’t know why the Universe did that for me. I don’t know why most of us can’t keep ourselves from jumping over that edge. Even with all we have to lose. The urge to jump is stronger than the urge to stay planted. I’ll stay planted. I know this. And still.
I so miss the other side. I feel so sad that I’ll never again curl up with a glass of wine and get overly giggly with a new friend. Or be able to stay out past ten and get wild and make stupid fuzzy memories with old friends. Or have two mixed drinks and get all lovey-dovey and loosie-goosie and have that different kind of sex with Craig that happens after two mixed drinks. I miss drugs. I miss halter tops and platform shoes and bars and flirting and dancing wildly. God, I miss beer. A couple Coronas with lime? Forget about it. I miss being able to turn off my brain. It’s so tiring to live without that option. It’s so very, very exhausting. Of course, all those things I miss – they are not real for me. They are like someone missing milk even though she is allergic to it. You can go ahead and have some ice cream since everyone else seems to be enjoying it- but don’t forget that the third bite’ll kill you. The truth is that I never had “a couple Coronas” in my life. Eight Coronas, maybe. Five pills. Twelve lines. Three nights in jail. One Hospitalization. It goes like that for me. IT GOES LIKE THAT FOR ME. REPEAT. REPEAT, GLENNON, REPEAT.
For you, Glennon, it’s not like the Skinny Girl Margarita commercials. Wine in the morning is not cute, the way Hoda and Kathie try to suggest it is. It’s not cute. And they should cut that shit out, by the way. It’s patronizing and offensive to those of us who have really been there, with our trembling hands and our bottles of wine at ten am. We’re on our knees in our kitchens, Hoda and Kathie – and we don’t use fancy glasses. Not at ten a.m. We don’t have makeup on either. And we’re not giggling. We hide and we tremble and we cry and we drink straight from the bottle.
Maggie – Do you know that once in a blue moon, bulimia pops into my life again like a terrifying jack in the box? About once a year, I’m home alone, and I get lonely and twitchy. And I start eating and eating and eating. And I feel too full. I am not fat, Maggie. It’s not about that. I’m actually sickly skinny right now because of my Lyme and parasites. But still – I am compelled to throw up. Compelled – like I’m a puppet and someone else is pulling the strings. Even now. And as I’m hanging over the toilet and seeing stars from my-self inflicted electrolyte imbalance I think– I am going to be so pissed if I die right now. It will be so sad. My kids will lose me. My family will think I never got better. They’ll think I was a fraud. And crap, the kitchen is such a mess. But I still do it. I still throw up. Isn’t that crazy? Craig doesn’t know this. My parents don’t know this. Well, till now. But I needed you to know, Maggie.
And still I would insist to you that I am getting well. Well is not black and white or forever and ever amen. It’s not. Well is a long, forever continuum. I’m not sure we ever exorcise our demons completely. And so when my bulimia pops up, I never feel mad at myself. NEVER. Shame takes us closer to that edge than any single binge will. NO. Life is hard and I’m doing the best I can. So I just take inventory and love myself something FIERCE and then start over. Every single moment I am someone brand new.
Maggie, sometimes I go to a party and the first thing a friend says is, “G! Don’t drink that. It’s full of vodka.” And I always think — DAMNIT. DAMNIT. Is it too much to ask to just once “accidentally” drink six glasses before I “notice?” Wouldn’t that be such a funny and awesome mistake? Just once?
I’m so scared of parties, Maggie. I want to be invited to them, but I’m scared. I don’t know what to say when someone offers me a drink. People want to know why not? I don’t want to make people uncomfortable. I don’t want them to think I don’t drink as some sort of moral statement. Sweet Jesus, no. But, no thank you, I’m a recovering alcoholic is SUCH a major party buzz kill. And then kind people don’t know if they should be drinking around me. And it all gets so uncomfortable. A big old mess. Just trust me. It’s not as easy as – no thank you. It’s not.
Lots of times we haven’t been invited to parties because people don’t know how to handle the drinking issue. And I understand, but it stings. I don’t really even want to go, but I really want to be invited. I’m usually great fun till about 8:00. Then I have to go home. Because people get loud and loose and Craig’s eyes start shining and he starts to have FUN. And I feel left out and very lonely. And tired.
Sobriety feels really lonely sometimes. To tell you the damn truth- it feels lonelier than addiction did to me. Granted, I felt nothing much during my addicted years.
I meant to write about something else today. But I woke up this morning and found three messages from Monkees who have recently lost their lobsters to addiction. And it kills me that I have nothing to say – nothing to help make sense of it. I can’t answer their question . . . why did YOU make it and my Lobster didn’t? I tried as hard as your Sister did.
Jesus, that kills me.
If I could choose one super power, it would be the ability to reach into my computer and pull the writers of those emails through my screen and into my living room. I would make two very strong cups of coffee and we would sit on my living room couch for hours and we would talk about your Lobster and cry and we would laugh, too. And you would understand that there is NOTHING, nothing we did righter than you or you did wrong-er than us. Life is just freaking crazy. Just totally freaking crazy. And you would understand that there was no magic wand that you were forbidden access to and that actually, I’m not all better. I’m just like your Lobster. Just exactly, exactly like your Lobster. But I’m here and she’s there. And that’s so unfair.
I’m so sorry, Maggie. I’m so sorry.
Robert Frost said “In three words I can sum up everything I know about life: It goes on.” I think he meant that it goes on for you, Maggie, here. And he also meant that it goes on for your Lobster, Somewhere Else. I really, truly, deeply know that to be true. I don’t know what Somewhere Else looks like but I believe in it, and if you don’t – then I’ll believe harder for the both of us. Maggie, this place is too hard for some of us. It just is. And maybe it’s not because some of us are weak. Maybe it’s because some of us are paying closer attention to all the messes down here. There are a lot of real messes. It’s not in our heads. It’s real. This place is hard.
It is bullshit that you lost your Lobster, Maggie. And this is a big risk I’m about to take right now because I never ever EVER step into another person’s pain and try to make it better. I can’t tolerate that, really. Even so I am going to tell you that while I grieve for you, there is a part of me that is relieved that your Lobster is free. I know how hard it is to live like she did. To be her. To carry around her heart and mind. It’s too heavy. Her life meant something, Maggie. It meant exactly what it was supposed to mean. And if and when you want to tell us all about her, you have an open invitation to Momastery. Talk about your Lobster here. Thousands and thousands of Lobsters will learn from her and love her. You write- I’ll post. Anything at all.
Please, please forgive her for being the lightning rod that she was. Celebrate her life and her freedom when you can. And YOU. Celebrate YOUR freedom now. You are free. Live your life. Lay hers down. It’s too heavy. You are still her Lobster, forever, and so you need to keep living. She wants that. I know it, because I’m her.
I love you, Maggie. I rarely cry while I’m writing anymore. But I’m crying quite hard this morning.
I wish I could do better for you. I wish I could take it all away. But we can’t do that. We need it all, I guess. We need the opportunity to turn this shit into something holy.
All, all my love. Please keep in touch, Maggie. I miss your Lobster for you.
G
*************************************
Our exchange was the beginning of an internet friendship.
This is me meeting Maggie in real life. Our hug was the beginning of an in-the-flesh friendship.
Maggie is now using the hot fuel of her grief (aka Love) to serve hurting people in the name of her sister. Of course she is. Because Maggie is a Phoenix, and because so is her sister, and because everything beautiful and true and good begins with a broken heart.
Maggie has planned an event in Chattanooga, Tennessee to celebrate her sister’s life and to benefit a youth development organization called On Point. It’s called LOVE WINS Chattanooga. And it’s being held on May 6, the anniversary of when her sister passed away. She has asked me to come be the speaker. The only words that come to my mind when I anticipate this event are: holy, holy, holy.
If you can, come.
Come and see what rises from the ashes. Come and see that Love does, indeed win.
Love,
Glennon and Maggie
Author of the #1 New York Times Bestseller LOVE WARRIOR — ORDER HERE
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115 Comments
Thank you, Glennon. I didn’t sit down at my computer this morning with a heavy heart or looking for anything in particular. I was really just kind of wasting time on facebook. I saw and read your post on Why the World Needs the Mentally Different. I emailed it to someone who really needs to know that he belongs in this world and is loved and accepted. Then I clicked the link to this post. Then I broke down. I didn’t expect this and I didn’t see it coming. I didn’t lose my lobster to addiction. I lost my mom to suicide after she suffered a very long battle with bipolar disorder. But it was a long time ago and I’m okay. I’m not angry. I’m not sad. This is hard to say, but I don’t even think about it very often. But it’s actually the being okay that sometimes doesn’t feel okay. It makes me feel guilty and ashamed and like an awful daughter and selfish person because I have been able to move on with my life so “easily”. But then you said it…you said that part about how part of you is relieved for Maggie’s lobster. And I lost it. I lost it because someone said that it’s okay to be relieved. I knew it was too hard for my mom. And then you made it worse/better when you told Maggie to celebrate HER freedom and to live HER life…you even put that part in caps, so I knew you meant it. And now I feel like it’s okay for me to be relieved and free. So, it’s funny, cause I kind of realized that even though I’m not really totally “okay” with my mom’s passing (or else there wouldn’t be all the tears and all the guilt), if I was okay, it would be totally okay. 🙂 Thank you. And I wish Maggie peace and I hope that she is okay. 😉 (I’m only just realizing after writing this comment, that I really like the word okay. I used to really hate it because I felt like it was so ambiguous, non-commital and devoid of feeling, but okay can actually be pretty powerful.)
That winky face really doesn’t “read” well now that I see it on paper, so to speak. I really hope Maggie has been able to get to, or is closer to, a place of “okay” with her lobster’s passing…meaning no anger, no guilt and is able to celebrate her lobster’s life as well as her own.
I lost my friend today. She bing drank everyday. Her heart stopped today. I never thought her bottom was death. She is free today. But we are here, worried about her children, feeling guilt for not doing enough, for ignoring her calls lady week because we were told tough love was the way to go. So sad and so relieved at the same time.
So sorry, Drea, for the loss of your friend. I hope, in time, you’ll be able to celebrate her life and your own, like Glennon said. And that you’ll all be okay.
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I bought a plane ticket to Nashville and am going to this event and I am SO EXCITED. I could quite possibly be Glennon’s #1 fan. I tried to go to KC a few weeks ago and my Mother in Law passed away so I could not. I read Maggie’s story and it hits home as I lost my brother to addiction and suicide 14 years ago. I cannot wait to meet the person I have admired from afar for over a year, read her book countless times, bought 8 books to pass on to others struggling, and read her words daily that I truly believe come straight out of MY own head and heart….how does she do that? And, Maggie how awesome you are passing on your love in service. Can’t wait to see what is in store for Tuesday.
“when my bulimia pops up, I never feel mad at myself. NEVER. Shame takes us closer to that edge than any single binge will. NO. Life is hard and I’m doing the best I can. So I just take inventory and love myself something FIERCE and then start over. Every single moment I am someone brand new.” I need this. I am learning this. Getting mad, punishing myself, sulking for days because I did that bad thing again doesn’t help. You’re right, it brings us closer to the edge. Thanks.
For two years I have been tangled up in my own head about my sister’s addiction, sorting through the What Can I Do feelings and the Nothing I Can Do realities, praying that this trip to the hospital is the one that sets her straight, that rehab will actually stick this time, that I don’t get an overseas phone call from my family telling me that she’s dead. I’ve imagined a variety of scenarios for how my kids will be cared for while I go to Utah to give her a piece of my liver or make a trip home for a funeral. I pray that this was rock bottom, then OK this DUI maybe, then maybe NOW… and in these years I’ve only been able to think of myself and my family. To read your words from the other side? I needed to see this. Thank you for sharing.
Wow… what an amazing post. I read this on Friday and I have not taken it off my computer since – I have left my computer up and on, so I can keep going back to this. I think I’ll just print it out!
You never cease to amaze me. I am in awe with your words Glennon… you have such a gift of expression…. I almost feel like printing this out and putting it in my journal as one of my own entries.
I am 90 days sober today – it has been a roller coaster to say the least. Some days are intense and insane and others I am praising and thanking God for my new found freedom…. It is freedom – and it is a beautiful gift, don’t get me wrong. But allllll the things you mention in your post are so familiar to me. I say to myself “Why can’t I just cozy up on the couch with a girlfriend and giggle? Why can’t I go out and have a beautiful dinner with my husband and a nice glass of wine? I can handle it!” NOT. I could go on and on and on…. but I can really relate to your post. And to hear that you battle affects of Lyme – I’m right there with you… I feel so alone and isolated with that battle as well. Life can be so lonely, but I am thankful for my clarity… though I want to jump out of my skin some days… a good cup of tea brings me some warmth and comfort.
OH and I have to mention – that I watch Intervention every night since I’ve gotten out of rehab…. I am a mom of a 3 year old, so when I put him to bed every night I sit in his room with my iPad as he tosses and turns (after we are finished with our books and prayers of course)… I watch a full episode of Intervention on Amazon Prime….I’m freaking out though b/c I’ve gone through seasons 10, 11 and 12… I only have 2 episodes left! What to watch now?!?! ha ha…
In all seriousness, thank you Glennon… I know you hear it every day from thousands of women, but we all mean it. You touch our hearts and souls and I thank you for being so open and honest. So many of us are so alone and feel so isolated, and to read your words, gives us all someone we can feel connected to – like maybe we aren’t so alone. Thank you. God has given you a gift…. your sobriety really is meant to heal so many wounded souls….. I truly believe you are God’s arm to many……
Much love!!
Hello dear soul sister.
I am one year sober yesterday. These days for you are crazy for sure… be strong, read read read and reach out if you feel you need support. I have two children and also went to rehab…. wow right? You can do it!
Laura
I’ll have to give some thought to making a reply worthy of this outpouring. I can say I’m not looking forward to turning my back daily on this abyss, but this week has me finally convinced that I’ll die if I don’t, and it won’t be just me that gets hurt.
For tonight, good night.
Man, I wish this was Facebook. I not only want to LOVE this post, but I just want to hit a “like” button to so many of the replies. The honesty. The brutal, this is the truth and there’s nothing that’s going to change that, honesty. By the grace of God, my only addiction is bulimia. It could easily have been a LOT more than that. Thank you for being honest about your continued struggle with bulimia, and that you don’t get angry with yourself. I am also in that place, of recovering, but not being recovered, and I don’t think it ever completely goes away. I am learning to love myself anyways.
Why the term lobster??
Glennon, we are so grateful that you pour all your raw energy (that you no longer lose in a bottle of vodka) into your writing. Your early morning honesty pounds hearts and connects minds. It’s amazing. Reading all the comments makes me think of my favourite piece of art by Rob Reynolds that says…. ‘Note To Self: Be Kind, Be Kind, Be Kind.’
You don’t need to explain WHY you’re declining a drink. “No, thank you” is all that’s required. Repeat as often as necessary and even the most inquisitive person will eventually get tired of pressing you to share details that you don’t want to share.
I love your blog and I’m always touched and heartened when I read it.
Best wishes to you.
Thank you, thank you, thank you. Your words are IT! Thank you for being a mirror to my own feelings and making me feel less alone, as well as inspiring me more than you will ever know. I know why you made it. And some days, I know why I did too. May those who didn’t make it here be killing it Somewhere Else! I know they are!
Glennon I have followed you for a long time but now everything feels real.We are losing my husband’s brother to drugs. Just losing him. Make people uncomfortable at parties Glennon. Everyone needs to know how lovely recovering addicts can be. So that people can see their sisters and brothers battling addiction and imagine a future that doesn’t end the way we have been picturing it ending for Jimmy. Thanks for being public and being this witness.
Almost 7 weeks ago, I finally did something about the shame that haunted me for two years. I feel so amazing but also know that there will be hard times ahead for me as a recovering alcoholic. Last weekend, I had the first “tug” of wishing I could drink but then the next thought that I will never be able to have just one glass of wine. That is my lot. I can’t or it will kill me. I’ve been to meetings and love what I learn from every woman, but your post was spot on for me. Work functions have become torture — everyone assumes I am pregnant. I don’t want to be the buzz kill, but I also don’t want alcoholism to forever define me. I don’t want my tombstone to have “alcoholic” on it — recovering or otherwise. I want to stay sober, be present, love feeling good (I never defined my feeling bad as a hangover … just tired, foggy, my stomach hurt, blah blah blah). And now I feel good. It’s hard, but I feel good. There are bomb shelters under my skin daily that keep me from imploding with the fire that sometimes builds and now can’t be fizzled with a drink. There is anxiety that makes it so I can’t sit still or live in my own skin without moving or talking to someone or playing music so loud my brain can’t hear the voices. There’s recovery yoga, which helps me get back into my body without my brain messing up my thoughts. I hope that your post is hope for other women — there are times when being the recovering alcoholic sucks. But I try to balance all the sucking with how good it feels physically and emotionally to wake up alive, present and here. I’m here. For myself, my husband, my daughter.
Just wanted to share my line. Folks who don’t know me often reeeaaallllyy want me to have a drink. I always just laugh and say “everybody gets a certain number of drinks in life, and I’ve already had all of mine.”
This is brilliant. Humor eases many things in life . . .
Love this! Thanks for sharing!
I remember this well. I had a real melt down reading this, and it was my first foray into Momastery, my first introduction to you G. I fell in love with you, of course, and reading this again batters AND cradles my soul. Thank you for posting this.
It’s so amazing Glennon what you are able to do with just words. Simple writing, only thoughts, one would think, nothing special. But it is special. You are special. You’re like my own personal Jesus and I love reading your blog, to start the day with parts of your experience, to be healing with you by my side. I believe there is good in the world and you, G, you are this ‘good’. Thank you!!
I just got your book today and can’t put it down. Your blog today hits home as my Lobster is battling alcoholism and I’m afraid I will lose her soon. I’ve just bought her a copy of Carry On and it’s on its way to her. Praying it helps to heal the way I know it can. Thank you!
This post popped up in my facebook feed today.
Another thing that happened today is that I saif the words ‘my mom is a drug addict’ for the first time.
I don’t know who to turn to, what resources to tap, what books to read. I’m so tired of being her caregiver already, and am angry but resigned that she is adding to our list of problems right now. I’ve dealt with a lot, but not addiction; I guess this explains all the lying. I’m 30, she’s 65. No other family. She is gravely disabled.
Thanks for all your stories. If anyone has advice, or can simply commiserate, 1rainy wish at gmail.
Alanon or ACOA may be helpful resources for you. You are not alone. I’ll say it again, you are NOT alone. Reach out in your community to the groups that are there to help you. Thinking of you, a friend in NY.
Thank you.
Lost my ex husband to addiction. When he was sober, I am sure this was how he felt…. Unfortunately, he was in just as much pain when he was not sober, too, and decided to take his own life, leaving me to explain his death to our 12 year old daughter. She is now 13 and at some point know we will have to talk about his addiction to alcohol and how it contributed to his death.
Dear G: I love this piece. So brutifully and painfully honest. I lie here reading what you wrote about alcohol and I feel like I’m looking into a mirror. Except that my drug of choice is food. For every uncomfortable, anxiety-ridden moment, there’s a pint of ice cream ready to be my best friend and quiet my brain. I can keep it under control. Until the days when I can’t. Lately, the overwhelming days far outnumber the do-able ones. And I’m eating more and more to try to gain control. Except I can’t. Because as soon as I eat, I feel immediate shame. And more pain. How do you stop the cycle when you have to eat some food everyday? Alcoholics don’t have “just one drink”. Cocaine addicts don’t snort “just one line”. And people like me can’t have “just one potato chip”.
Thank you for writing so openly and honestly. Thank you for helping me to understand that I’m not in this alone.
I started attending overeaters anonymous in 2012. It’s changed my life. As a recovering alcoholic and drug addict I have had the 12 steps in my life for years but I had no idea how to apply them to my overeating. OA has given me support and friendship and recovery from overeating.
Hello Amy- Hugs to you! I am a registered dietitian who has worked with so mnay patients who also deal with a lack of control around eating. In fact, I deal with this myself at times as well. You are not alone!!!
Even though I truely believe that you can have all foods in moderation, for those who struggle with control, I recommend that they eliminate those “trigger” foods for awhile in order to help gain control. If there are many foods that you lose control of, then start with elimating one. Baby steps!
I also recommend focusing on your energy on vegetables and fruit. Change your relationship with food to focus on loving and nourishing yourself. Learn to cook them in declicious ways. Try new ones. Have fun with food!
It is not this simple, of course. There are therapists that specialize in this and I definately recommend reaching out to one. I will keep you in my thoughts!
Amy – I’m right there with you…I’ve been battling this all my life…and dealing with infertility treatments and post-partum depression for the past 10…I have 2 beautiful children and 4 angel babies…and have been trying so hard to find me in this body I have now…G’s message hits me on a day where I’ve just made another appointment with my GP to try another antidepressant because the weekend found me wondering if I just started drinking more or tried some other drug…would I feel better…and the deep down part of me that has a rational brain is screaming “OMG…you’re seriously considering this???” I can hear her…but I can’t seem to put her in control. Chocolate and ice cream are my personal demons…I don’t buy them for the house, but working full time…I’m where I can buy them any time I stop…and I have a hard time telling myself no. Just one more, I’ll start to eat better tomorrow, Monday, next month….all people see on the outside is this fat woman buying more chocolate and thinking, no wonder she’s that big…they don’t see the battle that is raging inside this woman’s heart…KNOWING that I shouldn’t but not really being able to not…adding to that pain with every bite and still not being able to stop. I have people who offer to help, but they just don’t seem to understand…
You. Are. AMAZING! Every single one of you that have commented here and Glennon for all that she put out there for us to see (and feel)!! I am so moved by everyones’ stories and how open you have all been. This is where it starts….right here when you can spill it and be honest, and share all of this pain and anguish….the healing starts NOW. Love you all!!
Damn Girl…when you write, you enter into my brain and from there my heart. Having just reaching my one year sobriety date your words that you spoke to me in Philly are coming true. You said “It gets better.”
It has. But, it is still so hard. Yes, I too would like to have that ONE glass of wine at dinner or a few with my friends and get “giddy”. That ONE I know would be twenty and so on. But reading your words help, just like when I heard them.
As a nurse, I am now more cognizant of the “after effects” of addiction/alcoholism. I see them in a much different light and sometimes question, “Why wasn’t that me?” Somebody must have a better plan for me. Just like you. And yes, I too would just love to escape. But I know I have to continue this battle of life. The good, the bad and the ugly parts. It’s just sometimes hard. That’s when I think of those words..”We can do HARD things”
Judie, Glennon is right, it gets better. I remember being 25 & quitting for the 2nd & last time. It seemed to SUCK, that I couldn’t be like everyone else. I wanted to But I know I am not like everyone else. I was created to be ME, and the ME I was created to be is now 23 & a half years sober. I believe that God pulled me back from death countless times because He has a plan for me to use my experience to help others with their battle of life. I can see that now. So please hang in there, take time out to love yourself, because there is an AWESOME plan out there for you!
You are right we can do the HARD things, but remember, you never have to do them alone!
Wow. I don’t read your blog super often, but when I do I adore it. This is JUST what I needed today. I felt compelled to check your blog and this title caught my attention! Thank you so much for sharing what addiction really feels like. Many, many tears shed as I read. Thank you for your courage to share this.
P.S. I’ll be reading more often now. 😉
Dearest Glennon, I lost my mother to alcoholism in 1977 when she was 46 (looked like 76) and I was 21. She didn’t put a gun to her head, but committed suicide just the same with massive amounts of booze every day. When you grow up in an alcoholic household, you become very clever at managing things. My mother’s bad behavior became my despair and shame. I would carefully tuck my feelings away and close the cupboard door and smile a brave face to the world. Even now all these years later, something will trigger that memory that I thought I had overcome and it rears it’s angry dragon’s head and leaves me knocked flat, with a knot in my throat again, choking back tears, years of shed and unshed tears. She cheated on my father when she drank and he forgave her time and time again. I loved the gardener, the cook, the seamstress, the poet…I despised the drunk. I worked hard to not hate myself for hating what she had become. I cooked, cleaned, managed the household like an adult and helped my little sister. I excelled in school. It was the only way I could ease my pain. My father left for 4 months to go to school and when he came home she was pregnant. She tried to get an abortion, but they weren’t legal in 1969. She drank a lot when she was pregnant, vodka straight out of the bottles she hid in purses and coat pockets in her closet, a trick she learned from her mother. My little brother was born with fetal alcohol syndrome (FES) and still she drank. It took me leaving for college for my father to finally leave her and take the younger kids. She married another alcoholic and continued her spiral down. I could not save her. I could only save myself. The year before she died, I had to shut her out f my life. It hurt too much. I got the phone call from the hospital and went to see her. They had taken her stomach out because of bleeding and told me it was just a matter of time. She spent 6 weeks in ICU and I went to the hospital every day. I read to her, painted her toenails, combed her hair and learned to love her again and forgive her. The surgery to hook her esophagus up to her small intestine was too much for her. There was too much damage and she died. I knew that God in his infinite wisdom had given me a chance to love her again and forgive, for that I am still grateful. My brother lives with my sister and has for most of his almost 45 years. He has terrible rages and depression and is verbally and physically abusive to her. My mother’s legacy lives on through her damaged child that will never have a normal life. My sister endures and says it is God’s will. My forgiveness for my mother comes and goes. I am still working on it. Addiction is a terrible disease and hopefully there will be a cure someday…a light switch you can turn off and say, “I am healed.” Thank-you, Glennon, for sharing you story and thanks to the other brave souls that reach out to share their struggles. It is a hard world out there and we need each other.
I don’t cry. Well, not for me anyway. But today I’m crying. Because of this! Because I’m an addict. Because I don’t have a lobster. Because I’m alone and lonely and sad. And I’m stepping out and admitting it. There is so much of me in what you wrote. It was as if I had held up a mirror and ‘saw’ for the very first time. Now that I’ve seen, I want. . . I need. . . to do something about it. But I don’t know what and I don’t know how and I don’t have a lobster. So I’ll just sit right here and cry til God sends a lobster. Thank you for writing Glennon. Thank you for making a difference. Thank you for getting folks like me to look in the mirror before it’s too late. And thank you too, Maggie, for being brave enough.
Quinn, I don’t know addiction intimately (distantly, but not closely). You can take my unsolicited advice and throw it away. But I have to say it anyway.
Be your own lobster.
Do it for yourself. Because you are important and worthy of it.
Thank you, Denise. I can’t be my own lobster until I learn to love myself. I promise to try.
Quinn,
Get to an AA meeting. If you don’t have a Lobster to go with you, go alone. You will finds lots of folks there who will love and support you. Go now. Get online and find a meeting tonight. You are so worth it.
Thank you Gretchen.
Quinn, there is a solution. Like Glennon, my life was fueled by addiction/alcoholism. By the Grace of All that is, I will be sober 10 years in July. I cannot say it is always easy but I can say it gets better. If you need someone to talk with, please email me. I am here for you.
Glennon, I have the most intense ache in my throat as I try to breathe through the tears this posting evoked. I have lost several dear ones to the ravages of the dis-ease of addiction. It does give me pause and the questions always comes, “Why not me?” What I must believe is that I am here to be of service to others, to help heal the world through LOVE, and to be a voice for those who left us far too soon. I am not certain what a lobster is, but I do know a Warrior when I “see” one. Carry on and thank you for telling my story, your story, our story,
Peace,
Michaeline
How do I e-mail you, Michaeline? My e-mail is: [email protected].
Thank you Michaeline. I sent another reply, but it’s been awaiting moderation for awhile now. How can I email you?
I know exaxtly how u feel. U are not alone. Take offers for help and follow their directions. There is a meaning for everything that has happened to u in the last 48 hours. Listen to it!!!!
Thank you Kiki. I know you are right. It was sort of like God sending a lobster my way. I’m clean 1.5 days now. Holding on by what I swear is my last never, but holding on anyway. I keep telling myself, “this will pass, this will pass, and life will get better.” God give me strength!
“nerve” not “never”
Quinn, You are NOT ALONE! I hope you have gotten to an AA Meeting. There, you will find your closest people, struggling with the same things you are.
I am not an addict, but my husband is and he is almost 4 months sober. In Treatment and AA he has made some of the closest friends because they understand him, better than people he has known all his life.
I have started going to Al Anon and It is the same. We are NOT alone, none of us.
There was a quote on Glennons blog a few days ago that said “you will impress people with your strengths, but you connect with them with your weaknesses” This is so true. Find your people and connect with them. Share your story, we will listen. we care about you and you are not alone. just remember that!
I know that many addicts have The same stories about their tangled and torn path to sobiety but not much is Said of The inner struggles and every day cliff hanging that is dealt with in The aftermath. Thanks for bringing it out into The sunshine. I am 251 days sober and fight Daily with boredom, loneliness, anxity, and constant searching.
People asume that your life is better now but really, its a different struggle. I still have The chemical imbalance that got me there in The First place . Still have dependency issues, lack coping skills, dysfunctional past and you know what? I am not all alone. I just realised that glennon. I sit here Daily and bury myself in shame for how i struggle and how i feel. I quit drinking and still feel terrible. But not alone. Kiki
Kiki- I fought those exact same feelings for the first 17 months of my sobriety…every day. “What do I do now after work”? “How do I go to a sporting event”? “How do I celebrate anything or mourn anything”? I found AA and a sponsor and did everything she said (and I still do). I did not have any grand spiritual awakening and my “obsession removed” as so many people describe. I did however slowly stop thinking and obsessing over what do to, the anxiety I felt, and how to handle every situation without alcohol. I started to try new things and meet a few new friends. I still feel like Glennon does in that I still wish I could enjoy a beer or glass of fine and “drink normally” but I can’t, so I don’t. It does get better. It takes practice and patience and for me, a relationship with God and weekly meetings with my AA group. It has changed my life and I am so grateful for that. My brother was an alcoholic and addict and shot himself 14 years ago this week. He was 27. I waited until I was 37 and I finally realized that I didn’t want that to be me. There is so much to live for. I have been sober 2 years and 4 months and I still count. I probably always will. I wish you luck and much love along the way. Just keep doing the best next right thing and the rest will come…..just a little slower than we want it to.
Sara
You are right Sara, we still count. 23 1/2 years & still counting! I could not have done it without AA and building my relationship with God. Thank you for what you shared with Kiki. Keep encouraging others, it is one part of sobriety that strengthens us.
Kelly
Yes, yes and yes. It is a different struggle. But as messy as it is, it is more beautiful, due to all the broken-hearted, beautiful people we get to meet along the way. I don’t drink because I love my recovery community too much and can’t imagine my life without them! Four years, five months, one day at a time xxx
Thanks Sara ,Kelly and Sarah !
Your words are so kind and i am so glad you replied to My note. Makes me feel inspired for easier days to come. Thank you!
Sara, i Will be thinking about you this week. Let your feelings Pour out about your brother . I am sure he is very proud of you and is your Number one fan from heaven! Xoxo
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I lost my older brother just 3 months ago, to his addiction. He was a husband, father, brother, uncle, son, friend. I have had so many feelings and emotions, most have been negative, anger, betrayal, pain. Most of all I have been mad at him. Every one said it was his addiction that drove him, that the actions he took were not his choices. That didn’t help me, I was still so angry. But what you wrote has helped me to get a glimpse of what he had to deal with every day. It does not sound like an easy task. I can now look at others in his same situation with much more understanding and respect. I still have several feelings to work through, but you may have just given me the boost I need. Thank you.
Thank you for your honesty. I lost my baby, my son.. to addiction. He was 25 years old. Thank you for giving me a peek into what his world was like when he was with us .. and thank your for helping me to believe there is something more after this. Thank you
Painful. Beautiful. So very touching. Thank you
Thank you for reposting this story, G. When I read it the first time, I had no idea that my daughter was a drug and alcohol addict. Reading it again (now that I know) has me sobbing.
In trying to understand my daughter’s addiction, I have been reading a book called “Clean: Overcoming Addiction”; for those of you who do not think addiction is a disease, I beg that you read this book. It has given me a greater understanding of how addiction works and what to expect.
She missed Christmas with her two children because she was in jail (she stole money/items to pawn for drugs). Then she violated her probation (with all new charges) and has been back in jail for almost two months now. We are begging for her sentencing to include residential rehabilitation for at least six months and up to 12 months. Her kids miss her so much. Her family misses who she used to be. I love my grand kids and love raising them, but I want them to know their mom the way we knew her, not as an addict.
Please say a prayer for my daughter, that she would return to her family and children/life before drugs and be able to turn away from the things that harm her. We want her to live and we want HER to want to live.
Hi, I read your comment and just want you to know that I am making a note on my desk at work to pray for your daughter every morning before I begin my day.
I know that addiction is a disease….something that not enough people understand, and this lack of understanding can be so detrimental. This book you recommended sounds good, I will reserve it at my library.
Have you read Heather Kopp’s blog? Please do. She has guest posted here at Momastery before. I think that her story will be encouraging for you. She was saved from years of alcoholism and has an amazing story. Her book is “Sober Mercies” and her blog is heatherkopp.com
Love & hope to you, sister.
Thank you so much for that commitment to pray for her (and me!) – what an encouragement. I will look up that blog; I don’t think I have seen that…thanks! Years of enduring my father’s alcoholism did not begin to prepare me for what I am seeing now in my daughter. It is heartbreaking and very scary.
I am so touched by this…what a beautiful message you have shared….thank you!
Glennon – did you see these??? LOVE WINS!! LOVE CONQUERS ALL!!
This is AMAZING! It really hit home today. My husband is an addict and it helps me to understand him a little better. WE are working through it and stories like yours make me want to work as hard as i can. You have truly helped me these last few months G.
Don’t Stop!
I sit here in an airport, killing time (which used to be a perfect time slip into an airport bar and pretend like the only reason I was drinking in the middle of the day was because I was traveling) and I read your blog post. Often times when I read your posts, I crack up or shake my head at the fact that if two of us feel the same way, then thousands of us feel the same way and that uniqueness that I pride myself on is actually completely and utterly false. I read this time, expecting a smile or a laugh and instead found myself holding back the surge of tears that unlocked as I read through what could have been my diary, (although much more eloquently spoken). Thank you for telling me that it’s ok to be sober, productive and committed to a beautiful, fruitful life and still feel absolutely on the edge sometimes. The missed parties, the women friendships that I am SURE would be amazing if we could have the baptismal drunken “first dates”, the loose, exciting man-scapades that we just don’t do without the lubricant of a few drinks (which they know, which make them shy away from the ones who politely say “no, I don’t drink. Nope, never.”)…I didn’t expect that gift of your post, so thank you. Thank you also, Nicole. I lost my own sister to addiction and there are no words other than I’m sorry for that shitty, shitty loss. I’m happy to hear that you are using that grief as fuel. Energy is energy is energy. Thank you again.
I was so teary that I said Nicole instead of Maggie…wtf…can’t even blame it on the booze. Another downside of continued sobriety…xoxo
I don’t think I’ve ever, ever read anything more true or hard or beautiful than this. Thank you thank you thank you.
I’m not an alcoholic, but I spent years of my life dealing with pain and relationships and life with the help of alcohol. And now I’m different.
I don’t know you, Glennon, but I’d be willing to bet that “before”, with the help of alcohol, the one thing you couldn’t have done was to be as open and honest and compassionate as you were in this letter. Honesty like this is so refreshing and amazing and full of life.
The old saying is: in vino veritas. I use to believe that, but I don’t anymore.
Great post!
Thank you Glennon
This brought me to my knees this morning. Thank you for your honesty Glennon and for sharing Maggie and her story with us. I never really understood why it takes something so bad in order to make something so good…like your revolution. Like Maggie’s Love Wins. I guess its God’s way of saying, “I’ve got this.” It’s like going through a horrible winter, filled with grey skies and no escape out of your four walls. And then, finally seeing the sun, feeling that warmth on your face-its like God is telling us, “you made it.”
I have a dear friend who is like my Lobster and she is still in the winter…she is locked in the darkness of depression and fear because of a man who hurt her and continues to hurt her even in front of her babies. She is alone and wont let us help her, but we still try. I am scared every day that I will get that call…
But I still have hope, hope that she will put just one foot in front of the other, inhale and then exhale and someday soon feel the sun on her face.
Thank you for always being real and for loving those that you don’t know. I don’t have a sister but like to think she’d be a lot like you if I did. Brave and strong and brutiful and broken. Thank you Glennon for helping us to love one another without judgement and with reckless abandon. God sure knew what he was doing when He wrote your story.
XOXO
Meghan
I will be there, Glennon and Maggie. I’ll be ready for a church service, monkees-style. No shame; lots of love. And SO MUCH key dropping. See you then, friends!
Wow. Thanks. That was tremendously beautiful. Your words are powerful and sink into my heart and soul.
You have a gift in the way you relate to others. Thank you so much for your uninhibited candor. Though we haven’t met – I’m so proud of you! Xoxo
Oh Glennon. This hit me. So very hard. I lost not my Lobster but my ex husband, the father of my first three children, my best frenemy since I was 17. We fought like cats and dogs but had an understanding of each other that only comes from growing up together.
He died from food addiction.
That sounds so ridiculous. Because he ACTUALLY died from loneliness, from inadequacies (imagined), from a broken heart, from child abuse, from parental neglect.
I couldn’t fix that. Not in 11 years together. Not in begging and pleading for him to get help. Not in finally leaving because he broke me. Nothing worked.
He was still a very large part of our lives. Spent holidays with us. Loved my two youngest kids with my new husband. We still spoke at least 3x a week and texted almost everyday.
Mostly I was exasperated that he was over 400lbs and only 5ft 8in. Mostly I lost my temper that he wouldn’t go to the dr. But I also cheered him on when he started exercising. I made him be positive to show our boys that you control your destiny.
It didn’t work. He died. And my 18 year old son found him.
And I am angry, and devastated, and so very sad.
I just lost my grandson, age 20, to drug addiction two weeks ago.
Could you please PM me the contact information for the event in
Chattanooga? I will attend, as I am only about two hours away.
Thank You, for your openness and honesty.
Bonnie W.
Tuesday May 6, 2014 at 11:30am at Stratton Hall 3146 Broad Street Chattanooga, TN 37408
Regular Tickets: $75 per person/$600 per table VIP Tickets: $150 per person/$1200 per table *VIP Tickets includes private meet & greet with Glennon Melton
All proceeds benefiting On Point! CLICK HERE TO PURCHASE YOUR TICKETS!
For more information: 423-899-9188 or [email protected]
My answer to the drink offer (for the last 9 years) is always “No thanks, I’m not drinking tonight.”
It removes all the moral statement, judgy, awkward thing about it.
I have found it works 99% of the time. People accept that and move on with their fun.
A beautiful post. Thank you for writing it.
An incredibly powerful message. Thank you for all you do.
It was good to read this post again. I am in the midst of losing my brother to addiction. He’s only 30, but he’s dying. Even if he stops drinking, he’ll be ill for the rest of his life. Life has always, always been hard for him. He has an imagination that is more real than real life. I know he’ll be free when he dies, but I wish he’d fight a little harder to stay on this side of eternity. He has so many “feels,” if you know what I mean. He tried putting up lots of walls to protect himself, but the only thing that worked was deadening them with alcohol, I guess. It sucks.
Thank you so so so much for your honesty. I know it hurts your “feels” too.
Hey! I am really interested in coming. where is it in Chattanooga?
I remember you writing back to Maggie after she lost her precious sister. I’m glad to hear the update and the inspiring, amazing things that she is doing in her Lobster’s memory. Love to you both.
My dad was a lightning rod… and I feel like our relationship has improved a lot since he went Somewhere Else. Thank you for sharing this. It touched me and resonated on a million levels. I wish you, Maggie, deep healing and you, too, G. And every Monkee who has been touched by addiction. I love you all.
Strength.
I love your writing, your heart, your passion, your honesty and most of all your encouragement!
Life does go on…. xoxo
Addiction is hard, and just when you think you have it beat, it will rear its ugly head and tempt you to jump of that ledge again. I’ve been sober for many years now, but I still have dreams that will cause me to wake up in a cold sweat, or will see a movie/tv show that will cause me to feel that “rush” I used to feel. It’s hard, and it NEVER goes away. I don’t live with regret, because I’m stronger than I ever was before drugs. I am more accepting of those society casts out as alcoholic or junkies, because I understand. It wasn’t like they woke up one day and said, “hey, I think I want to become an addict.” Addiction sneaks up on you, grabs ahold, and drags you into the depths of hell. Some come back, some don’t. Living life on life’s terms is a challenge that some cannot handle, and unfortunately numb themselves to the point they never come back. Only when society realizes that addiction is an illness that needs to be treated with the same kit gloves as other terminal illnesses, will the negative stigma go away! Thank you for being an inspiration to others and allowing us to see that there are other “normal” people out there with the same struggles.
I am so grateful for this today. With every word my heart raced and my eyes sting with tears. My heart and my mind know every word so intimately. This week has been so terribly difficult. I’m overcome with the loneliness of sobriety from addiction. I feel that edge so intensely but push with everything in me to choose Joy and keep doing the next right thing. All week I have felt a terrible pull by that nonstop hamster in my head that won’t get off that wheel & leads my mind to a forever heaven every time. That desperation of some kind of freedom from the chaos of my head and the sensitivity of my cracked open heart. I hold forever gratitude for a sober life that I AM a part of. I know deep inside I want to be in my kid’s life til I’m 105 and I want to keep loving fiercely and I want to be loved and I cling to all of the Joy I find, pure and fought for, and I feel sad when I still feel such a pull to a different freedom. I feel selfish. I’ve learned to offer my self grace and forgiveness…each day is new. I know shame kept me stuck and I let it go months ago. I don’t think I feel shame, I think I feel exhausted and lonely. THIS entry today reminded me I am not alone. Big LOVE… Thank you Maggie for carrying on your Lobster.
Oh, my God. Not taking God’s name lightly…that’s a prayer. Oh, my God, so many people who need your hand, your help. Crying so hard, and I don’t even (openly?) have an addict in my life, although after one comment, I am thinking I need to take a good look at my own carbs. Maggie and Mary Beth and Stephanie…I won’t pretend I understand how this feels for you, but I am sobbing even without knowing that because of what pain is obvious already.
And for you, Glennon. I don’t know how and where you find it in yourself to come back here and lay yourself out in front of us again. Yet again. Even more that you have hidden and with which you still fight.
I have to be somewhere, but I couldn’t read and not comment. I will be back later to read again and very likely cry again, and in the meantime…oh, my God…
Wow. I’m a relatively new reader, but am addicted to everything you say (and of course bought your book:)). Can you please please come to Phoenix? I would drive there to see you! You are an incredible person. Just incredible. Every day.
And I realize I used the work “addicted” in a very “pop culture” (and therefore not authentic) way there – maybe a freudian slip after reading this deep, painful post? I’m not sure…will have to think on that one…
G, I lost my lobster last night at 8pm. Liver failure from Hep C caused by using needles. She was my cousin and 14 years my senior. Her name was Jaanu. She lived two blocks from me and growing up in a mentally and physically abusive home with drugs and alcohol, she was my escape, my savior. She introduced me to so much music, my love of gardening, makeup and the most amazing sour cream chicken enchiladas you ever did taste. She gave me hope and taught me that I wasn’t to blame for the life I was given but that at some point I could take control and do anything, be anyone and to never be ashamed of being me, even if I was “different”. Then shortly after I went off to University, she went off the rails. Drink, dugs, you name it. She cheated on her husband whom I adored and named my first cat after (George), she basically quit paying attention to her kids who were in their early teens and starting to follow suit, and then to add insult to injury she eventually ended up using with my youngest sister who I practically raised, who had a daughter (she has since lost custody) and I couldn’t cope with it all so I gave up on her and ended all contact. Fast forward 10 or 15 years, I’m now married to the most kind and patient and not to mention SQUARE man with two beautiful daughters, and while I have a very blessed life, I know how hard it can be down here and even with the greatest life circumstances, it can be hard. We never fully know what is going on in someone’s mind. I understand that now, I didn’t then and while I don’t agree with her choices, I understand that life is not as black and white, cut and dry as I thought it was 10 or so years ago. I should mention that I had my own bout of alcohol and drug abuse from the age of 16 to 23. That was how I ended up coping with everything. Luckily for me, six months before I met my husband, I stopped. I have a drink now and then but thats about it. I know there is no answer to it all, but I can’t help but feel very angry, devastated, absolutely GUTTED and still even more angry. I’m angry at her for doing this to herself, for letting me down, for giving up. I’m angry at myself for giving up on her, for not trying harder, I’m angry at myself for being me. Then I think about my own children… my aunt and uncle were fantastic parents… so I can be the best parent ever and my children can still end up going through this… the pressure is almost too much to bear. And I can tell you, I experienced more in my short 33 years on this earth than a lot of people and hey that’s ok. It made me stronger and it made me who I am now but today, I don’t feel strong. I don’t feel happy, I feel hopeless and angry and I hate it. I HATE IT. She was the light at the end of the tunnel for me for such a long time and then I couldn’t see it and now it’s gone forever and I feel alone and no one understands and I am so sad and so angry.
My 4 yo Esme has just brought me a picture she drew of my cousin so I would “never forget what she looks like”. She is smiling in the picture Esme drew. I hope she is smiling now and at peace. I hope she knows how much I adored her and how sorry I am for giving up on her and how I will try to honor her memory everyday, some way, some how.
Thank you for letting me tell you about my lobster Jaanu.
Oh, Morgan. My soul is crushed for you. I am glad that you told us and that you have someone right there with you who you can hang onto, to help keep you from making what could be a bad choice. God be with you.
Thank you, for your kind thoughts and words Meredith. x
Morgan, I’m so sorry about Jaanu. muchlove to you. xoxoxoxox
Thank you Karen. Much love to you and all the Monkees out there!
I can’t re-read the letter because I know I won’t be able to function the rest of the day if I do, but this gives me some hope. I am almost eight months out the end of my brother’s addiction fight and I am trying to do good things in his memory, but so far I have made plans and hid under the covers instead of actually following through. I want to be that person, that rock, for others going through this hard, hard journey of loving an addict, but it seems impossible. I’ll keep trying, though.
You will probably never know, Glennon, the gift you are to so many. But on behalf of so many who will benefit from your sharing, even if they may never read your story, through the butterfly effect of others’ actions due to what you’ve shared, thank you.
Love!
Wow, thank you Glennon. I have a spouse that is struggling with addiction and it really, really pisses me off sometimes. I don’t think he’d every give me as many thoughts as you just did regarding addiction and how hard it is. Addicition is hard for everyone. He is doing much, much better, however its been a problem for a lot longer than I ever knew. Thank you for your brutal honesty, it clears up some things that linger in my brain all the time.
I have never opened up about my husband or my strugglings online and it feels very scary and weird. Like my mom is going to read this, or sister, or friend and say, “aha, that’s what’s going on in that house”. So be it. You struck a nerve. And your words helped. I wanted you to know.
Thank you Glennon, for putting it all out there. It has really helped me today.
Carolyn
Glennon-
I feel less lonely today, in my sobriety, having read your post. 8 years in June. I don’t miss most things about those days but since emptying the merlot I kept hidden in my underwear drawer and pouring out the vodka I stored in water bottles, I live with a paranoia that I will accidentally drink again. Not intentionally, but by mistake. I still, to this day, sniff every single water bottle after I open it, even if I just purchased it at the store.
It’s cunning and baffling and illuminating and exhausting and selfish and dishonest, this disease. It’s everything and it’s nothing and it’s all the bullshit in between. It’s Monday through Sunday and it courses through my veins long after my last drink infiltrated my blood stream. I am better and worse for being an alcoholic.
And don’t even get me started on having to feel LIFE in real time.
My drug of choice is carbs today. I eat bread and pasta the same way I drank wine: Alone, straight from source, short jagged breaths in between fistfuls of food. I wear my addiction around my middle, but society doesn’t recoil the same way it does when you bring up sobriety. They just sell bigger sizes.
I know I have to deal with it. Someday. Somehow.
Thank you so much for your work. I never comment but was compelled to say something today. The words just….stuck to me.
So brave to share this, Jo. I will say a prayer that you will hang on.
Your words stuck with me, Jo Ashline.
“My drug of choice is carbs today. I eat bread and pasta the same way I drank wine: Alone, straight from source, short jagged breaths in between fistfuls of food. I wear my addiction around my middle, but society doesn’t recoil the same way it does when you bring up sobriety. They just sell bigger sizes.”
Jo, that is one of the most powerful things I have ever read. THANK YOU for your transparency.
Jo, I am right there with you and when I am sick and tired of being sick and tired of the weight I now carry through releasing my addiction to alcohol and rewarding myself with carbs, I know there is a solution. I pray my body will hold on until I am able to deal with this new dis-ease.
Peace,
Michaeline
Your honesty and perspective are remarkable. Thank you for sharing and inspiring. Just beautiful.
Wow. Just wow. And thank you.
Thank you for these words today Glennon. I lost my precious 27 year old son on 5/19/13 to an overdose of fentanyl and alcohol. I know you weren’t writing that post specifically for me but you might as well have been. The world is a hard place and I think my Matthew was too sensitive, too tuned into the pain to be able to live here. So he went somewhere else and will be there when I get to see him again. I know this and believe it with all my heart and yet I have hours and days and weeks and months where the pain of his going is overwhelming and I just want him back and I can’t have him back and besides why would he want to come back to this mess and then that makes me mad. In short, I’m a mess. I’m learning though, learning to live in this world without him and celebrate this life for him, the way he would have wanted to if he was still here. I’ve started a small non-profit to help families who are trying to help their own loved ones with addiction. It would be so wonderful if I could help prevent even one mother from having to bury her child. Thank you Glennon for your brave and brutiful honestly. You are a precious gift in my life. Mary Beth
We lost my brother 8/17/13 to a similar combination. He would’ve been 24 a couple weeks later. We may not know each other, but know you are in my prayers and on my heart and I am cheering on your non-profit venture!
Thank you Stephanie. I’m so sorry for the loss of your beautiful brother. I will pray for you also. Thank you also for the cheers for my little venture. You can find us at beautifulmessfoundation.org All I want is to find a way to help.
Hi Mary Beth. I lost my brother 14 years ago this week and he was also 27. He was an alcoholic and addict and could not deal with this crazy world buried in his own addictions and guilt so he shot himself. Selfishly, I sometimes wish him back here so he can meet his daughter that arrived 7 months after he died and to teach my boys how to hunt and fish. I wish him back here so I can confide in the one person who had my back no matter what and so I won’t feel so alone on the days that I do. But then I remember the constant hell he lived in and the daily battle he fought….with himself. I remind myself that this world down here was just too much for him. I know this because I felt many of those same emotions before I decided to get sober 2 years and 4 months ago. It is not a pleasant way to live when those demons constantly penetrate your every being. I am grateful for helping myself by finding AA and God and the opportunity to tell my niece about her Dad. My heart goes out to you. I feel your pain in this moment as I have watched my own mother grieve Glen’s loss for years. It does get better. Never the same, but a little better each day. I am so sorry. All love.
Sara
Thank you Glennon. Everyday I live in fear of losing my son for everyday it is a struggle that he is not willing to challenge.
God love you both. Thank you!
Wow. So beautiful and so honest. You are such a gift!
Thank YOU. Keep on, keepin’ on. xo
Oh Glennon, so beautiful. I was just worrying and wondering about whether I should post the messy-beautiful ‘postcard’ that I’ve written tonight. Wondering whether it’s a bit too exposed and honest. Worrying about whether people would think of me differently.
And then I read this..
And I have never seen such honesty shining with such beauty.
And I do think of you differently… I think of you better.
Thank you
Ellie x
Ellie, I know fear sometimes keeps us from the very thing that could help release us from some of our pain, and can help someone else in the healing process. I have shared my story with a few people that I’m close to. It has helped some, and one day I will feel safe enough to share with more people. The friend who knows me best, (next to Jesus and my husband), told me I am a safe person to share things with. That is the BEST compliment I’ve ever received!!
After all I’ve been through, my friend sees me for who I am and not for the mistakes I’ve made in the past. And I see her for who she is, not the struggles she has gone/is going through. We can trust one another with ANYTHING! We are brutiful and messy : )
So maybe it will take finding that one “safe” person to share with before sharing with the rest of the world. I know feeling safe is important, especially because I trusted my –sort of subtlety, all the sudden very abusive– ex husband (2 of those actually) and my life became even more painful for how they handled things. One was exploitive and the other didn’t let the pain of my past stay buried, when I had already been forgiven and (mostly) healed of the exploitation.
So I hope one day soon people will see us for who we want to be and are trying to be.
Praying for healing, whatever it is you’re considering sharing.
Thanks for sharing this, beautifully said.
Tears.
I’m trying to turn the pain of losing my brother to depression into love- and most days I do, but this week I just want to curl up and disappear too.
Can I just tell you Glennon, that it is VERY hard to read your blog once I start crying. Which is usually about 1/2 to 2/3’s through your posts. Just sayin’. 🙂
Keep on doing what you do please. Thank you.