Refusing Jade.

I keep fighting the urge to apologize for how dreary my blog posts have been lately, but then I remind myself you come here freely and then I feel less guilty about the genuine out pour of my sad heart. Do not be mislead though…there is still plenty of light and love in this corner of the internet. 😉

That being said…there is a season for everything, right? This is my time to mourn I suppose.

…Today was the second time in the past six months that I have taken someone in for treatment for alcohol/drug addiction. I get a call…and then a text…and then another call…”I’m in a bad place.” And I know…somehow I know.

Let me clarify…I am not an interventionist. In case you got confused for a moment. A Marriage and Family Therapist in the making, yes. An intern that works with detoxing addicts and psychotic people, yes. Interventionist, no. 

When I enter my friend’s apartment and she face plants into the couch, mumbling words that I cannot interpret I know I am in trouble. I entered the room, my hand in my pocket, locked around mace. I’ve been here before. You have no idea how these types of things will go. [Side note: Mace was not used in this crisis.] She cried and cried and apologized; the depth of her shame, defeat, and misery screaming out through her bloodshot eyes. I sat and listened. She couldn’t look at me she told me. The shame too much to bear in the light of what she knows of my life and thinks about who I am. Every movement I made was wrong. I went to get tissues and she said, “no. Don’t!” So I didn’t. I asked if I could touch her…she said no by words, but her eyes pleaded for me to not take her seriously. So she cried…and I rubbed her back. That made her cry more. 

She drunkenly confessed to things that I’m not sure others know she feels. Her pain pouring out from every pore. 

Eventually, we decided she needed to go detox and find some treatment. The alcohol (that was probably slid under the couch as I walked in the door) catching up to her minute by minute. She could barely walk and we barely made it into the door of the hospital. 

I had to call her mom and husband…why she called me I couldn’t exactly tell them. Maybe because she simply knew I was safe, had been through it before, and would get her where she needed. But I am still not positive. 

I could hear her husband’s voice change, a subtle shift I know too well, as he realized it was not the voice of his wife calling from his wife’s phone. Panic. Fear. Sadness. It was there. I tried to calmly explain to him what happened, why she was there, what happened at the hospital, and what he needed to do…but I knew I could only do so much to calm the storm my words had just elicited within.

It was bizarre…and exhausting. At the end of the day…when my schedule had been turned topsy turvy at 11:45 am, when I had allowed myself to cry all the way home…I had to stop and catch my breath.

Again…my cry to God, “how is there so much pain, fear, heartbreak, and sadness in this world?”

Knowing already that I’ve been given all the answers I’ll be given for the day. 

My mom says my day is exhausting. My employer says, “well, shit, Emily.” My case manager says, “yep, get used to it.” And I think…am I destined to become jaded by the pain of the world? Will I come to expect the worst around every corner? Could this be the moment that I turn into Eeyore? When I no longer love the way the lightning illuminates the sky for just a moment and the way the thunder seems to connect with my heartbeat if for only a second…and I am constantly in dread and fear of the storm looming ahead?

At the end of the day, I shake it off. I look to the sky. I embrace the cool wind against my face. I snuggle with a puppy that is fluffy and always good for the soul. I accept hugs from a mother whose love is completely unconditional. I stop wishing for a different reality and face the one in front of me. Yes, the world is cold and cruel. Yes, it is also wholesome and beautiful and full of joy. The laughter of a loved one brings me back to reality and for just another day…I know I am held. I am safe. 

The journey continues. 

~~~~~

Yes, my soul, find rest in God;

    my hope comes from him.

[Psalm 62: 5-8]