Breaking Good
By: Kimberly Thompson
Tags: Relapse, Addiction, Relationships, Love And Sex, Codependency

Breaking Good

Opening my eyes and realizing what I had done. Again…….. sent my heart into a heightened beating and the awful awakening to face the hideous four horsemen of Terror, Bewilderment, Frustration and Despair. My mind clicked into full steam ahead__whats next? My four year old son lying next to me asleep, peaceful…thank god. I stand, head banging, still tired as though I had not slept at all. I probably hadn’t. The past year I had been living 5 inches off the ground. Existing out of my body, elevated, anxious, consumed, on high living off of hits from him, the latest manifestation of my dis-ease. The morsels of admiration, validation and praise were my drug and although I did not realize it at the time, i was a junkie…..an addict, and i had not had a hit in three days.

I went into the kitchen filled with horror and guilt for having drank and brought this negative energy into our home. Accessing the damage and looking for a beer to drink to calm my anxiety, I stopped, paralyzed by a flashback from the night before of me driving in the dark to the corner market to buy more alcohol. I had been completely blacked out with no thought of the speed I was driving down a residential street, or that if i were to get caught, my four year old son would be left alone in the house by himself. No, not a rational, mature thought existed in my head. I was full flight from reality, the original wound broken wide open fueled by self righteousness and king alcohol.

I find a beer in the refrigerator and trembling, crack it open, pressing the ice cold can to my lips. Taking that first drink of this new day, knowing that I would not be able to stop, followed immediately by the delusional thought that I would pace myself and all would be fine. I clean up a bit and checked my phone for text messages, phone calls either made or received and any emails I may have sent in my blacked out condition. I was mostly concerned with what I may have sent to “him”. He had become my CENTER, My Focus and life and value affirming reflection. Even though I was mostly happily married to a man who adored me and had the two most precious children I had always hoped and dreamed of, My disease told me I needed “more”….always ‘more”. I had no idea that need for MORE, more love, more attention, more praise, more admiration, more recognition, was the answer to everything I was looking for in my attempts to find peace and connection. The drinking, drugging, relationships, identity crisis, the loneliness and hurt, the unresolved abandonment and trust issues would become the portal of pain to joy and peace.

Two days later, waking to a cowbell, and the shuddering recollection of where I was, and what I had done. I remember sending the text, “accept all blame”, and thereby, on some level making an agreement with the demons within myself. Memories of the incident started flooding my mind like flashes of lights. My beautiful children tucked into their seats with their cozy blankets watching a movie, The Lion King. Then a flash of me driving recklessly through the steep canyon roads passing cars accelerating and dodging in and out of the lanes. A woman yelling at me, slamming my door. Me smoking a cigarette in front of my kids and my daughter saying, “nice mom”. Then a pain actually pierced my heart when I recalled what my children must have felt.

The sirens and lights finally bled through the loud music playing inside the car and it was over… I knew it. I didn’t even think twice, i just pulled over. I made a lame attempt to cover up the open container and the beer I had just purchased but I was spent and it was over. My sweet children had to watch while I did a sobriety test on the side of a busy highway where many people we know drive to and from the lake. They watched as they put me in the backseat of the cop car and as the daunting reality started to set in on my intoxicated brain I began to madly cry, moan and beg, but I could not raise a sound. I was in shock. It was silent gasping crying wailing…not a sound…some squeeks. They told me, no, you may not say goodbye to them, you lost that privilege and they are now in the custody of Valley county and they will be with the detectives until a family member can come and get them. You are going to jail.

Their faces looking back at me wondering where their mommy is, why has she gone away? Is she mad at us? They were very frightened and for me in that moment it was a nightmare that I had already lived through and now, looking through a veil of tears and glass at my children’s faces I saw that familiar inexplicable pain, fear, and absolute abandonment on their innocent faces that I knew all too well and had sworn an oath to never repeat. I put my face in the pillow and cry for that little girl that never had a chance. The little girl that was me at age 10 the same age as my daughter was the day this happened.

Coincidence? I think not…