Sanity Defense
By: Tim Varner
Tags: Depression, Family, Addiction, Love, Recovery

Photo by sydney Rae on Unsplash

Defining a dollar poses impossible when you don’t have a dollar to your name. As an addict, I’ve spent more money on the success of my addiction than on the future of my family and me. Through the bottomless pits and highest highs my disease has brought to my life, I’ll never lose the sense of self-doubt. I put an innumerable amount of hours into my recovery, but when I disappoint my wife and children I feel all the penetrating thoughts rush back to my unsettled mind. Countless nights I lie awake (narcolepsy, another gift) and try to consolidate my thoughts, understandings, and rational into a burn pile. I want to be able to watch my depression and anxiety float away to space faster than it arrived in my life.

My children have suffered an incredible amount of grief and pain through my addition. Far more than I would wish on my worst nemesis. With arrests, incarcerations, and court uncertainty, I never could comprehend the words of departure. Having years of jail hanging over my head I would awake for court, kissing their nestled heads goodbye, I was always unable to fathom the ability to promise everything would be alright. As an addict, our promises don’t typically survive.

Never wanting my children to experience the torment and mental crisis the cold bracelets bring. I tried my best to ease their worried minds and put them back to sleep.

My wife has been with me through the toughest of times. She’s testified on my behalf being accused of bias remarks and fabricating the truth. Anyone who knows her will disagree, she is the most truthful and courageous woman I’ve ever known. She wants justice and fairness for all. Enduring the agony of cash flow I brought into her life, she has always stood with me. Keeping our home and family floating in the sea of unknowns I had developed. She has proven stronger than I could have ever known. Through my one faithless relapse and hours of withdrawals, she has never considered abandonment. (At least as far as I know ;-))

My parents as well have spent an incredible wealth on the pursuit of getting me sober. They have never once talked down to me or slapped me into shape. They’ve offered their support and understanding of what it means to be me. I wish everyone could experience the love my family gives me, even when I disintegrate all hope.

They all constantly say they “believe in me” which is hard for me to understand. If I don’t believe in myself, how can any faith be held? That was my thought before entering my treatment program and took a look from the outside in. I’m not a horrible person, I not a ruthless individual. I have a disease and like Joe Fraizer, my inner Ali needs to knock it down. The lion awaits inside all addicts, in recovery it sleeps. It’s up to us to wake that monster up or keep refilling its Ambien prescription.

When I look at my children’s smiles, indulge in conversation with my parents, or caress my gorgeous wife. I realize how precious life is and how I want to be around to enjoy it. Recovery is hard, putting down the bottle has proved to be one of my greatest trials. But every second I leave it alone is another second to cherish. ONE DAY AT A TIME.