Receiver of Lies by Lynn Sanchez

I grew up in an alcoholic family. That meant I had a full-time job of guarding that secret – and as a result, I lost my childhood. This can create a life of broken promises and lies and a feeling of not being enough to compel them to stop. I unfortunately never shared this with my children because I was an only child with only two living relatives, and I didn’t want my sons to be angry with my mother. As a result, they didn’t realize the heightened risk they were in for developing an addiction through genetics. Consequently, one of my sons became a victim of an addiction that took his life at age 50 after many years of valiant attempts to control the disease.   

The purpose of this essay is not pity or sympathy but clarification of what it is like to live with a person with an addiction in their lives. It is a reflection meant to help you feel seen and less alone. I will use the term Person With an Addiction (PWA) instead of the term addict because they are first and foremost a person. An addiction is not a choice but a disease that masks unmet mental health needs. With time we learn that addiction isn’t about wanting to get high. It is about wanting relief.

• Relief from anxiety that makes their chest tighten.
• Relief from depression that makes getting out of bed some days feel impossible.
• Relief from self-doubt and whispers that they are not enough.
• Relief from trauma they never spoke about.

   The substances weren’t the beginning. For a while they could wear a mask to hide the hell that was going on in their heads. One day the mask became too heavy, and they were unable to put it back on, so they began to rely on substances to cope, and that eventually spiraled into a disease. 

A family with a PWA in their life often feels like they are living with two versions of the same person — the one you know and love and the one the addiction keeps pulling away.

It usually begins with fibs that develop into bald-faced lies. To a liar, the altered lens on their eyes and the filter on their ears make their ongoing perception of the world around them make sense. The voice in their head gives them permission to continue their addictive behavior and cover it with lies. These thoughts and behaviors make perfect sense to them and the other people in their lives who hear the same compelling voices. They are no longer driving their own bus but have become a passenger who sits farther in the back with each lie and transgression.

Addictions come in all shapes and sizes. Certainly, substance abuse is the most visible, but people can develop an addiction to electronics, gambling, social media, exercise, food, work, etc. We have heard the expression about “being a wolf in sheep’s clothing” and that is what lying does. It covers who we are and why we are. It helps us make sense of an uncontrolled and unexplainable force that controls our thoughts and actions. Lies are a temporary plug in an ever-increasing hole in our lives. A quick fix that becomes a reality in our ongoing quest to make sense of how and why we manage our lives.

PWA’s are skilled liars. Reality and the consequences of their lies are no longer visible to them. They reside in an altered environment where their world and their actions make perfect sense to them. Lies are a temporary fix to an ongoing situation, a slippery slope that propels you to an inescapable place. Lies begin with ourselves and migrate into the lives of those around us.

One of the many side-effects of lies is guilt. When the fog of addiction clears, the reality of what lies have created evolves into guilt and an unrepairable sense of broken promises. Our son would describe the “Pink Cloud” after leaving recovery. Then, the FOG (Fear, Obligation, and Guilt) takes over. That reality is no longer something that you have the tools to manage. That reality has ebbed into an altered state of existence that we have created. It masks itself as protection from unmanageable thoughts and situations. It depletes our emotional energy.

Lies told by a PWA are a two-edged sword for the people in their lives. What if they are telling the truth this time? If I don’t believe them, am I discouraging them from being truthful? The risk of believing has a very high price tag. Believing lies creates within us a sense of stupidity and distrust and risk us being sucked into the altered reality. This sword leaves invisible, slow-healing scars. It slices and dices trust into something we no longer allow ourselves to feel.

Life with a PWA is a perilous journey full of potholes, detours, and brick walls. Metaphors such as a slippery slope, walking on thin ice or eggshells don’t begin to describe the hour-day-weeks-years journey that the family is trying to navigate.  Living with a PWA is not a temporary crisis but a prolonged state of uncertainty.  Love remains, but it becomes guarded.  Hope persists, but it is tempered by experience.  Families eventually confront a painful truth: Love alone cannot cure this disease.  Love never disappears entirely, but we tend to build walls around it to lessen our hurt and vulnerability. As a family member, love used to be enough and now it no longer works. All the tools in our toolbox have lost their ability to fix things!

 Stages Family Members Navigate 

   As a parent, spouse, friend or relative of a PWA, we find ourselves navigating the following stages:

• Shock – How can this be happening? It conjures feelings of inadequacy and naivety.
• Denial – This was a one-and-done event. I am making a mountain out of a molehill. This doesn’t happen in functioning relationships like ours.
• Anger – Directed at ourselves for being so unaware, and at the PWA for bringing this into our lives. With each relapse, the anger increases and seeps into our professional self, our family self, and our inner self.
• Jealousy and Isolation – Others’ lives seem so effortless while ours is a roller coaster ride of hurt and disappointment. Until you have lived with an addiction it is difficult to understand or identify what is going on in our lives.
• Enabling – We ask ourselves if how we are handling the situation is making it easy for the PWA to continue their lies and addictive behavior. The day of my mother’s funeral when our son called to tell us that he was living in a dumpster, I told him that it wasn’t his turn to be my priority. This was a real turning point in my enabling. I always believed that if I loved enough and said the right things, the addiction would end.
• Bargaining – A willingness to agree to almost anything if they will agree to go to rehab and meetings.
• Depression – A dark hole filled with water that we continue to try to swim out of until our arms, legs, and heart are rendered useless and we sink as the water encompasses us.
• Trial and Error – An ongoing quest to find ways to ride the horse of hope and trust until you hit the next brick wall.
• Normalization and Realization – Realization that you have a new normal in your life. Realization that you aren’t fighting a choice or a behavior but are fighting a disease.
• Relapses – Not a failure but the disease reasserting itself. The voices of addiction are convincing and unrelenting. They overshadow everything else you may hear or say. Their strength and impact are unparalleled. Quieting the voice involves giving in to the addiction. To quiet the ongoing hell in their heads, even for a short time, is worth the consequences.

Resentment comes from the lies, the chaos, the constant vigilance, the stolen family member and our lost sense of peace and predictability. It doesn’t mean you don’t love.  It means you are tired. A good question to ask is: “What pain are you trying to escape?” rather than “Why are you doing this to yourself and everyone who loves you?” 

 Recovery takes many forms and many detours. It isn’t something we can control. It isn’t something we can force or predict. It is something that we have to survive alongside our family member. The roller coaster doesn’t stop but we have to learn to ride it without losing ourselves entirely. We learn to set boundaries without withdrawing love, celebrate small victories without expecting permanence, accept setbacks without collapsing and hold on gently but not tight.  

Some questions that might be helpful in keeping the lines of communication open:

• What would be helpful for me to say to you?
• What can I do to support your recovery journey?
• What is not helpful?
• Ask permission to give advice: “I have a thought. Would you like to hear it?”  This can help to eliminate unwanted and unreceived communications.
• What needs to change in our physical and emotional environment?
• If verbal communication is strained, try a journal of open-ended questions.
• What do you need from me now that you are managing your addiction effectively?
• How will I know if what I am doing is not helpful?

You are not alone. You are not weak. You are allowed to take care of yourself!

Lynn Sanchez, M.Ed., is a longtime Eastern Shore educator and specialist in childhood development and parenting. She worked at Chesapeake College from 1986 to 2001, wrote “Behind the Brussels Sprouts,” and currently teaches through For All Seasons’ Center for Learning. She is also active in community organizations and local theaterPlease reach out with your feedback, stories and questions. My name is Lynn Sanchez and my email is: receiveroflies@gmail.com.