#been juggling homeless and children lives not against my will but as close as It could probably legally come to it.

[elekid]

guys i just now opened discord for the first time in months

[tickletastic]

Everything’s Growing In Our Garden

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Ship: Thiam

Summary: Theo learns what it's like to finally have a family, and Jenna, David, and Liam are more than happy to help him along the way.

Living with the Dunbar-Geyers was… different for Theo, to say the absolute least.

Before the dread doctors, he was always coming second to his sister. He was sick, and asthmatic, and terrible at sports. Tara was the star of her middle school’s soccer team, and in the off-seasons she juggled piano lessons and debate team. Theo had things of his own: he did dance when his asthma wasn’t acting up, and he could write circles around the other kids thanks to his reading addiction, but it was never enough for his parents. They wanted trophies and medals to show off, and cute pictures in uniforms, and Theo could just never give them that. He didn’t really understand it as a kid. He thought that most kids were vying for the attention of their parents and Tara was just an exception. He wanted to feel special too.

When the dread doctors enticed him to join them, they had made him feel special. They said that he was so unique for being chosen by them, and once he gave them what they needed he could have everything he ever wanted.

The doctors never fulfilled their promises. Instead, Theo was threatened on a daily basis, and prodded with needles and x-rays until he was blue in the face.

Theo never did feel special. At least, not until he started living with Liam and his parents.

Liam was constantly around, bubbly and jumpy as always, making sure Theo was comfortable. Liam spent two days trying to figure out the perfect plan to convince Theo to move in when he found out that Theo was homeless. In the end, he took the easy way out and stole Theo’s truck. He refused to return the keys until Theo promised he would take the Dunbar-Geyers’ guest bedroom.

Liam’s parents welcomed him with open arms. They both did everything they could to make sure that Theo would be comfortable after Liam described the older boy’s flighty nature to them. It wasn’t hard for either of them, they both took a liking to the boy instantly, and Jenna found it easier than Liam had described to read Theo’s emotions. Mothering a teenage boy will do that to you.

Dr. Geyer loved talking biology with Theo. He even offered Theo an internship at the hospital before the Geyers had found out that Theo needed to graduate high school. The second the doctor came home, he would often talk with Theo while helping Jenna with what was left of dinner. The two of them got along very well, and Dr. Geyer found it refreshing discussing medicine with someone who wasn’t a colleague.

Jenna and Theo had many, many things in common: they both loved to read, they both loved to cook, and they both loved to annoy Liam to wit’s end. Jenna was actually one of Theo’s favourite contemporary authors before the two had even met, and he would be embarrassed to admit to the fanboy moment he had when they first met. Jenna had written a popular fantasy children’s series under her maiden name, Tate, before transitioning into adult fiction under her current name. Liam hadn’t even known that Theo was a fan of his mom until Theo met her. Jenna barely had time to introduce herself before Theo was turning bright red and gushing: “I have read Noire Kingdom seven times!” Jenna laughed, and Liam swore that he would never let Theo live it down. Liam quickly learned not to mention it when his mom and his new housemate had started to gang up on him with the teasing.

It was really strange to Theo to be treated like he was part of the family. It was weird to have two parent-figures that had grown to love him. Theo didn’t really know what he imagined parents to be like. He couldn’t remember much of his own, and fake parents never quite fit the bill.

Dr. Geyer was understanding and pensive. He would check in on Liam and Theo when the security bell would alert his phone of their homecoming, and he would bring home sweets from the bakery near the hospital once a week. When Theo first arrived he had believed it was already a tradition: Dr. Geyer would bring home an assortment of treats every week; tarts for Liam, muffins for Jenna, cookies for himself, and an assortment of others. One week, Dr. Geyer’s usual box of goodies changed from an assortment to just four. The tarts, muffins, and cookies remained the same, but instead of the usual variety of extra sweets, there were sprinkled donuts. Dr. Geyer never mentioned it, so Theo never did figure out how the doctor had realized they were his favourite. It wasn’t until months after that Liam let it slip that the sweets hadn’t been tradition before Theo’s arrival, but his dad had instead decided to create new traditions to include Theo.

Dr. Geyer showed his affections through small, silent acts of kindness, and even that was a bit overwhelming for Theo.

Jenna? Well.. some of her maternal habits were kind of strange, Liam was completely willing to admit it. He had filled Theo in on a few of them:

- Simply for her own peace of mind, Jenna would try to make Liam smile at least once a day - Jenna called Liam by his first name only when she was angry, otherwise, it would always be some variation or nickname, and last but not least; - Jenna packs Liam’s lunch, always slipping a little note into it

Theo didn’t really see what the point was in Liam telling him all of this, after all, Theo was definitely not planning on passing judgement on the woman who had given him a home.

Theo didn’t understand until he had been helping Jenna cook dinner one day.

“Baby face, could you pass me the flour?”

Theo hadn’t heard Liam, or even smelled Liam enter the house, so he turned to the entrance of the kitchen, his brow furrowed. When he turned around, the entrance was empty, the house only occupied by Theo and Jenna, as expected.

Theo’s brow furrowed, and he looked over at Jenna, who was humming peacefully as she mixed the dough in front of her. She looked up at Theo when she realized he had yet to pass her the ingredient.

“Theo, sweetheart: the flour?”

Even Theo’s crazy ability to hide his emotions couldn’t help the furious blush that made its way over his face. He nodded frantically before turning around and handing Jenna the bag of flour.

“Are you okay, honey? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Theo nods frantically again, “yup, perfectly fine, Mrs. Geyer.”

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Jenna?” She tuts before continuing dinner.

Some of the nicknames do get absurd, but others are so cute and fond that they force a blush to rise over Theo’s cheeks no matter how many times he’s called them.

Theo finally understands why Liam felt the need to fill him in on all of the strange maternal habits that Jenna has developed when Theo opens his backpack one morning, finding a brown paper bag in it. He eyes it strangely, but it doesn’t smell suspicious... In fact, it smells delicious.

Three periods later, Theo sits down for lunch with Liam and the puppy pack, taking out the bag and placing it on the cafeteria table in front of him, eyeing it with suspicion. He’s so deep in wonder that he doesn’t even notice when Liam stops his conversation with Alec mid-sentence, eyeing Theo with the same suspicious look that Theo is giving the bag.

“Dude, it’s just the lunch my mom packed for you, I promise she didn’t lace it with wolfsbane or anything.”

Theo scowls, looking down in an attempt to hide his embarrassment. When he finally does open the bag, the effort to hide is rendered completely worthless as he reads out the note written on a heart-shaped sticky note stuck to the container of his sandwich.

The rest of the table certainly notices, and Corey, the little shit that he is, grabs for the note, tearing it straight from the container.

“Have an amazing day at school, sweet boy. I know you’ll do perfect on your biology midterm. Xoxo Jenna.”

Theo grabs for it, but of course, that doesn’t stop Corey from reading it out to everyone else present at the table. His face is bright red, and Liam jokingly leans in to pinch his cheek. Theo glares before hastily grabbing the brown paper bag, getting up and tossing his backpack over his shoulder as he grumbles under his breath.

The moment that Liam realizes that he has forgotten to fill Theo in on everything comes a moment too late, but Liam ends up being grateful in the end.

Jenna has a habit of touching her family on whatever body part happens to be closest to her. Liam thinks that she doesn’t even know that she’s doing it, it has just always been a calming ritual for her. Usually, it would be a normal body part, she would scratch Liam’s scalp while asking him about his day at school, or she would rub David’s shoulder while asking him to pick up groceries. Today, David was on a shift at the hospital and, while Jenna was actively working on her next novel, she was home for the time being. It was after school on a weekday, so she figured she could spare the night away from her office to feed her favourite boys.

When the two teens had arrived home, they had greeted Jenna in the kitchen before heading to the living room. Liam had gravitated to the floor directly in front of the TV, playing video games on his PS4, and Theo had gravitated to the couch behind the younger teen. Liam was sitting with his back against the couch, and Theo was curled up on the couch, trying his hardest to keep his eyes open despite his long day at school.

Jenna rounded the couch from the kitchen, standing next to Liam in front of the couch. She started to absentmindedly scratch Liam’s head, and he leaned into the touch, practically purring. She stopped when she realized that Theo’s eyes were closed, and she cleared her throat. Theo’s eyes squinting back open.

“Hey, kiddo, long day at school? You should head up and take a nap before dinner,” Jenna started, smiling softly at the boy that she now considered her second son. “What do you want for di-”

Jenna was interrupted by a frantic giggle from Theo, as he quickly rushed to cover his face with his hands. Liam hadn’t been paying much attention, but he starts to when the sweet sound of Theo’s laughter floats through the air.

While she had been preparing to ask Theo what he wanted for dinner, her hand had wandered down to his socked foot, pulling at his toes without even realizing.

Jenna repeats the action and smiles fondly when Theo tries to curl up, calling out through giggles, “Jenna!”

She stops when the boy tries to scramble off the couch, moving her hand to his shoulder in a calming effort to ensure that he stays comfortable. She can’t help but coo, the flush on Theo’s cheeks worsening in response. “That’s adorable.”

Liam was confused as to what had happened, his back to Theo, until Jenna had rounded the couch and leaned over to whisper in Theo’s ear, “don’t worry, Liam’s ticklish too.”

Now both Liam and Theo were blushing, Liam because his mother had revealed his secret, and Theo because Jenna’s words could confirm Liam’s suspicions of his own sensitivity. When she pulls away, she ruffles Theo’s hair. “What do you want for dinner, honey?”

Theo stammered for a moment, his brain a cloud of embarrassment and anticipation, “could we have pasta?”

“Of course, babydoll.” Jenna walks back into the kitchen, Liam sure that she would make bowtie pasta since it seemed to be Theo’s favourite, even though Liam preferred rigatoni.

As much as Theo would like to test out Liam’s ticklishness, his tired brain doesn’t even think of it until Liam is pinning him to the couch, his game abandoned completely as Brett and Alec’s voices sound out through his headset.

Theo had a nervous smile on his face, his tiredness still unceasing. Liam was grinning like he had just discovered Atlantis. “You’re ticklish? Mom’s right, that is adorable.”

Theo couldn’t prevent the blush that grew to line his cheeks. He shook his head, his voice breathy in anticipation, “I mean, not r-really?”

“‘Not really’ as in you’re not ticklish?” Liam pinched Theo’s ribs, the older boy writhing beneath him, “or ‘not really’ as in you’re not adorable? ‘Cus they both seem to be true according to my information.”

Theo had gripped Liam’s wrists and was attempting to push them further away without trying to push Liam off altogether, failing horribly. Liam had always been stronger, though the chimera was usually faster, not only on his feet but with his mind as well.

Theo groaned, a look in his eyes that Liam couldn’t quite place, a look that would’ve signaled that Theo was frustrated had he been with anybody else but Liam. “If you’re going to insist on doing this, can we just get it over with? I’m exhausted Li.”

“Sorry babe, I’m about to make it worse.”

Theo didn’t even have the time to respond to the abnormal nickname before he was trying his very best to stay silent. As good as he had always been at handling interrogation methods, the dread doctors never did teach him how to handle this. He was trying to make his brain think quicker, but his thoughts were starting to fog up. He tried to decide between masking his chemosignals and masking his heartbeat, but his heart had quickly betrayed him in its pace.

He had always found it so easy to mask his heartbeat and chemosignals, it had always come so easy to him, but trying to hold in his laughter while hiding his chemosignals felt like he was running a marathon. He thought that he was doing a pretty good job until he saw the wicked smile on Liam’s face.

He wondered what kind of chemosignals he was sending out, because the only thing that he felt was panic. Liam’s fingers poked over his toned tummy, wiggling and twitching against Theo’s skin. He couldn’t let his laughter escape him, he needed to have at least one thing under control, but he was quickly losing it beneath the younger boy.

Theo almost bucked Liam off entirely when his fingers moved to his ribs, absolute terror running through his mind. He didn’t even realize he was shaking his head until Liam’s own beautiful laugh cut through the air.

“No, Theo? No what? What is it that you don’t want me to do?”

Theo frantically reached around, managing to grab both of Liam’s wrists and pushing them away ever so slightly, forcing Liam to stop. Liam just looked amused, a hint of glee in his eyes and a soft, pleased smile on his lips with his head quirked to the side.

Theo wanted to grimace, but instead he couldn’t stop a smile from spreading across his own face, breathy giggles escaping as he tried to reason. “Liam. Li. Just leave me alone. If you keep touching me then I swear I’ll make you regret it. I will break your nose in more ways than you could even count. I will-”

Liam stretched his fingers and wiggled, the corner of his lips further quirking when Theo let out a soft giggle when Liam’s fingers barely even brushed Theo’s skin. Liam’s fingers were just barely close enough for Liam to do anything but brush Theo with the very tips of his nails, yet there were enough to get the chimera on edge. “I swehehear I will- Holy shihit Liam don’t!”

Jenna was swift with her scorn, a quick call of ‘Theodore Karl Raeken’, reminding Theo to watch his language. In a swift movement Liam had gathered both of Theo’s wrists into one of his hands and pinned them above his head. It was enough to catch Theo off guard, giving Liam time to surprise him with his newly planned attack.

Theo’s eyes crinkled at the corners, and he started to giggle despite himself. Liam was also hit with a wall of scent as Theo unknowingly lost control of his chemosignals. Liam felt something warm simmer in his chest, and he let it bloom until he found himself momentarily releasing Theo’s wrist and reaching for his phone. He opened his phone to his desired application and tasered Theo, snapping a quick photo as the chimera squeaked, his nose scrunching up in a way that made Liam’s heart skip. When the distinct snapping resounded from Liam’s phone, he was hit by the distinct scent of embarrassment from Theo.

“Delete it!”

“I really don’t think you’re in a position to be making any demands, T.”

Liam’s fingers resumed their scritchy scratching over Theo’s ribs: stuttered, carefree giggles softly flowing from the older boy.

Theo’s laughter adopted a panicked tone the higher that Liam’s fingers rose. A spot between two of his top ribs had him snorting softly, words completely dying in his throat. When Liam’s hands slipped under Theo’s arms, his eyes, which had been just barely open, shot wide, giving Liam a look similar to his own infamous puppy-dog eyes.

“Fuck, Liam stahap!” Theo’s laughter had risen an octave, and Liam was satisfied that he had been able to force the older boy to lose control. Liam hadn’t realized until now how satisfying it would be to see Theo as anything other than completely calm and collected.

Theo had gone limp for a moment when Liam had been tickling his ribs, but now his fight was back in full force. Theo had managed to pull his wrists down from Liam’s hold and was now desperately flailing his arms in defense as Liam poked and tickled wherever he could reach.

“Aww, someone’s a giggly mess.” red hot embarrassment scented through the open air once again as the colour of Theo’s cheeks began to rival that of tomatoes.

Theo had his head thrown back, his eyes shut as he blindly tried to defend himself. Could Deucalion train him on this? Liam took a moment to quickly film a video on snapchat, making a mental note to send it to Mason as proof that Theo, the big, bad chimera of death, does in fact giggle, and he looks pretty fucking cute while he’s doing it.

Liam had admittedly gotten a little carried away with tickling Theo silly, not even detecting another heartbeat near him until there was nimble, knowing fingers poking him in the tummy from behind.

“H-hey!” Liam fell backwards onto his back on the couch, bringing his knees up in an attempt to curl up while his mother hovered over him, rapidly poking him in one of his most sensitive areas.

“I think it’s time that you let Theo get his nap, don’t you think?” Jenna threw a wink Theo’s way that he just barely caught as he curled in on himself, still giggling softly.

Liam nodded frantically as a cacophony of sounds spilled from his lips: snorts, squeals, and cackles. To Theo, he resembled a turtle stuck on its back, desperately trying to flip over, as Liam flailed his arms in an attempt to protect himself. “Okahahay, mom! I’ll leave Theo alone!”

“That’s more like it!” Jenna exclaimed, blowing a raspberry to Liam’s neck before backing away. “Dinner will be ready soon boys, hope you’re hungry.”

Jenna walked back into the kitchen while Liam recovered, scratching and swatting at himself as if he could still feel his mother’s fingers. When he finally sat up, a small smile breached his face. Theo was curled up in a ball, facing the inside of the couch, fast asleep.

His breathing was slow, and his expression was soft and worry-free. Liam could once again feel the familiar flutter in his chest as he reached for the throw blanket folded on the arm of the couch, softly placing it over Theo as the boy softly snored.

A year ago, Theo barely felt safe sleeping in Beacon Hills at all, but now, Liam was glad that he finally had a place to call home, and that he finally had people he could call family.

[terminaent]

WELCOMING: OH “LIENA” NANA

CAREER INFORMATION: ━✧ SIGNED: March 12th, 2007 ━✧ DEBUT: June 14th, 2014 ( solo ), January 19th, 2010 ( CREEP ) ━✧ GROUP: CREEP ━✧ POSITION: Lead Dancer, Sub Vocalist, Center of Group  ━✧ VOICE CLAIMS: Park Hyomin, Lee Nana, Yoona ━✧RAP VOICE CLAIMS: Hyohyeon, Meng Jia

SOLO DESCRIPTION

Oh Nana, known professionally as Liena Glamour, or mononymously known as Liena, is a South-Korean singer, songwriter, record producer, poet, philanthropist. She is first known as Creep’s ninth member. Taking the position of Treachery: Lead Dancer, Sub Vocalist, Center of Group. Her solo music has been noted by critics for its stylized cinematic quality, its preoccupation with themes of tragic romance, glamour, and melancholia, and its references to pop culture, particularly 1950s and 1960s Americana. 

 Born and raised in poverty, she had no foundations of basic vocal training, and dance lessons until she was scouted by Termina Entertainment, working in a flea market in Dongdaemun-gu, Seoul. From then on, she juggle in both working for a living, and training to be an idol. Her vocal coach admires her raw, unpolished vocals, and praised her for the good quality of her voice, despite not being the vocally strongest in the pool of trainees. Her weapon was her vocal technique. It is something that the coaches don’t want her to lose.   

She was put under Creep, who at that time was only a project group. She became the center of the group due to her outstanding visuals. She was mostly recognized by her face, and not her vocals which was very upsetting for her. She knows she’s not vocally strong as the others at that time, but she at least wanted to be acknowledged by the fans for her voice. There are times where she would ask the other members to train with her  in order to improved. It was until Creep officially became a permanent group in Termina, where she found new hope that there will be years to show her improvement and growth to the fans. 

 Four years after Creep’s debut, Liena made her solo debut. It was self-produced, self-directed as the company wanted her to have freedom to express her music, and tell her story with no one’s help. The goal is for it to be raw, and real. Liena's musical sound has been dubbed "Retro sadcore" by music critics. She elaborated on this in an interview, saying "I wasn't even born in the '50s but I feel like I was there. I write my songs based on my past, and my family’s past, whilst setting it way way back." 

Associated with several styles, Liena's music has been tagged broadly as dream pop or baroque pop, linked to various forms of rock, indie music, and trip hop, and often touching on styles such as hip hop, and psychedelic rock on particular releases. Liena's subsequent releases would introduce variant styles, which employed a guitar-based sound akin to psychedelic and desert rock. She sings about old cars, money, and the bad boys she's always falling for, and while there remains a sepia-toned mid-century flavor to many of these songs. Upon the release of her comeback album, one reviewer characterized Liena's body of work as being "about music as a time warp, with her languorous croons over molasses-like arrangements meant to make clock hands seem to move so slowly that it feels possible, at times, they might go backwards." 

 Liena has been described as a "self-styled gangsta Nancy Sinatra,” “Lolita lost in the hood,” or a “Young stepford housewife who’s heartbroken and ready to murder his cheating husband.” And although it wasn’t well received in mainstream K-pop in Korea for not having an edm, tropical house, or hip hop sound, her music had crossed over internationally, specially in the west. 

BIOGRAPHY

Oh Nana wasn’t born with a silver spoon on her mouth. She lived in poverty with parents who have no stable jobs and more inclined with drug use, and criminal activity. She wasn’t even a planned child. She was the fruit of a one night stand hookup between a reckless hooker and a drunkard, drug addict who works for one of Seoul’s biggest drug lords. Her parents only got married because of her unexpected entry to their directionless lives and unstable relationship. Growing up, she was always the one to blame by both of her parents. Words like ‘Why did I even gave birth to you?” or “Because of you, our lives became worse!” had been heard by her at a young age. For a young age, she had to learn how to grow up and adapt to everyone and everything around her. She learned new things everyday, from good to bad things, just by listening to how her parents argue and talk. 

The good thing that came out of it is that despite all those bad things, is that she has a good heart and soul. Her home life was less than pleasant. Subjected to abuse from both of her parents for most of her life both physical and emotional. Nana tried everything she could to gain the approval of her abusive parents but nothing she ever seemed to do worked. She was only used by her parents to work at a very young age, with no support from both. They only care about the money she’s getting, just so they can use it for their drugs, alcohol and illegal gambling. 

Nana finally gave up trying to please her abusive parents and ran away from home at the age of fourteen. She found somewhat of a home in an abandoned house that was home to squatters and drug addicts and sure it wasn’t pretty, there was no running water, no electricity, and the floor was always covered in broken needles, but this house had something that her abusive home didn’t have. Friends. 

Jinhee and Seokwoo were both were around the same age and who were all going through the same things as Liena and they became close friends. Extremely close friends. It wasn’t normal to see one without the other. Seokwoo was like the little brother that Nana never had and she became very attached to the sweet young kid, where as Jinhee was just like her. She felt an immediate connection to Jinhee. Jinhee became the only person Nana felt she could really trust. Although he could trust Seokwoo too, there were just some things Nana couldn’t tell Seokwoo to spare what little innocence he had left in him. Jinhee and Nana were always getting up to odd jobs together, until their money is enough for the three of them to have a decent apartment together. 

Unlike Jinhee who was always engrossed in her studies trying to get good grades to make a better life for herself and her brother, Nana was only there to get away from her parents, and to pursue a career in music. Something about writing songs and singing just clicked with her. It was relaxing, and  it helped her get out most of her anger whenever  she was frustrated. It became her passion. 

However one day, January 13th to be exact she woke to find Seokwoo and Jinhee gone from her life. Run off in the middle of the night as Jinhee so often said she was going to do. Nana had always thought she’d be going with them to god knows where having a better life is easy to get. Feeling betrayed that the only two people in her life that she trusted had upped and left her without even saying goodbye, she became depressed. She was about to give up, but she already went too far in life with all the struggles she had before just to give up easily. Nana is a fighter. 

One day, whilst working on a flea market selling cheap ice-cold juice drinks, a scouting agent from Termina Entertainment captured her attention after hearing her sing while selling the drinks. She was then approached and as soon as she saw the business card, she saw a light of hope that there is an escape to the hard life that she has. She have nothing to lose so she took the courage and auditioned in Termina. She started training and learned new things. She was diligent and hardworking during her trainee years, despite struggling to be on the same level as the other trainees who had trained before her. 

She trained for over a year and a half before being placed in Creep. She debuted in Creep with the stage name of Liena, which means “a woman as beautiful as a lotus flower” which fits perfectly with her background and life struggles. She is a beautiful lotus flower that always looks so clean and pure against the background of the dirty muddy pond. She became a household name when she debuted as a soloist in 2014, and was known for her pure and beautiful heart through her philanthropy. She knows the struggle and she wanted to help others who are in the same position as she was back then. 

Liena  launched the Lotus Flower foundation in 2014, a non-profit organization that focuses on youth empowerment. The foundation had allowed her to tour in schools over South Korea to speak against bullying. In 2015, Liena joined 200 high school students, policy makers, and academic officials, to discuss ways to recognize and channel emotions for positive outcomes and fight online harassment. Her second solo album’s proceeds were donated to  foundation that helps bring food and relief to the homeless. Her foundation also aims to help children with respiratory diseases. Her foundation has been active since its inception andhas helped thousands of children with special needs. Liena is also an LGBT icon, being a strong supporter for the passage of Korea Equality Foundation, which provides protections on the basis of sexual orientation, gender identity, and expression. 

With all her success in both as soloist and as a Creep member, she remained thankful and humble. She also went to visit her parents again and forgave them. She encouraged and helped her parents to stay away from their vices and provided them a new home and built a restaurant for them to work and manage, whilst helping with her foundations as well.

While being in Creep and a soloist, Liena was placed in a sub unit called Pastel Goth where she can showcase her talents in a whole new image, giving her the nickname of "Creep's Chameleon." In the unit, her image was drastically changed into a more cutesy vibe. She was the center, Vocalist, and Lead dancer for the sub unit. Pastel Goth released two singles throughut their career, namely Magic Girl and Aing! before they got discontinued by Termina due to the members' schedule conflicts.

[carinaconnor5]

Be Somebody

What picture comes to your mind when you think of an alcoholic? A homeless person under the bridge? Or a well-situated housewife, mother, or church member in suburbia driving a newer SUV? What do you think a heroin user looks like? Do you picture a young adult who is homeless, jobless, or panhandling in the metro in dirty clothes? Or do you picture the football star of your daughter’s high school, who asked her out for prom, from well-known family in town, son of a lawyer and a doctor who just got his first Mercedes? Fact is, all of these pictures are true.

Alcoholism and addiction are not just a problem for the under-privileged and under-educated. Alcoholism and addiction are pounding on everyone’s door.

Armed with that information, think of who might need your attention and help, not your isolation or stigma. Don’t shut your doors to those that struggle, or this epidemic will get worse and worse. It sometimes takes a village to help people get back on their feet. You could be the one who start it by opening your door to the one that has nowhere else to go.

Instead of shielding your children from the world, so they can’t get in touch with the “wrong people”, be the one that has information, healthy boundaries, an open door without judgement, but full of help and support. If a young person is in trouble, don’t forbid your children further contact with that person, but welcome him to a talk, offer support, or seek a conversation and tell him that he’s welcome if he turns his life around.

We all have that perfect friend that seems to have it all in a row. The daily juggle of housework, maybe a job, maybe kids, husband, home, cooking, cleaning, church and charity. What you don’t know is what happens behind closed doors. For a very long time, I was able to keep that picture upright. I bought enormous amounts of alcohol, but I spread it in a very organized way between several liquor stores, so it never looked suspicious, so I thought. Looking back I’m pretty sure that people knew what was going on, especially if they saw me drinking my way “down the shelf”. (“Down the shelf” means that expensive brands like Chevas Regal or 12-year-old malt whisky are usually at eye height in the upper shelves. At the end of my alcoholism, I was drinking those plastic half gallon bottles, which are usually near the floor board.)

At first, I drank because I loved that feeling of warmth and escape. I loved going to bed with the right amount of booze in my blood that made me tired and restful and heavy. Your mind turns off, your thoughts disappear and you float into dreamless sleep. It has been many years since I had that feeling, but I still chased it. The last years, I drank to stop the tremble in my hands, to wake up, and to function in the mornings. And at night, it was not cozy anymore, it was me passing out with little memory of the evening, most times. To the outside observer, I kept my face nice and only left my home when I was in a good state. Most people who knew me didn’t see a person with a drinking problem– they saw my mask.

I was a prisoner in my own house. I was too afraid to get a DUI to drive drunk, and when you are most often drunk, you don’t drive anywhere. (My husband worked long hours, most of the time six days a week, so me and my cat were the ones that shared life, day in and day out. I recently lost my cat, it was the hardest thing for me. She was by my side in the worst years of my alcoholism and addiction and the first years of my recovery. I can’t imagine that I would have been able to do it without her at some days, she was my rock and emotional stability when my life shattered. My husband was my biggest support and did everything for my recovery, but my cat was the unconditional love that never left my side.)

I isolated myself from the world, since I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror. Needless to say, I didn’t want anybody else to see me that way. Today, If I look at pictures from that time, I’m in true shock.

During my addiction to certain pill, and my alcoholism, I was the woman next door to you, the one who seemed to have it all together. I was the one that waved to everyone on the way to town, that mowed the lawn (1/3 at a time, since I was unable to be in the sun that long as I would have passed out), that ate healthy, grew tomatoes, and loved the flowers in her front yard. My house was clean; my car was shiny.

The outside picture was fine, but nobody was supposed to know how I look inside. I did not reach out for help, because I felt too embarrassed by my own actions. My level of shame and guilt over my drinking was unbearable, my actions and behavior didn’t match my outfit, or my morals and values. It was the worst way to live.

When it comes to addiction or alcoholism, it doesn’t matter why that person got addicted. I often hear, “It’s his own fault. Nobody forced him to take it.” and similar sentences. First of all, most people in addiction started well before their 15th birthday. Nobody can say that, for example, a 12-year-old made a well-informed decision when he took his first drink or drug. Before he gained any form of maturity, he was already a full-blown addict.

Others get prescriptions for pain (for example, after a surgery) and little they know, they would end up as addicts and eventually buy it on the street. But even if someone could be said to be at a responsible age and got into it with full knowledge, who am I to throw the first stone? It’s like telling someone who lost all his belongings in a house fire that he is an irresponsible, unreliable person, because he fell asleep with a candle lit. Was it his fault? Yes, but losing everything in a fire is still a tragedy, isn’t it? Let’s stop blaming, and start helping. Break that stigma and stop judging. It doesn’t matter why, addicts need help.

I don’t have an excuse or want an excuse why I am an alcoholic and addict. But I know one thing very clearly: While becoming addicted was not entirely within my control, it is my responsibility to do something about it. When I’m a diabetic, I need to go to the doctor, get my medicine, and keep a diet. As a severe alcoholic just before dying, I needed treatment, medical help, meetings, and to keep away from mind-altering substances. I followed my treatment plan and have not relapsed (so far) in seven years of sobriety. I didn’t do it alone.

We can only get better as a society and win the fight against addiction if we get back together as a community and remember what we can do for each other.

We need to stop judging our neighbors, but be a community that reaches out. We need to stop living side-by-side without interaction and be neighbors again that care for each other. Families have to stop pointing the finger toward the “black sheep”, but get together to figure out how they can help and find a way got get their lost loved one back on a healthy track.

If you don’t know how to help, maybe just give the person our phone number: 888-312 4220 and tell him you will support him if he decides to get help. Calls are free, confidential, and no strings attached. It’s an easy way to ask about a way out of the dark place. Parents and other relatives are welcome to call as well to get tips and help.

Today, I know that somebody has to take care about it. And I am somebody. I hope you are somebody, too. Be Somebody, help somebody.

We do recover. Susanne Johnson

The post Be Somebody appeared first on Heroes in Recovery.

from http://heroesinrecovery.com/blog/2017/10/20/be-somebody/

[cristinavpaintings]

Be Somebody

What picture comes to your mind when you think of an alcoholic? A homeless person under the bridge? Or a well-situated housewife, mother, or church member in suburbia driving a newer SUV? What do you think a heroin user looks like? Do you picture a young adult who is homeless, jobless, or panhandling in the metro in dirty clothes? Or do you picture the football star of your daughter’s high school, who asked her out for prom, from well-known family in town, son of a lawyer and a doctor who just got his first Mercedes? Fact is, all of these pictures are true.

Alcoholism and addiction are not just a problem for the under-privileged and under-educated. Alcoholism and addiction are pounding on everyone’s door.

Armed with that information, think of who might need your attention and help, not your isolation or stigma. Don’t shut your doors to those that struggle, or this epidemic will get worse and worse. It sometimes takes a village to help people get back on their feet. You could be the one who start it by opening your door to the one that has nowhere else to go.

Instead of shielding your children from the world, so they can’t get in touch with the “wrong people”, be the one that has information, healthy boundaries, an open door without judgement, but full of help and support. If a young person is in trouble, don’t forbid your children further contact with that person, but welcome him to a talk, offer support, or seek a conversation and tell him that he’s welcome if he turns his life around.

We all have that perfect friend that seems to have it all in a row. The daily juggle of housework, maybe a job, maybe kids, husband, home, cooking, cleaning, church and charity. What you don’t know is what happens behind closed doors. For a very long time, I was able to keep that picture upright. I bought enormous amounts of alcohol, but I spread it in a very organized way between several liquor stores, so it never looked suspicious, so I thought. Looking back I’m pretty sure that people knew what was going on, especially if they saw me drinking my way “down the shelf”. (“Down the shelf” means that expensive brands like Chevas Regal or 12-year-old malt whisky are usually at eye height in the upper shelves. At the end of my alcoholism, I was drinking those plastic half gallon bottles, which are usually near the floor board.)

At first, I drank because I loved that feeling of warmth and escape. I loved going to bed with the right amount of booze in my blood that made me tired and restful and heavy. Your mind turns off, your thoughts disappear and you float into dreamless sleep. It has been many years since I had that feeling, but I still chased it. The last years, I drank to stop the tremble in my hands, to wake up, and to function in the mornings. And at night, it was not cozy anymore, it was me passing out with little memory of the evening, most times. To the outside observer, I kept my face nice and only left my home when I was in a good state. Most people who knew me didn’t see a person with a drinking problem– they saw my mask.

I was a prisoner in my own house. I was too afraid to get a DUI to drive drunk, and when you are most often drunk, you don’t drive anywhere. (My husband worked long hours, most of the time six days a week, so me and my cat were the ones that shared life, day in and day out. I recently lost my cat, it was the hardest thing for me. She was by my side in the worst years of my alcoholism and addiction and the first years of my recovery. I can’t imagine that I would have been able to do it without her at some days, she was my rock and emotional stability when my life shattered. My husband was my biggest support and did everything for my recovery, but my cat was the unconditional love that never left my side.)

I isolated myself from the world, since I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror. Needless to say, I didn’t want anybody else to see me that way. Today, If I look at pictures from that time, I’m in true shock.

During my addiction to certain pill, and my alcoholism, I was the woman next door to you, the one who seemed to have it all together. I was the one that waved to everyone on the way to town, that mowed the lawn (1/3 at a time, since I was unable to be in the sun that long as I would have passed out), that ate healthy, grew tomatoes, and loved the flowers in her front yard. My house was clean; my car was shiny.

The outside picture was fine, but nobody was supposed to know how I look inside. I did not reach out for help, because I felt too embarrassed by my own actions. My level of shame and guilt over my drinking was unbearable, my actions and behavior didn’t match my outfit, or my morals and values. It was the worst way to live.

When it comes to addiction or alcoholism, it doesn’t matter why that person got addicted. I often hear, “It’s his own fault. Nobody forced him to take it.” and similar sentences. First of all, most people in addiction started well before their 15th birthday. Nobody can say that, for example, a 12-year-old made a well-informed decision when he took his first drink or drug. Before he gained any form of maturity, he was already a full-blown addict.

Others get prescriptions for pain (for example, after a surgery) and little they know, they would end up as addicts and eventually buy it on the street. But even if someone could be said to be at a responsible age and got into it with full knowledge, who am I to throw the first stone? It’s like telling someone who lost all his belongings in a house fire that he is an irresponsible, unreliable person, because he fell asleep with a candle lit. Was it his fault? Yes, but losing everything in a fire is still a tragedy, isn’t it? Let’s stop blaming, and start helping. Break that stigma and stop judging. It doesn’t matter why, addicts need help.

I don’t have an excuse or want an excuse why I am an alcoholic and addict. But I know one thing very clearly: While becoming addicted was not entirely within my control, it is my responsibility to do something about it. When I’m a diabetic, I need to go to the doctor, get my medicine, and keep a diet. As a severe alcoholic just before dying, I needed treatment, medical help, meetings, and to keep away from mind-altering substances. I followed my treatment plan and have not relapsed (so far) in seven years of sobriety. I didn’t do it alone.

We can only get better as a society and win the fight against addiction if we get back together as a community and remember what we can do for each other.

We need to stop judging our neighbors, but be a community that reaches out. We need to stop living side-by-side without interaction and be neighbors again that care for each other. Families have to stop pointing the finger toward the “black sheep”, but get together to figure out how they can help and find a way got get their lost loved one back on a healthy track.

If you don’t know how to help, maybe just give the person our phone number: 888-312 4220 and tell him you will support him if he decides to get help. Calls are free, confidential, and no strings attached. It’s an easy way to ask about a way out of the dark place. Parents and other relatives are welcome to call as well to get tips and help.

Today, I know that somebody has to take care about it. And I am somebody. I hope you are somebody, too. Be Somebody, help somebody.

We do recover. Susanne Johnson

The post Be Somebody appeared first on Heroes in Recovery.

Source: http://heroesinrecovery.com/blog/2017/10/20/be-somebody/

[robertgcurtis]

Be Somebody

What picture comes to your mind when you think of an alcoholic? A homeless person under the bridge? Or a well-situated housewife, mother, or church member in suburbia driving a newer SUV? What do you think a heroin user looks like? Do you picture a young adult who is homeless, jobless, or panhandling in the metro in dirty clothes? Or do you picture the football star of your daughter’s high school, who asked her out for prom, from well-known family in town, son of a lawyer and a doctor who just got his first Mercedes? Fact is, all of these pictures are true.

Alcoholism and addiction are not just a problem for the under-privileged and under-educated. Alcoholism and addiction are pounding on everyone’s door.

Armed with that information, think of who might need your attention and help, not your isolation or stigma. Don’t shut your doors to those that struggle, or this epidemic will get worse and worse. It sometimes takes a village to help people get back on their feet. You could be the one who start it by opening your door to the one that has nowhere else to go.

Instead of shielding your children from the world, so they can’t get in touch with the “wrong people”, be the one that has information, healthy boundaries, an open door without judgement, but full of help and support. If a young person is in trouble, don’t forbid your children further contact with that person, but welcome him to a talk, offer support, or seek a conversation and tell him that he’s welcome if he turns his life around.

We all have that perfect friend that seems to have it all in a row. The daily juggle of housework, maybe a job, maybe kids, husband, home, cooking, cleaning, church and charity. What you don’t know is what happens behind closed doors. For a very long time, I was able to keep that picture upright. I bought enormous amounts of alcohol, but I spread it in a very organized way between several liquor stores, so it never looked suspicious, so I thought. Looking back I’m pretty sure that people knew what was going on, especially if they saw me drinking my way “down the shelf”. (“Down the shelf” means that expensive brands like Chevas Regal or 12-year-old malt whisky are usually at eye height in the upper shelves. At the end of my alcoholism, I was drinking those plastic half gallon bottles, which are usually near the floor board.)

At first, I drank because I loved that feeling of warmth and escape. I loved going to bed with the right amount of booze in my blood that made me tired and restful and heavy. Your mind turns off, your thoughts disappear and you float into dreamless sleep. It has been many years since I had that feeling, but I still chased it. The last years, I drank to stop the tremble in my hands, to wake up, and to function in the mornings. And at night, it was not cozy anymore, it was me passing out with little memory of the evening, most times. To the outside observer, I kept my face nice and only left my home when I was in a good state. Most people who knew me didn’t see a person with a drinking problem– they saw my mask.

I was a prisoner in my own house. I was too afraid to get a DUI to drive drunk, and when you are most often drunk, you don’t drive anywhere. (My husband worked long hours, most of the time six days a week, so me and my cat were the ones that shared life, day in and day out. I recently lost my cat, it was the hardest thing for me. She was by my side in the worst years of my alcoholism and addiction and the first years of my recovery. I can’t imagine that I would have been able to do it without her at some days, she was my rock and emotional stability when my life shattered. My husband was my biggest support and did everything for my recovery, but my cat was the unconditional love that never left my side.)

I isolated myself from the world, since I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror. Needless to say, I didn’t want anybody else to see me that way. Today, If I look at pictures from that time, I’m in true shock.

During my addiction to certain pill, and my alcoholism, I was the woman next door to you, the one who seemed to have it all together. I was the one that waved to everyone on the way to town, that mowed the lawn (1/3 at a time, since I was unable to be in the sun that long as I would have passed out), that ate healthy, grew tomatoes, and loved the flowers in her front yard. My house was clean; my car was shiny.

The outside picture was fine, but nobody was supposed to know how I look inside. I did not reach out for help, because I felt too embarrassed by my own actions. My level of shame and guilt over my drinking was unbearable, my actions and behavior didn’t match my outfit, or my morals and values. It was the worst way to live.

When it comes to addiction or alcoholism, it doesn’t matter why that person got addicted. I often hear, “It’s his own fault. Nobody forced him to take it.” and similar sentences. First of all, most people in addiction started well before their 15th birthday. Nobody can say that, for example, a 12-year-old made a well-informed decision when he took his first drink or drug. Before he gained any form of maturity, he was already a full-blown addict.

Others get prescriptions for pain (for example, after a surgery) and little they know, they would end up as addicts and eventually buy it on the street. But even if someone could be said to be at a responsible age and got into it with full knowledge, who am I to throw the first stone? It’s like telling someone who lost all his belongings in a house fire that he is an irresponsible, unreliable person, because he fell asleep with a candle lit. Was it his fault? Yes, but losing everything in a fire is still a tragedy, isn’t it? Let’s stop blaming, and start helping. Break that stigma and stop judging. It doesn’t matter why, addicts need help.

I don’t have an excuse or want an excuse why I am an alcoholic and addict. But I know one thing very clearly: While becoming addicted was not entirely within my control, it is my responsibility to do something about it. When I’m a diabetic, I need to go to the doctor, get my medicine, and keep a diet. As a severe alcoholic just before dying, I needed treatment, medical help, meetings, and to keep away from mind-altering substances. I followed my treatment plan and have not relapsed (so far) in seven years of sobriety. I didn’t do it alone.

We can only get better as a society and win the fight against addiction if we get back together as a community and remember what we can do for each other.

We need to stop judging our neighbors, but be a community that reaches out. We need to stop living side-by-side without interaction and be neighbors again that care for each other. Families have to stop pointing the finger toward the “black sheep”, but get together to figure out how they can help and find a way got get their lost loved one back on a healthy track.

If you don’t know how to help, maybe just give the person our phone number: 888-312 4220 and tell him you will support him if he decides to get help. Calls are free, confidential, and no strings attached. It’s an easy way to ask about a way out of the dark place. Parents and other relatives are welcome to call as well to get tips and help.

Today, I know that somebody has to take care about it. And I am somebody. I hope you are somebody, too. Be Somebody, help somebody.

We do recover. Susanne Johnson

The post Be Somebody appeared first on Heroes in Recovery.

from RSSMix.com Mix ID 8241845 http://heroesinrecovery.com/blog/2017/10/20/be-somebody/

[pedrorsmith]

Be Somebody

What picture comes to your mind when you think of an alcoholic? A homeless person under the bridge? Or a well-situated housewife, mother, or church member in suburbia driving a newer SUV? What do you think a heroin user looks like? Do you picture a young adult who is homeless, jobless, or panhandling in the metro in dirty clothes? Or do you picture the football star of your daughter’s high school, who asked her out for prom, from well-known family in town, son of a lawyer and a doctor who just got his first Mercedes? Fact is, all of these pictures are true.

Alcoholism and addiction are not just a problem for the under-privileged and under-educated. Alcoholism and addiction are pounding on everyone’s door.

Armed with that information, think of who might need your attention and help, not your isolation or stigma. Don’t shut your doors to those that struggle, or this epidemic will get worse and worse. It sometimes takes a village to help people get back on their feet. You could be the one who start it by opening your door to the one that has nowhere else to go.

Instead of shielding your children from the world, so they can’t get in touch with the “wrong people”, be the one that has information, healthy boundaries, an open door without judgement, but full of help and support. If a young person is in trouble, don’t forbid your children further contact with that person, but welcome him to a talk, offer support, or seek a conversation and tell him that he’s welcome if he turns his life around.

We all have that perfect friend that seems to have it all in a row. The daily juggle of housework, maybe a job, maybe kids, husband, home, cooking, cleaning, church and charity. What you don’t know is what happens behind closed doors. For a very long time, I was able to keep that picture upright. I bought enormous amounts of alcohol, but I spread it in a very organized way between several liquor stores, so it never looked suspicious, so I thought. Looking back I’m pretty sure that people knew what was going on, especially if they saw me drinking my way “down the shelf”. (“Down the shelf” means that expensive brands like Chevas Regal or 12-year-old malt whisky are usually at eye height in the upper shelves. At the end of my alcoholism, I was drinking those plastic half gallon bottles, which are usually near the floor board.)

At first, I drank because I loved that feeling of warmth and escape. I loved going to bed with the right amount of booze in my blood that made me tired and restful and heavy. Your mind turns off, your thoughts disappear and you float into dreamless sleep. It has been many years since I had that feeling, but I still chased it. The last years, I drank to stop the tremble in my hands, to wake up, and to function in the mornings. And at night, it was not cozy anymore, it was me passing out with little memory of the evening, most times. To the outside observer, I kept my face nice and only left my home when I was in a good state. Most people who knew me didn’t see a person with a drinking problem– they saw my mask.

I was a prisoner in my own house. I was too afraid to get a DUI to drive drunk, and when you are most often drunk, you don’t drive anywhere. (My husband worked long hours, most of the time six days a week, so me and my cat were the ones that shared life, day in and day out. I recently lost my cat, it was the hardest thing for me. She was by my side in the worst years of my alcoholism and addiction and the first years of my recovery. I can’t imagine that I would have been able to do it without her at some days, she was my rock and emotional stability when my life shattered. My husband was my biggest support and did everything for my recovery, but my cat was the unconditional love that never left my side.)

I isolated myself from the world, since I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror. Needless to say, I didn’t want anybody else to see me that way. Today, If I look at pictures from that time, I’m in true shock.

During my addiction to certain pill, and my alcoholism, I was the woman next door to you, the one who seemed to have it all together. I was the one that waved to everyone on the way to town, that mowed the lawn (1/3 at a time, since I was unable to be in the sun that long as I would have passed out), that ate healthy, grew tomatoes, and loved the flowers in her front yard. My house was clean; my car was shiny.

The outside picture was fine, but nobody was supposed to know how I look inside. I did not reach out for help, because I felt too embarrassed by my own actions. My level of shame and guilt over my drinking was unbearable, my actions and behavior didn’t match my outfit, or my morals and values. It was the worst way to live.

When it comes to addiction or alcoholism, it doesn’t matter why that person got addicted. I often hear, “It’s his own fault. Nobody forced him to take it.” and similar sentences. First of all, most people in addiction started well before their 15th birthday. Nobody can say that, for example, a 12-year-old made a well-informed decision when he took his first drink or drug. Before he gained any form of maturity, he was already a full-blown addict.

Others get prescriptions for pain (for example, after a surgery) and little they know, they would end up as addicts and eventually buy it on the street. But even if someone could be said to be at a responsible age and got into it with full knowledge, who am I to throw the first stone? It’s like telling someone who lost all his belongings in a house fire that he is an irresponsible, unreliable person, because he fell asleep with a candle lit. Was it his fault? Yes, but losing everything in a fire is still a tragedy, isn’t it? Let’s stop blaming, and start helping. Break that stigma and stop judging. It doesn’t matter why, addicts need help.

I don’t have an excuse or want an excuse why I am an alcoholic and addict. But I know one thing very clearly: While becoming addicted was not entirely within my control, it is my responsibility to do something about it. When I’m a diabetic, I need to go to the doctor, get my medicine, and keep a diet. As a severe alcoholic just before dying, I needed treatment, medical help, meetings, and to keep away from mind-altering substances. I followed my treatment plan and have not relapsed (so far) in seven years of sobriety. I didn’t do it alone.

We can only get better as a society and win the fight against addiction if we get back together as a community and remember what we can do for each other.

We need to stop judging our neighbors, but be a community that reaches out. We need to stop living side-by-side without interaction and be neighbors again that care for each other. Families have to stop pointing the finger toward the “black sheep”, but get together to figure out how they can help and find a way got get their lost loved one back on a healthy track.

If you don’t know how to help, maybe just give the person our phone number: 888-312 4220 and tell him you will support him if he decides to get help. Calls are free, confidential, and no strings attached. It’s an easy way to ask about a way out of the dark place. Parents and other relatives are welcome to call as well to get tips and help.

Today, I know that somebody has to take care about it. And I am somebody. I hope you are somebody, too. Be Somebody, help somebody.

We do recover. Susanne Johnson

The post Be Somebody appeared first on Heroes in Recovery.

from RSSMix.com Mix ID 8241846 http://ift.tt/2goTh19

[danbarkerusa]

Be Somebody

What picture comes to your mind when you think of an alcoholic? A homeless person under the bridge? Or a well-situated housewife, mother, or church member in suburbia driving a newer SUV? What do you think a heroin user looks like? Do you picture a young adult who is homeless, jobless, or panhandling in the metro in dirty clothes? Or do you picture the football star of your daughter’s high school, who asked her out for prom, from well-known family in town, son of a lawyer and a doctor who just got his first Mercedes? Fact is, all of these pictures are true.

Alcoholism and addiction are not just a problem for the under-privileged and under-educated. Alcoholism and addiction are pounding on everyone’s door.

Armed with that information, think of who might need your attention and help, not your isolation or stigma. Don’t shut your doors to those that struggle, or this epidemic will get worse and worse. It sometimes takes a village to help people get back on their feet. You could be the one who start it by opening your door to the one that has nowhere else to go.

Instead of shielding your children from the world, so they can’t get in touch with the “wrong people”, be the one that has information, healthy boundaries, an open door without judgement, but full of help and support. If a young person is in trouble, don’t forbid your children further contact with that person, but welcome him to a talk, offer support, or seek a conversation and tell him that he’s welcome if he turns his life around.

We all have that perfect friend that seems to have it all in a row. The daily juggle of housework, maybe a job, maybe kids, husband, home, cooking, cleaning, church and charity. What you don’t know is what happens behind closed doors. For a very long time, I was able to keep that picture upright. I bought enormous amounts of alcohol, but I spread it in a very organized way between several liquor stores, so it never looked suspicious, so I thought. Looking back I’m pretty sure that people knew what was going on, especially if they saw me drinking my way “down the shelf”. (“Down the shelf” means that expensive brands like Chevas Regal or 12-year-old malt whisky are usually at eye height in the upper shelves. At the end of my alcoholism, I was drinking those plastic half gallon bottles, which are usually near the floor board.)

At first, I drank because I loved that feeling of warmth and escape. I loved going to bed with the right amount of booze in my blood that made me tired and restful and heavy. Your mind turns off, your thoughts disappear and you float into dreamless sleep. It has been many years since I had that feeling, but I still chased it. The last years, I drank to stop the tremble in my hands, to wake up, and to function in the mornings. And at night, it was not cozy anymore, it was me passing out with little memory of the evening, most times. To the outside observer, I kept my face nice and only left my home when I was in a good state. Most people who knew me didn’t see a person with a drinking problem– they saw my mask.

I was a prisoner in my own house. I was too afraid to get a DUI to drive drunk, and when you are most often drunk, you don’t drive anywhere. (My husband worked long hours, most of the time six days a week, so me and my cat were the ones that shared life, day in and day out. I recently lost my cat, it was the hardest thing for me. She was by my side in the worst years of my alcoholism and addiction and the first years of my recovery. I can’t imagine that I would have been able to do it without her at some days, she was my rock and emotional stability when my life shattered. My husband was my biggest support and did everything for my recovery, but my cat was the unconditional love that never left my side.)

I isolated myself from the world, since I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror. Needless to say, I didn’t want anybody else to see me that way. Today, If I look at pictures from that time, I’m in true shock.

During my addiction to certain pill, and my alcoholism, I was the woman next door to you, the one who seemed to have it all together. I was the one that waved to everyone on the way to town, that mowed the lawn (1/3 at a time, since I was unable to be in the sun that long as I would have passed out), that ate healthy, grew tomatoes, and loved the flowers in her front yard. My house was clean; my car was shiny.

The outside picture was fine, but nobody was supposed to know how I look inside. I did not reach out for help, because I felt too embarrassed by my own actions. My level of shame and guilt over my drinking was unbearable, my actions and behavior didn’t match my outfit, or my morals and values. It was the worst way to live.

When it comes to addiction or alcoholism, it doesn’t matter why that person got addicted. I often hear, “It’s his own fault. Nobody forced him to take it.” and similar sentences. First of all, most people in addiction started well before their 15th birthday. Nobody can say that, for example, a 12-year-old made a well-informed decision when he took his first drink or drug. Before he gained any form of maturity, he was already a full-blown addict.

Others get prescriptions for pain (for example, after a surgery) and little they know, they would end up as addicts and eventually buy it on the street. But even if someone could be said to be at a responsible age and got into it with full knowledge, who am I to throw the first stone? It’s like telling someone who lost all his belongings in a house fire that he is an irresponsible, unreliable person, because he fell asleep with a candle lit. Was it his fault? Yes, but losing everything in a fire is still a tragedy, isn’t it? Let’s stop blaming, and start helping. Break that stigma and stop judging. It doesn’t matter why, addicts need help.

I don’t have an excuse or want an excuse why I am an alcoholic and addict. But I know one thing very clearly: While becoming addicted was not entirely within my control, it is my responsibility to do something about it. When I’m a diabetic, I need to go to the doctor, get my medicine, and keep a diet. As a severe alcoholic just before dying, I needed treatment, medical help, meetings, and to keep away from mind-altering substances. I followed my treatment plan and have not relapsed (so far) in seven years of sobriety. I didn’t do it alone.

We can only get better as a society and win the fight against addiction if we get back together as a community and remember what we can do for each other.

We need to stop judging our neighbors, but be a community that reaches out. We need to stop living side-by-side without interaction and be neighbors again that care for each other. Families have to stop pointing the finger toward the “black sheep”, but get together to figure out how they can help and find a way got get their lost loved one back on a healthy track.

If you don’t know how to help, maybe just give the person our phone number: 888-312 4220 and tell him you will support him if he decides to get help. Calls are free, confidential, and no strings attached. It’s an easy way to ask about a way out of the dark place. Parents and other relatives are welcome to call as well to get tips and help.

Today, I know that somebody has to take care about it. And I am somebody. I hope you are somebody, too. Be Somebody, help somebody.

We do recover. Susanne Johnson

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