Coming clean

[Colonel Contin]

I gave up heroin roughly 112 days ago using suboxone and I've spent every moment of that time fumbling in the dark for some sort of peace.

I've divulged my back-story and outlined my history with opiates in other threads, so I'll forgo that tangent, but I will rewind just a little for context:

In retrospect, I guess I've led a moderately privileged life, and thanks to a generous, committed family, have been afforded the opportunity to pursue my passions along with a more-than-adequate education.

I moved out of state in my late twenties to attend graduate school, and fell off into heroin addiction in a state of isolation. When I decided to quit, my life had all but disintegrated into complete oblivion. I had receded so deeply into my addiction that I became convinced that there was no way to dig myself back out and settled for praying there was another side to the hole.

I was carrying so much shame while I was at my lowest that I slowly cut off contact with my friends and family. Within a few years, I found myself alone, save a handful of drug buddies. Real relationships faded into memory during this extended period of isolation, and I felt safe assuming that most of those bridges had all but withered. The very shame that drove me into isolation seemed to carry on seamlessly into my recovery, and I still can't bring myself to look a lot of people in the eye (the disappointed face of a love one can be a terrifyingly disarming mirror). I was left feeling hopeless and alone, certain that I'd decimated any glimmer of hope for happiness in my future.

I feel like I've done a pretty good job putting my life back together. I've been looking after my health, going to the doctor, seeing the dentist, attending counseling religiously, and even attending the occasional SMART recovery meeting. Luckily enough, I had finished all of my coursework just before I saw my lowest days, and as a result, I've retained the opportunity to complete my degree pending the completion and defense of a thesis project. I'll be the first to admit (now, anyway) that I landed in a relatively opportune position, but I still felt so hollow and guilty that, for quite some time, suicide seemed like a very realistic solution to escaping the mess I'd made. Every bit of progress gives me a lift and instills a bit of hope, but I haven't been able to shake this quickly shifting instability. I swing swiftly from a reassured state full of hope and rebirth into a state in which I am consumed by the fear that I've ruined my life and there's no escape. Both paradigms seem so real when I'm living them that the other seems as though it must have been a delusion. These shifts generally occur daily, almost like clockwork, and it's pretty much convinced me that I've gone insane. Recently I've been able to cling to positivity for longer periods, sometimes without slipping into a depressed state for multiple days, but I sometimes find myself trembling at the thought that I've just slipped deeper into one particular state of delusion (or denial).

Anyhow, some of my oldest and dearest friends have reached out to me recently, curious and concerned. I hesitantly revealed the severity of my affliction and slowly allowed myself to unload. The responses I've received have been positive and refreshing, and I'm starting to grasp the therapeutic value of 'coming clean'.

The problem I'm having is deciding how to treat my family in all of this. I've done such a good job passing my absence off as a bi-product of being busy and overburdened. They know I'm receiving psychological counseling and have respected my privacy to a shocking degree. At this point I've spared them the agony of having to witness me at my lowest and most desperate and have managed to find the strength to make it this far without throwing myself at their mercy. I just doubt sometimes that I'm strong enough to continue reclaiming my life without reaching out for their support. On some level I feel like 'coming clean' would lift a huge weight from my shoulders, but I know that the thought of me in such a state would break hearts and shatter trust (I was forced to split myself in two for a long time in order to conceal my addiction. I opened a second bank account, maxed out secret credit cards, took out secret loans and ultimately squandered the financial advantage my father put so much effort into assuring for me. This, of course, is my burden, but it feels like a betrayal and I'm ashamed of myself for it). I don't know what I should do. I traveled home recently when my sister gave birth to her new daughter (my new niece), and spent quite a bit of time with my family. I had resolved before I left to be honest without exception, but nobody is asking any questions. I feel like I could realistically conceal this dark, shameful part of my life from my family indefinitely without actually having to lie. It feels mildly deceptive to hide my pain from people so close to me, but on some level, it feels selfish to burden them with it. So long as I can hold it together and continue to stay focused, this almost seems ideal. I feel as though the truth will surface eventually, but it seems like the more mending I can manage in silence, the less painful that revelation will ultimately be. I just don't know if I have the strength to carry this without their support... I feel like I'm rambling, writing in circles even, but this is the state of mind I'm in and I can't shake it. I'm trying desperately to see the big picture... to 'do the right thing', but my thoughts and best intentions seem to betray themselves.

Any thoughts?

 

[pinpoint]

Nobody likes sharing the skeletons they've buried and we all have them to one degree or another. Don't ever buy the facade that people put on to try to convince you that their life is perfect. I've had a chance to get to know some ultra wealthy and affluent families.. I can tell you for a fact that the more perfect they appear the more fucked up they really are. Eventually the skeletons come out by some twist of fate or they end up bringing you back down in to the hole.

Whenever I don't want to do something that I know I have to do I go around and tell as many people as I can that I'm about to do what ever it is. The fear of social embarrassment motivates me to do what I must and do it well. I feel that this is applicable here. The more people that know about your past issues the more likely you'll be to stay on the right path for fear of failure while everyone is watching. You'll also gain tremendous respect from those who know you had a problem and are now succeeding in putting it behind you.

Good luck - I think you know what the right choice is, but only you can decide.

 

[herbavore]

I think that maybe a huge healing could take place for you when you allow your family to know the struggle you have been in. I think that what you fear in your exposure to your family is a reflection of how much guilt and shame you are still carrying about yourself in your own head. Maybe your sharing with your family can offer you the opportunity to learn to express all the parts of this struggle that still cause you shame and you can confront that and change it? Look in the metaphorical mirror and say," Why would I continue to define myself through the lens of weakness and shame when I have embodied all the courage and strength to battle this problem and am succeeding?"

I had nothing but respect for my son when he confronted his abuse. When he sunk back into denial I was afraid for him but I never lost respect for what he was trying to do (trying implies some success, some failure--its a process, not an outcome). I feel that you might be surprised to find out how your family might actually embrace your journey more easily than you do in your own head. This is why changing your thoughts is so important. You have done an amazing job of recreating your life. You have used the best parts of yourself to get where you are now--your honesty, courage and pure grit. Just keep building on those and seeing which thoughts contribute to these strengths and which thoughts undermine them.

I can honestly say from the 'armchair of age' that the somewhat trite sounding adage that our worst failures are our best teachers is not only true but deserves to be rephrased. I think there are no failures, just experiences. Once you have developed a relationship with yourself that is compassionate and honest at the same time, those old paradigms of binary judgment fall away pretty easily.