The Acid Test

My mom died 3 months ago. 

When I was in early recovery, I often thought of the acid test: “can we stay sober, keep in emotional balance, and live to good purpose under all conditions?”

I was young and thought of the many situations I would face like my wedding day, my 21st birthday, when I would have kids, and when my parents would die. These are all monumental events that we go through and it seemed impossible to think about living through all of this without using. The idea that I could suffer great loss and face grief without substances seemed entirely out of the question. 

Fast forward 7 years to April 2024, my mom was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer and I was a mere 5 months postpartum. From this point on, my life was spent taking my 2 small children to the oncology unit on a daily basis to allow my mom the pleasure of being “Grammy” in her final days. Her cancer was aggressive and viciously progressive, intensifying with each visit. She quickly went from the radiant women I knew all of my life, to someone so dismal and riddled with pain. She managed to fight for 3 months until we had to say goodbye. During this time, I did all of the things I learned throughout my recovery journey. I thought constantly of my mom and how we could make her final days somewhat enjoyable. I thought of my children and how I could create lasting memories for them despite the outcome. I thought of my dad and her sister and how I could bring comfort to them. We took pictures, ate lots of good foods, and shared joyous stories of the past. I prayed to my higher power and shared with my support group about what was happening. I allowed selflessness and service to take control and exude in all of my actions.

We were blessed to have wonderful oncology nurses and a great Hosparus care team who allowed us to process and say goodbye on our terms. I was able to explain to my oldest daughter what was to come, and just hours after my oldest said her goodbyes, my mom passed peacefully. As a daughter, I was heartbroken, but as a mother, I endured this tragedy for my children as well.

Dealing with these emotions is not something I can truly put into words, but what I can share is that I did not consider using substances to numb anything I felt. I do believe that I experienced the stages of grief in a unique way because of my moms diagnosis. Knowing the outcome shortly after receiving a diagnosis allowed me to process and begin grieving before my mom passed away, but it also gave me a sense of foreboding that I carry with me still today. As I felt grief in its entirety, I knew I didn’t want to drink or get high, but I knew I wasn’t okay. This was isolating for me as I thought if I wasn’t thinking about using substances then I must be fine. I continued to go to meetings, see my therapist, go to work, and care for my children. The world didn’t stop but my ability to function on a daily basis was dwindling. I couldn’t go much of anywhere without a sensation of impending doom and crippling anxiety. Mind you, I am now 8 months postpartum and I have never experienced any sort of grief like this, especially in recovery. I couldn’t go to the grocery, talking to anyone seemed unbearable, and a majority of my basic needs were no longer being met. I was in survival mode. I found that I was short tempered, entirely unable to rest, I got little to no sleep, and I began experiencing physical symptoms. 

After much discussion and realization, I was diagnosed with anxiety and prescribed 2 medications that now allow me to function daily. I still struggle to leave the house and I have to practice lots of coping skills when I am with my children. Some days are better than others, but not a day goes by that I don’t have to take time to process and align myself. My recovery laid a foundation for me to accept that “it’s okay not to be okay”, and without that I am sure I wouldn’t be standing on two feet today. 

3 months into my grief, I can say that I have not had to use any substances and I have continued to live to good purpose, though my emotional balance wavered, I never imagined I would be able to face something like this. This experience also taught me some lessons. I have learned to take nothing for granted, not a single thing. I learned that even if you are not okay, you will be, so long as you reach out, accept help, and continue doing what is placed in front of you. I learned that I am capable of more than I expected. And I now know that no matter what happens in life, I can stay sober, keep in emotional balance, and live to good purpose under all conditions.