For the last twelve weeks of her life, my daughter was a heroin addict. Every decision she made, every conscious though she had, every human interaction she came upon, was sourced from that hijacking of her brain. The ‘lizard’ part her brain, the part of her brain that told her, “ If you don’t do this… you cannot survive”.
For a year or so before that, my daughter was also an addict, desperate to find that, that would ease her soul, ease her pain, make her feel normal. Not opioids, not heroin, not needles. But an endless progression of substances that soothed her.
For the first 17 years of her life, my daughter was an addict without the ability to find that, that allowed her to feel soothed.
During this time; Kathrine loved to ski, but fell off the bunny slope lift… bless. Called Brussel sprouts “cabbage balls” , had a little thing going on in her hair that her daddy called a swirly. She swam with sharks, she loved to eat sushi, she protected those who were bullied and sneakily bought lunch for those who had none (with my money) She was adored, even though her card games sucked and Monopoly was not her thing! She had a sense of fashion and style. She loved me. For the rest of my life, I know I was loved completely by this child of mine.
Teenagers are supposed to be embarrassed by their parents. My child grabbed my hand every Sunday when we walked into HER church, not mine, and never let go.
She found love with a boyfriend and said the bar was set so high, she would never settle. Three years later, she settled. She told me that after seeing the pain and anguish on the faces of her dad and I, she would never put us through that again. She put us through that again… and again.
This is the horror of the addiction.
But Kathrine has always been so much more that her addiction. So much more.