Five Years

It's been five years this month since the beginning of what I think of as Vanci's Last Stand against the NFOO.  I'd been orchestrating small rebellions against my designations and roles as caretaker, problem solver, black sheep, whipping girl and scapegoat for some time - mostly subconsciously at that point - but I hadn't really drawn any clear boundaries.  I capitulated a lot; I'd sort of draw a fluffy, wide, gray line and then give up when the clan members stepped on it, often immediately.

Five years ago this month, though, a concretely wrong situation took place and it became clear that my DD's were in danger.  NM's addiction to narcotics wasn't anything new, but her refusal to seek help (and ability to Houdini her way into more and more precarious situations with the mind-altering substances,) really reached a boiling point then.  Amazingly, even while actively drinking alcoholically, I was the single member of the NFOO who threw up a red flag and said, "Hey, we aren't prepared to deal with this, we have to seek professional help."  I'm giggling a little as a type this from my cozy and clear present day perspective, not because I find her addictions or the NFOO's insane reaction to it amusing, but because it's just so damn ludicrous.

I did what I was trained to do; I took care of things.  This was NM's second - that we know of - overdose binge in six months.  When I got the call that NM had taken 128 hydrocodone in 48 hours (which was roughly eight times the amount her quack pusher doctor had over-prescribed) while under 'constant' surveillance from the other four adults in the NFOO who all lived with her in the same house and were supposed to be monitoring her locked up drugs, it's just so damned funny that I didn't even stop to question that this was my problem to deal with.  Talk about brainwashed!

What's even more insane is that I made the only suggestion that had with it any possible hope of resolution; we need help here people.  And that the NFOO's reaction to that was a resounding NO.  At that point I wasn't even pushing for rehab or addiction counseling;  I would have settled for even a second opinion from a different doctor as a means to satiate my desire for things to change, probably regardless of that second opinion doctor's suggestion.  I was looking for anything to change, just anything.  And the NFOO unanimously agreed that my suggestion to seek help was wrong, and that 'they' (read: Vanci) would just keep on doing what we'd been doing while expecting a different result.

Even in my alcohol-soaked and brainwashed state, this incident made it clear to me that the only route for change that was open to me was to change myself.  I initially made a pretty weak move - so easy to see that in retrospect, but at the time it was the hardest thing I'd ever done - and simply stated (with DH) that if the NFOO's choice to deal with addiction was NOT to deal with it, my DD's would only be around them under my or DH's supervision.  And if that wasn't the shot heard round the world, I don't know what was.  I changed one thing; free access to my tender daughters due to rampant drug abuse.  In a normal and sane framework, it's clearly the right thing to do.  It's the only thing to do.  As my dear friend and brother-in-law said at the time, so simply and elegantly, "Vanci, addiction trumps EVERYTHING."  But not in crazy Narcland, oh no!

I had no right to change the rules of the game, in their opinions.  They hauled out every single piece of artillery and ammunition at their disposal and did their best to lay waste to me and my newly discovered strength.  The downward spiral of the end of my 'relationship' with NM, ENF, NOSis and GCYB was steep and swift, and that was the incident at the top of the slide.
I wish I could say that I took that initial stand of separation for my own benefit, but it wasn't the case.  At the time I truly didn't value myself enough to stand up for me, but at the very least I could stand up for the DDs, with DH's help.  And that, as they say, was the first step to freedom.

It got rough, and then it got rougher and then the entire flaming bag of dog poo that was my relationship with the NFOO just exploded all over the place.  And there I stood, covered in shit.

It took awhile to realize that I wasn't standing alone.  It took longer to reach out to those people who stood with me and longer still to trust them with my heart and hopes and my worth.  It took almost a year and a half after that incident five years ago for me to even realize that I had a bit of a teensy problem with addiction too, "Got the gene!" as DH used to say.  And once I wrung myself out, it took a lot of work and a lot of time to realize that this single incident five years ago was a catalyst for my expulsion from the NFOO, but it wasn't the reason in and of itself.  The abuse had been there... forever. My desire and ability to see it and understand it was a long time coming.

I'm thinking tonight, though, about that small crowd of supportive people who reached out to me, loved me and helped me walk through the darkest times.  There weren't many in number, but they were real and honest and caring and they kept me going.  Five years later, most of those people are still in my life; they're my tribe, my friends, my family of choice.  They love me for me and I love them for them.
I've changed in myriad ways for the better; stronger, sober, happier, more truthful, more real, funnier, clearer, and those wonderful people in my life have held my hand the whole way.  At times those people have dragged me kicking and screaming back onto the path and at times they've run to catch up with me, but they are a constant in my recovery and instrumental to my healing.

The NFOO remains almost exactly as they were five years ago with the sole exception that they can only blame me for their misery from afar.  My absence has created a far bigger hole in their lives than theirs has in mine, I'm certain of it.

Five years.  Five long years of digging and scraping and remembering and moving forward and helping and learning and healing and rejoicing and building and loving.

All these things, these feelings, this growth - all are only possible for me because I've been able to keep myself safe from the Crazymaker Clan for five years.

Hip hip hooray for five years of freedom!
Love,
Vanci