Step One

Honesty.

Admit that you, of yourself, are powerless to overcome your addictions and that your life has become unmanageable.

That right there is a pretty well-written sentence.

It sounds like a pretty good reason to seek help, right?

Your life has become unmanageable and such.

Addiction relieves more than just physical pain. It provides stimulation or numbs painful feelings or moods. It helps us avoid problems or feelings. It is our quick fix. Kind of like how BLT's were my quick fix when I was in junior high and would come home, cause a kitchen fire or two, and just bask in my BLT with grease dripping onto my home-sewn clothing... 

Addiction created lies and secrecy, hoping to excuse our behavior or blame others for judging us.

My addiction destroyed relationships and damaged others.

My life was unmanageable - like for reals - off the rails unmanageable.

Addictions are progressive and grow like a freaking morning glory bush in the front yard of the master gardener's home.

Pride and ego took over my life.

And I didn't even know it.

I can't wait to talk about pride.

I feel like there should be two letters at the end of my name, as if I walked across a stage wearing those yellow ropes to signify that I was so damn good at something that I get extra tassels to hang near my boobs that don't exist - 

Heidi Christensen, P.E.

P.E. = Pride Extraordinaress

Mmm hmmm.

Here's the thing:

I had NO clue that I was an addict.

I've discussed this,

I could identify people who were addicts for a living.

In fact, I considered making a career of pointing addicts out in lineups.

I was not only a Pride Extraordinaress, I was also Heidi Christensen, P.E., A.P.O.

A.P.O. = Addict Pointer Outer

And damn good at it, too.

The story of how I came to find out that I, in fact, must suck at being an Addict Pointer Outer because I missed the fact that I, in fact, am the Addict, is pretty pathetic.

First, my children's father - who I NEVER spoke to - sat down with me and NICELY said, 

"Heidi, do you think that you might have a problem?"

Because, let's all thank our lucky stars and such, my heart was completely shattered and in pieces that at this point are microscopic in size - I was able to hear what he was saying without being defensive or raging angry. I heard what he said. And, with tears rolling uncontrollably down my face - along with fake eye lashes (boy, am I glad there are no pictures from that day), I listened.

Then an hour later my brother, who I had pushed away like he was Diet Pepsi, came to my home.

He sat three feet from my face.

And said,

"Heidi. You are my sister and I love you. It's time to get help."

For the first time in our 41 years on this Earth together - because the twerp stole my first birthday - I agreed.

I nodded my head.

And for the first time, I said out loud these words: "I am an addict." 

The time had come for me when I was brought face to face with reality.

I could no longer hide my addiction by telling one more lie or by saying, "I got this."

The addiction had destroyed my life, and the lives of my loved ones - in particular my four warriors.

Being honest and vulnerable and raw and crazy forthcoming has been incredibly empowering for me.

I feel energized.

I feel worthy.

There are things that I tell - in particular my best friend (T) and my brother, Brandon - that they probably don't want to hear. But, I tell them anyways. 

And we carry on.

Tomorrow, I am going to talk about the imperativeness of dual treatment.