Look Back, But Don’t Stare…

When I got up one morning, two days before Christmas, I was thinking of my Grandmother Gopoian. My grandmother was an amazing woman who brought people together during the holidays and created the Christmas memories that I cherish now more than ever. Thoughts of her always make me smile.

She was the one person who believed that I was worth saving and gave me a place to live off the street (1984). It wasn’t the end of my ripping and running, but Grandma Gopoian gave me hope, and she literally saved my life!

My heart belongs to Wallingford, CT (Yalesville), and I feel fortunate to have grown up there with the many opportunities provided by my grandparents. I was pushed through the school system with unaddressed learning disabilities and what I now know to be mental health challenges. After running away from home, the craziness that was happening in and outside of the house, drug use and dropping out of school at 16, I wonder somedays how things may have been different if anyone, including myself, had the awareness and courage to ask the hard questions and address the obvious. I look back less often now, and I try not to stare. My lived experience has brought me far, a long way from those days and since then, and I have worked very hard to earn multiple degrees and certifications. I look forward, bringing more great resources to the forefront in Wallingford and across CT this coming New Year and beyond.

There are so many people affected by the disease of addiction in Wallingford and in CT; the secrets have kept so many people sick and isolated. I have repeatedly said that the shame, guilt, and isolation are just as detrimental as the disease of addiction itself,, and that fuels me to want to break the cycle. I know there are more similarities than differences….remember, people do not usually use alone, and, more times than not, the story before the story is very much the same and generations old.

 

On July 13th, 1995, at the age of 32, I put down all substances, including alcohol and knew I could make a difference, in spite of the lack of services and the locals who told me otherwise. Fast forward back to today…it’s the holiday season, I just finished lunch and I’m taking the last needed pill for pain since my surgery on Monday evening. I’ll be using a Deterra Medication Disposal bag to get rid of the 6 unused meds. I hate the disease of addiction and the space it takes up in my head, it has had such a long lasting relationship with my depression, anxiety, family dysfunction, and trauma.

Becoming more informed about who I am, what has happened, what didn’t happen, and what I’ve now been diagnosed with is what I call, being dangerously informed, and in a backhanded sneaky way the disease of addiction tries to create additional layers of shame between me, my family, friends, and society.

The negative self-talk is still loud and berating…it says I shouldn’t talk about stuff, it says what happens in the house should stay in the house, it tells me the experiences I endured to fit in or to find the ways and means to get more drugs were my choice. I still want to escape, I don’t want to remember, don’t want to feel, or I desperately want to feel something… and as for having a choice long ago… trauma, chemical dependency and subsequent co-occurring mental health conditions took all that away.

In my current situation, the disease doesn’t know if I took the prescribed medication for a legitimate surgery or bought it off the street. I will be forever grateful for my recovery foundation. It taught me to prepare for this moment, and for this noise in my head. I woke up this morning, knowing that over the counter medication would be enough moving forward in my healing and that the medication wasn’t a freebie or a legitimate opportunity to use drugs, but yet, somehow, the noise in my head still makes me angry and makes me feel different.

Today, I’m baking my grandmother’s famous banana bread, and as always, when I take my first bite, it transports me back to Grandma Gopoian, her Sunday morning porridge, her unconditional love, and the moments of feeling safe when we were dropped off as children or when she rescued from the street. I’m not writing this to help people understand as much as I am writing it for those who do. This year, surround yourself with the people who know you are worth saving, because isolation is the enemy and Together We are Stronger!”

(Originally published in TriCircle’s newsletter, January 2022)