When I look back on the struggles I have overcome in my life, I am buoyed by the fact that I was never in it alone. In my darkest moments, I’ve had my family to lean on, a tried-and- true support system consisting of my loving parents, united in all things, including their love for me. My sister Lisa is also an invaluable part of this system; Taking on a kind of self-appointed responsibility, she’d often look out for me, her baby sister, as any good older sibling might. And when faced with the ongoing realities of my addiction, both in the struggles of youth, to reckless patterns that persisted into my 30s, my family was with me through it all.
Addiction can be a significant issue in the dynamics of any family, naturally leading to stress, infighting and lingering trauma. This was no different for my family. And while my destructive lifestyle could have easily torn us apart, instead, it brought us closer together. Like an alloy forged in the strongest of fires to produce an unbreakable steel, so too were our bonds strengthened having endured such trauma together.
Lisa was often embarrassed by my behavior, and from the beginning of high school, our relationship was challenged. Yet years later, when my son was born, she immediately assumed the role of aunt. Despite our differences, she was always there for my son, her profound love of him, her compassion and enthusiasm for the boy he was and the man he would become, filled me with an unwavering gratitude.
It was not until my recovery that we had the opportunity to truly reconnect and slowly begin to mend old wounds and address unaired grievances. At the time, Lisa was going through her own battle in the form of a prolonged divorce. Despite the two of us being embroiled in our personal struggles, we found our way back to one another, reclaiming a kind of sisterhood that I had previously thought lost to time. We were able to see one another in a new light, one rooted in understanding over frustration, empathy over apathy. We found strength and vulnerability in one another, as we worked in tandem towards our individual recoveries, separate yet shared.
My father’s concern for me manifested through fear and a need to assert control. Ever a man of action, he struggled with feeling powerless in my battle with addiction. Despite his best attempts, he could not shake me off the path I was on, no one could. This desperate bid to curb my behavior ultimately drove a wedge between us, severing a once powerful father-daughter bond. Like with my sister, it was only when I had taken steps towards recovery in earnest that we were able to repair this bond, I with the newfound strength of purpose to assuage my father’s fears and him, with a faith and pride in his daughter restored.
In the past, our family dynamic was one of hardship and strife. Our relationships were truly challenged leading up to my recovery, yet now our shared mentality has pivoted to a place of peace and acceptance. It is beautiful to once again see and be seen by the people that matter most to me. Our bonds, having been tested so, are stronger than ever for it. I am beyond grateful for these familial ties and recognize that my life would not be the same without their influence and support, guiding me through the storm back to clear blue skies.