Many of my work associates were able to either watch my brief interview online or on television yesterday. Most all of my co-workers who were able to view it, made it a point to stop by and say a few kind words or drop me an email offering support.
I still work in the same office that I worked in when I lost my Prince. Although there are one or two new faces, everyone here knows my story. However, after watching the show yesterday, three of my co-workers came to see me at separate times during the day and each shared personal stories with me of the ways that alcohol or drug addiction has touched their lives.
One spoke of the heroin overdose which took the life of her 21 year old cousins over 30 years ago, and how her grandmother wept for that beautiful boy every day until her own death. Another came to me with tears in his eyes thanking me for having the courage to share my story so publicly, and how he goes to sleep each evening thanking God that he has lived through another day without receiving a call informing him of his own dear cousin, who has always been like a brother to him, has overdosed. Lastly, my boss's assistant came to me and spoke lovingly of her 45 year nephew who is drinking himself to death. He has already done the institutions, prisons, rehabs and what not. His pretty wife had had it and is just mere moments away from packing up their two young boys and calling it day.
It reminded me all over again that I am not alone in this battle, and I was honored that these people felt comfortable sharing their experiences with me, and thanking me for reminding them that addiction isn't a dirty secret after all and my courageousness for going public with the Princes story encouraged them to speak out.
Oh Thank you Mr. Cooper, for giving me the opportunity to open a dialogue. For the first time in a long time, I feel my life may have some kind of purpose after all.
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9 comments:
There has never been a word said to me that has caused me to reget coming forth with my story of parentig and addict. The love that has expressed to me could overwhelm all.
I have watched your segment Kelly, haven't had time to watch the whole show yet but if parenting an addict had such an articulte spokesperson as you everywhere we wouldn't be fighting the battle of shame along with all the other heartache.
I can hear your strength in this post. Bless your heart!
The older I get, the more obvious it is to me we are all in this together...we are all connected.
I like to stick with other people (like you) who know this also.
You were brave, lady.
You are not alone. My son is an IV opiate addict. I hope I never get "the" call but go to bed every night praying that this is not the night. I saw your clip. You are very brave to stand up and say what you did. You spoke for a lot of us.
Praying for peace for us both.
I am so sorry about your son, 'your' Prince! I hold you in my thoughts and prayers.
Shelley in SK
Kel, I think that your life already had purpose. Maybe it was hard for you to see it. I am glad that the people at work opened up to you. When we speak our truth, it gives others courage to speak theirs. That is a powerful and helpful thing.
Kel, my heart breaks for you. I've always thought you were an amazing woman, and your courage in sharing your story inspires me.
Lots of love to you.
Syd is right. Your life had purpose before, but I'm so glad that you feel renewed in your life's journey and whatever the future roads have in store for you.
I wanted to let you know that I have lived what you have lived in regard to more than one of my childrens' choices. When Duane died of an heroin overdose at 19, I thought it would be a message to all of his friends and our family. However, 2 friends died that same year from heroin. And four more of my children, that I know of, have used drugs after their brother died. My reaction was much like yours - numbness, incredulity. I think I saved my daughter, she started with huffing and pot in freshman year, I pulled her out quickly and we moved to a tiny, backwards town with a very small school and very un-cool kids. We lived in a small cottage where we could hear each other breathe and it was in the boonies with no nearby stores, etc. A year of that, seemed to kick the stuffin' out of her. I don't know if it'd work for anyone else. Maybe I just lucked out. I love your courage - fight on!
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