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Al Anon preaches about detachment, meaning to separate ourselves from the adverse effects that another person’s use brings into our lives. I can only assume whoever developed this theory didn’t have a child who shoots up heroin and meth.
If she had cancer, there wouldn’t be an expectation for me to detach from anything. In fact, society would frown on me if I did. Addiction isn’t different. She suffers from a disease, one that has been in my family bloodline for as long as I can remember.
My name is Erika, and I was born addicted to opioids. I’ve lived to see four generations of substance abuse in my family and for the first time at 46 years old, I’m in recovery. I’m learning to live a life that doesn’t revolve around someone else’s addiction, a life I’ve never known.
I’m not ready to share the events that led me to this place of awareness that I, wholeheartedly sober and somewhat sane, need help but the breakdown following this snapshot in time led me to three interactions that gave me the strength I needed to accept it and forge forward.
It was nearing midnight when my husband and I pulled into the Pilot Travel Centers’ parking lot…
