Promise You’ll Be There Fighting the Addiction With Them

I’m guessing, since I’ve had a couple decades of life on this planet, it doesn’t come easy. We’re built to withstand those pernicious things that may come into our lives — things like trauma, depression, even pain can be detrimental to our overall health. But what about a family member?

I don’t mean the existence of them being in your life; what about their health? Their daily struggle that’s hard for an outsider to witness? Their personal problem? Their addiction? Right now, my brother has an afflicting issue.

I would be the first and even the last to say I love this man to the core of his being, because I know that many aren’t fond of him. Though I wondered: do they know about the struggle with his substance issue? Or do they only perceive him as someone that lies and scams others: friends, family, mother, brothers, and me? I would always hope this wasn't true.

Before discovering his problem nearly 10 years ago, his actions spoke louder than his words, his repeated words, his words of “I love you”––and I loved him back without knowing he had this disease eating him from the inside. Though he said such words, his actions kept displaying something else entirely. There were countless things, material things, that would come up missing from our homes. But that’s what diseases do, right? They prey on the hosts’ body and the minds of those they surround themselves with. Like a plague, they come to feed on everything around. We became victims of the attack, but we knew it couldn't survive with us knowing about it. I wouldn't.

It took me a while to finally confront his addiction, because I knew this wasn’t him. I don’t believe it’s ever the person, since the substance isn’t controlled––it’s in control. I knew that informing him of my knowing would also confront the burden tagging alongside him. It was a risk, but it was something that needed to be done. And I knew that doing so could cause him to run. There was this huge chance he’d revert inwards and never come out after it, and I knew there was a chance he’d lie as well.

There was something about his eyes in that moment. It was as if he wanted me to help, like he wanted all of his family’s help — but his mouth said otherwise. Like his lips were lying to his entire body, to the demeanor he was presenting, the tone he was voicing. He was reaching out the same way we were, but instead––the addiction was winning the battle. I believed he was strong, I hoped he was, but if he wasn't we were there to aid him. No matter the length of time it would take us to fight it, we just couldn’t let the addiction win the war.

Countless rehabilitating efforts, numerous conversations, and many days were given to help stop this nuisance, and he was there trying to conquer it as well. I could see him again, and I really mean see him this time. He was becoming more present and taking his life more seriously. I was beginning to believe the chances weren't slim. They were grander than I expected. He may have an uphill battle ahead of him, while he struggled to defeat this issue, but he wasn't alone in the matter. There were times when I grew weary from all the back and forth, and felt like it was taking a toll on my wellbeing. Then I remembered I promised him I would always be there.

I promise, I am here…