A New Purpose

It’s been some time since I posted, and I’m excited to resurface with today’s post. My last blog was written in the summer of 2020 and ended with the following:

“We have been sent to our rooms; the doors suddenly slammed to a life that seemed so unshakeable just a few weeks ago. We have been sent to our rooms to be quiet and think, to contemplate and re-evaluate our priorities. My hope is that when we come out on the other side of the door that we will make better choices for ourselves, for our families, for our children and for our World.”

After writing this, I decided to heed my own words and be quiet. There were so many people talking and way more noise than I could absorb. The grieving and sadness that emerged with the pandemic was overwhelming, and I was desperate for a learning moment to appear. I had high hopes for the world, and I naively believed humanity would pull together and find healing, truth, and compassion. 

When I watched stories of the homebound applauding health care workers throughout the world, reports of blue skies being seen in polluted cities for the first time in years, and the multiple daily acts of kindness; I cried. I wanted to believe we would change for the better…some did. I was one of those.

Turns out I was designed to adapt to the pandemic. I was alone the bulk of the time, and there were many weeks where the only people I saw were on Zoom, FaceTime, or from a distance when I walked. I learned to order groceries online and found a tank of gas lasting for months. I spent hours being carried around a house on an iPad by my grandchildren, playing Barbies, jumping on the trampoline, and playing games while virtually interacting with them as they were stuck at home and bored. I am grateful for that time.

Was I lonely? Absolutely. I set up a schedule for my days that included a crazy amount of exercise, reading, meditation, and prayer. I spent time writing, working jigsaw puzzles, teaching myself to play the piano, and taking on random projects that had been sitting neglected for years. My house has never been so organized. 

After too many years of anxiety-riddled sleep, utilizing Xanax as my constant companion to get through the nights, I decided to make a change. To be honest, my doctor insisted on this change, and I wasn’t all that happy about it. She suggested some alternative sleep aids, but I decided I was acting like a two-year-old and it was time to train myself to sleep again. So, I did! It took a lot of discipline and commitment to new habits but as of today, I have not touched a sleeping aid in over a year and enjoy the best sleep I have had in years. We can change.

This time has been a gift and an opportunity to look at my life, my priorities, and my values. I no longer want to spend my days running from one activity to the next, often spending time doing things I care little about. I want to move beyond the conditioned patterns of my life and take time to be curious, challenge my fears and preconceived ideas, break free from old habits, and raise my spiritual awareness. 

In short, I want my life to reflect my values and live into the truth of who I am.

After the publication of my book, Surrender: A Love Letter to My Daughter, in 2018, I connected with many people who were struggling in the darkness of loving an addict…a darkness I was all too familiar with. When children turn to substance abuse, parents become victims as well, often buckling under the stress, guilt, and stigma attached to this disease. 

It is an easy and predictable pattern to become as addicted to your child’s addiction as they are to drugs or alcohol, and I was no exception. During those years, my life became a series of sleepless nights, isolation, and crazy behavior. It’s taken a lot of work and looking at the way I was living, or not living, to begin to grasp the concept that no matter what decisions my children were making, I had a right to live…and not just live to exist but to thrive and be happy.  

During my pandemic journey, I read and reread books on intention, values, and inner peace. You can find a list of some of my favorites below. One of the books I stumbled across was “Think Like a Monk” by Jay Shetty. It was thought provoking and sent me down a path of self-examination and inner reflection in search of a new life purpose. 

In January of 2021, moved by Jay Shetty’s philosophy, I decided to enter his coaching certification program in hopes of enhancing my skills to better serve parents swept up in the opioid crisis. After a year of study, coursework, and many hours of training, I am proud to say I am now a certified life coach. 

I have found a new purpose through coaching and my goal is to help move parents and others forward by developing strategies for healing, setting boundaries, and implementing healthy habits, so they can find peace amidst the chaos of loving an addict. 

How would it feel to free up your mind to focus on what’s important to you? You don’t have to let the trauma of saving your addicted child be the final chapter in your story.

If you’re interested in learning more or know someone who might benefit from coaching, I hope you’ll be in touch. Book a free 30-minute discovery call and let’s talk.

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Recommended Reading:

Think Like a Monk – Jay Shetty

A Radical Awakening – Dr. Shefali

The Way of Integrity – Martha Beck

A New Earth – Eckhart Tolle

Don’t Let Your Kids Kill You – Charles Rubin

The Bhagavad Gita – translated by Eknath Easwaran

What Happened to You? – Oprah Winfrey & Bruce D Perry

Maybe You Should Talk to Someone – Lori Gottlieb

And the People Stayed Home...

As a sixty-six-year-old woman, I am now home alone, suddenly considered “high-risk” and “vulnerable”-- two words that I hate using to define myself, even in the midst of a pandemic. But the truth is that I am vulnerable; we all are.  People are free-falling as jobs are lost, markets are devastated, savings disappear, and restrictions are put on where we can go, who we can see and what we can do.

As a sixty-six-year-old woman, I am now home alone, suddenly considered “high-risk” and “vulnerable”-- two words that I hate using to define myself, even in the midst of a pandemic. But the truth is that I am vulnerable; we all are.  People are free-falling as jobs are lost, markets are devastated, savings disappear, and restrictions are put on where we can go, who we can see and what we can do.

I take my “social distancing” seriously and believe the most important thing I can do in this moment is not expose myself or others to this virus. It’s not much, but it it’s all I can do to honor the healthcare workers and first responders who are putting their lives on the line -- the doctors and nurses who held up signs saying, “I came to work for you, please stay home for me.”

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My son and daughter-in-law drop my groceries on the front porch…then we wave from a distance. They don’t want to risk bringing the virus to me, and I feel the same, but for the ones of us living alone, the lack of any physical touch can be painful. I wish I had at least gotten a dog before they shut it all down!

I’m waking up a little later these days, finding my way into clothes a bit slower, and honestly the clothes I finally slip into are just modified pajamas. No make-up and hair pulled back… the only one who sees me is my 23-year-old box turtle, Ethel, and she doesn’t care. This part I kind of like!

I am trying to stick to my daily routine: prayer and quiet before I look at my phone and flip on the television. This is a practice I’ve had for years so it’s a small taste of normality. Then I do my stretching, sit-ups, weights. There’s no gym to go swim, so I take long walks instead.

There are so many things I know I could be doing…projects I’ve put off, drawers to re-organize, emails to send, but I find it hard to focus for long. I work my jigsaw puzzle, relieved I got four for Christmas, since they seem to have disappeared from the shelves along with toilet paper and paper towels! I find myself obsessed with watching the number of cases rise along with the deaths, and when I can’t take it anymore, I turn it off and watch a dumb movie.

But even as I complain, I know I am fine. I am comfortable alone and grateful for that, although I think I’ve spent more time on the phone in the last week than I have in the last six months just reaching out to friends and family. I even did a Barbie playdate with my five-year-old granddaughter. There are still so many ways to connect.

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I have eight children and five grandchildren all hunkered down throughout the country with different levels of restrictions. They all have someone to ride this virus out with and that makes me happy. They call and we FaceTime. We are sharing our fears and anxieties which helps.

My church is offering on-line services, daily prayer and music concerts to stay connected. I did a Zoom author conference call last night and have a training next week that will require me to dress, at least from the waist up.

It’s time to implement a bit more of a schedule to my day as I accept that this is not a short-term situation…replacing the onslaught of news and numbers with exploring opportunities to write, create, read and reach out to others who I know are alone.

One of my children sent me this post from a friend and Palestinian journalist that spoke to me:

We all must think about how we are going to respond to what is being asked of us at this moment. We are not being asked to leave our families and go to war; we are being asked to stay home, talk to each other, read a book and watch TV. We are being given the gift of time. Precious time to look in our children’s eyes and get on the floor and play and laugh.

We can take this time to be angry at an unseen enemy we have no control over or we can reach out to others and offer compassion and love. Checking on a neighbor, calling a friend, shopping for the elderly or just sitting in prayer. How we respond to this new reality is up to each of us.

We have been sent to our rooms, the doors suddenly slammed to a life that seemed so unshakeable just a few weeks ago. We have been sent to our rooms to be quiet and think, to contemplate and re-evaluate our priorities. My hope is that when we come out on the other side of the door that we will make better choices for ourselves, for our families, for our children and for our World.

 I think this poem captures it beautifully:

Book Review: "I’ve Been Thinking: Reflections, Prayers and Meditations for a Meaningful Life" by Maria Shriver

As part of my healing, I continue to look to the words and insights of others who have walked down difficult roads. Maria Shriver's book is written with honesty and authenticity, and it resonated with me on many levels. Her perspective on life is inspiring; you can flip to any page and find a bit of wisdom to guide you through the day. If you need some inspiration to guide you through these last few weeks of summer, I highly recommend it!

Lou talks with Indie Beacon

Indie Beacon is dedicated to supporting people from the creative arts, who choose to be Indie. Shanalee Sharboneau interviews Lou who talks about her book “A Love Letter to my Daughter” and the devastation that drug abuse has on a person and the family.

Teaching, Learning, Leading with Dr. Steven Miletto

Dr. Steven Miletto has been an educator for over 3 decades. His podcast, Teaching Learning Leading K12, provides resources for teachers and school-based administrators.

Lou sat down to talk with Dr. Miletto about her journey.

So Booking Cool

So Booking Cool, chats with Lou about the journey of addiction through the lens of a mother.

Lou talks with Julie Rose of Top of Mind

A winner of multiple Edward R. Murrow Awards, Julie Rose is a seasoned broadcast journalist and interviewer. Lou sat down with Julie Rose to discuss Surrender: A Love Letter to My Daughter and what it’s like to be the loved one of a person gripped by addiction.

Listen here.