But I’ll Be Back, Love …With Help.

This was an Art As Therapy piece I created in 2020. It was inspired by my friend Nicole (Rest In Peace. May 29, 1983 - September 5, 2021).

It’s heartbreaking to me that so many I love are no longer here, yet I still am. There were times when Nicole’s addictions were so bad that I had to cut her out of my life for my own safety and protection (though we’d always reconnect as soon as she was back in recovery. ❤️)

I couldn’t save you, Nicole, and I’m sorry for that. Unfortunately, I don’t have the power to truly save anyone in that way except for myself.

Addictions and mental illness are not like physical drowning. With physical drowning we can pull people out of the water and they’ll often be so traumatized that they’ll be afraid to swim (or at least they’ll plan better so they don’t almost drown again). With mental health and addictions, we pull people out, and then—despite the pain and consequences—many find themselves back in the water. From my own lived experience I know that sometimes the water feels familiar, and that familiarity can feel comforting and safe (even when it’s not). Sometimes people don’t yet believe they can survive without it. Sometimes hopelessness convinces people they can’t. So we (as families, friends, and societies—the medical system and emergency services) pull people out again and again, and it becomes a vicious cycle where everyone is depleted because the way we’re doing things isn’t working.

From my own lived experience—noting that we live in an unwell, emotionally avoidant, and highly addicted society (with addictions including far more than drug and alcohol use)—I feel we need to start looking at the root cause. And yes, I have different views on what those root causes are than the mainstream, including the 12-step programs.

I couldn’t save you, Nicole, but I can take my lived experience and use it to keep helping others. And I know now that I have to keep myself afloat first, and that it’s then (and only then)—when I trust in my own ability to swim—that I can support others who are still in the water.

These days I’m hovering near burnout far too often. There’s so much fear, anger, and pain in this world… and I’m learning, Nicole, I’m learning how to feel it but not absorb it because I can’t just cut off one of my senses. I’m an empath. I feel the energy and emotions of those around me as if they’re my own experiences. Fortunately, being highly sensitive also has its benefits. Nature, animals, bugs, and the hope, willingness to grow, and warmth I see in others—they’re like little recharging stations I feel blessed to come across. 🌱🌦️

I miss you so much, Nicole. Rest in peace, my love. ❤️‍🩹🫂