Family legacy (autosaved)

A Family Legacy Carrie Lee Wendt

“Our fathers sinned, and are no more; It is we who have borne their iniquities” Lamentations 5:7

When people talk about a family legacy, they may reminisce about their father's glory days as the hardworking man, their mother’s heart of gold, or think fondly of their brothers and sisters playing together as siblings. And maybe these things happen in real life. There is no challenge in visualizing two loving parents doting on their children and setting admirable examples for them. These ideas are some of the norms to which we have grown accustomed. We see the appearance of happily ever after in social media, marketing, campaigning and advertisements. After all, isn't this all part of the American dream?

I have some of those memories too, but this isn’t my family’s true legacy. Maybe when people look at me, they don't know that my grandfather died when my mother was only 17, from liver cirrhosis, no doubt caused by his battle with alcohol. And,

maybe it would surprise some people that I still remember the beautiful black and red glass bong my dad had on the coffee table. Or the tray under the couch they used to sort marijuana leaves from seeds. And maybe still, some wouldn't look at me and notice the ache I still have from watching my mother drink herself into a stupor, numbing herself from the heartache of my father leaving us. Maybe.

When I set out into the world, at the ripe old age of 18, I knew I wanted to leave my children a different legacy. One where a father and mother are hardworking, honorable, loving and cherish their children. My very own version of the 'American Dream.' I would be a good ‘Christian’ wife and raise lovely children, and we would all live happily ever after. And maybe you can guess, it didn't quite happen that way. My family legacy followed me, and it couldn't be ignored.

From my experience, as a daughter, wife, mother, and citizen, I can tell you that it is easy to want to control the things we think will harm those we love. But it isn't that simple. The issue of drugs or better, addiction, is complicated. It is like watching an intricate maze of dominoes unfold before my eyes. And this unraveling leads to questions upon questions. What is the problem? Why is it a problem? What can be done? How can we move forward? How do I move forward? How can I save the people I love?

These are the questions I asked myself when my young cousin came to live with us because her mom caught her doing ecstasy. Or while watching my ex-husband drink a liter of whiskey a week and shutting us out. And again, finally, when my son

started down a path of rebellion, anger, and drug addiction. Even as I write this, I am reeling from a picture my son posted on social media, noticeably high. Snapchatting his friends about getting away with drinking and driving, selling pot, and having meth for sale. His eyes are half slit moons, glossy with absence. He is nineteen. Legally, an adult who wants nothing to do with our rules or concern. He thinks we are oblivious.

Do I unfollow my own son on social media? No, instead I message him and ask him how he is and ask if he wants to come over for dinner this week. I need to see him.

That he is ok. Making sure he knows I am still here, loving him. This is my life. A step away from despair but still grappling onto hope with both hands. Maybe, people don't see my legacy the same way I do; a legacy of drug addiction and the pain that comes with it.

I could easily be the mother, protesting in the streets and campaigning for the 'war on drugs.' Asking people to crack down on the drug problem. After all, I encouraged the DARE program and wanted no part of drug and alcohol abuse in our home. However, I can no longer fight in a war I don't believe in. This is because, in my opinion, America lost that war long ago, and so did I. We could sit here and debate the necessity for having a ‘war on drugs’. Believe me, I get it. I tried to convince myself that my “well we have to do something?!” attitude was justified. The ‘no drugs equal no problems’, or the ‘drugs equals bad’ theories have been heavily engrained into our society. Understandably, it’s a difficult idea to get away from. Yet, we don’t look at the bigger picture.

One, not all drugs are the same. Some have more harmful effects, while some are considered helpful. Prohibition never worked before and it still doesn’t work, supply and demand and human nature, will always win the day. Criminalizing drug usage has cost Americans trillions of dollars. Economically speaking the war on drugs is a financial drain on Americans. With a budget of around 30 billion dollars the governments success rate is at less than 1%! Decriminalization could reduce incarceration by half. 50 percent of federal prisoners were incarcerated for drug crimes in 2010, according to the Bureau of Justice Statistics. The criminal justice system is designed for punishment and is a blunt and ineffective system when it comes to addressing public health issues. But I digress.

Do I believe there is a problem? Absolutely, yes. Is it easy to become angry and frustrated when confronted with a legacy that is as haunting as my own? Yes. However, sometimes to fight off the boogeyman, one must tackle it head-on. After all, most of the time, the boogeyman isn't real, or at most, it isn't what we thought it was.

And this legacy is the monster that is lurking around every corner, hiding under my bed, or in the closet. It is time to cast some light in the shadows.

What I found was that my ‘boogeyman’ (drug addiction) is very different than I thought it was. The more I read, the more I realized, drugs weren’t the root of the problem. It seemed so weird to me, so contrary to everything I'd been told, everything I thought I knew, I just thought it couldn't be right, until I heard about a man called

Bruce Alexander. He's a professor of psychology in Vancouver who carried out an incredible experiment I think really helps us to understand drug addiction.

Professor Alexander explains that, the idea of addiction we've all got in our heads, that story, comes partly from a series of experiments that were done earlier in the 20th century. You get a rat and you put it in a cage, and you give it two water bottles: One is just water, and the other is water laced with either heroin or cocaine. If you do that, the rat will almost always prefer the drug water and almost always kill itself pretty quickly. So, there you go, right? That's how we think it works.

In the '70s, Professor Alexander comes along, and he looks at this experiment and he noticed something. He thinks ah, we're putting the rat in an empty cage. It's got nothing to do except use these drugs. Let's try something different. So, Professor Alexander built a cage that he called "Rat Park," which is basically heaven for rats. They've got tons of cheese, they've got toys, they've got all of these tunnels. More crucially, they've got loads of friends and mating partners. AND, they've got both the water bottles, the normal water and the drugged water. But here's the fascinating thing: In Rat Park, they don't like the drug water. They almost never use it. None of them ever use it compulsively. None of them ever overdose. You go from almost 100 percent overdose when they're isolated to zero percent overdose when they have happy and connected lives.

This experiment blew my mind. Upon further reflection, it really broadens my picture of what drug addiction is. Still, I am perplexed, I try to understand drugs and

the dangers they cause, after all we aren’t rats. Life is much more complicated than that. I reflect on my family and especially my children. The family is a micro-society and what happens in the family can help us relate to what happens in the world. My children are the perfect example of what happens when what we hope for challenges the reality of what is or will be. So, I open myself up and let it all come out and take a closer look. Inside my legacy, there must me some answers. Right?

My children are all very different from each other. There is my oldest daughter, who is still defining herself and overcoming the challenges that come from a traumatic emotional loss (abandonment) of her parents and being in the foster system. Along with the addition of my family still never really reaching out and welcoming her, sadly enough. My hope for her is that she will find her voice, express gratitude, recognize her worth, find joy and finally know what happiness is. At this point, she doesn't completely get it. She is impulsive, easily manipulated, gets lost in trivial things, is combative, secretive, becomes depressed, doesn't apply herself and quits when things get hard.

I made rules, no drugs for one. When she became an adult, I told her if she continued down her reckless path she would have to move out. She snuck out, snuck people in, had parties when we were gone, did drugs and then, I found out she was selling drugs (all this, in part, due to the influence of her brother, my son). It is difficult to understand why people, especially your very own children, risk everything to make stupid choices. (If I had the answer to this, I would be a wealthy woman!) She

had to move out on her own. She is maturing and making better choices. She still comes home weekly and we are always here for her. She is talented and smart. And I see her grow and change every day. She has amazing potential. Until she knows who she is, and what she wants to do with her life, she can't fully apply those strengths.

But, it is good to see her figuring it out.

My son, my firstborn, (and the one I made every mistake with) has been defiant and challenging since the day he was born. All I wanted was for my child to be safe, kind, and happy. He hasn’t found those things yet. The reality; I often felt like the worst mother in the world because nothing I ever said or did was right and he was my worst critic. If you told him no, he wanted to hear yes. If you said to be quiet, he was loud. If you wanted him to eat, he would throw his food at you. If you wanted him to smile he would be a clown. His temperament was tough, but I also saw tenacity and determination. I hoped and imagined that he would explore the world, have great adventures, become his own hero and be full of joy. Every parent’s hope.

I tried to redirect my son positively. Then he started trying drugs and drinking alcohol (It should be noted that he started drugs before my divorce). At first, I thought he was just a child experimenting and testing his limits. Every time I tried to recognize the problem, someone would make me feel as though I was the crazy, overacting, etc.… I tried to be honest with him about drugs, the good, the bad and the ugly. I told him my own experiences and struggles, after all, I wasn’t a squeaky-clean kid either. I

hoped it would be a phase that would pass. But it didn’t, and I had to crack down and be firm with the rules. My very own mini version of the war on drugs.

I took away his freedom, his privileges and was angry with my son. What made our relationship even more difficult was his father and I disagreed on parenting style, including consequences. Calling the police, trying to talk to family, or my ex-husband deemed pointless. I have been told more than once to ‘remember that people talk’, or ‘word gets around’. So, I sank back into my corner and tried to let the injustices that happen in life pass by. There was a lot of neglect, inconsistency and confusion.

Looking back, I think we overlooked how much he needed our attention, the jealousy he had over his younger sister and how quickly she made us smile, a rough divorce and a father to spend more time with. Enabling was the worst, if someone let him fall, another would pick him up, dust him off and help him take no responsibility.

This all took its toll. If I could roll back the clock and have a do over, I’d take it. I’d get him the help he needed to find independence, responsibility and happiness. I would also ask for help myself. I still fail him as a parent, partly because I just don’t have all the answers. I know people have just outright called me a horrible parent, made assumptions, believed half-truths or used the excuse ‘I don’t belong in church anymore’. And, because of all this he still struggles. He struggles with identity, with addictions and the ability to define for himself what it means to be a young man in today's society.

Last, but not least, there is my youngest daughter. Honestly, I feel guilty in the knowledge that she brings me so much joy. She is sassy but reasonable. She is passionate about who she is and what she wants in life. She applies herself beyond what I ever expect from a teenager. She is extremely talented and watching her succeed in something she cares so deeply about makes my heart swell. She cares for other people, is kind and considerate. She brings lightness and humor to the people in her life. She is fierce and brave. She has a beautiful heart and shows remorse when she does something wrong (most of the time). Don't get me wrong; she can be an annoying, eye-rolling teenager who thinks her parents have 'no clue' and 'just don't get it.' But I see it, she is an amazing young lady, and when I look at her, I wish I could take credit for it, but I can't.

She is nearly the same product of marriage, divorce, and struggles as her brother and sister. The differences would be, that at an earlier age; she was freed from some of the bonds that followed our religion, (the views of women as subordinate, patriarchal leadership roles, no voting and no extracurricular activities on the Sabbath, *I did not dissuade her from church but told her that she could do both if she wanted to). I tried to separate her from the sexist/abusive outlook of women, and I encouraged her to follow her passions in education, music, acting and speech. She also saw, not only my example, but that of her siblings and the tumultuous times they contributed to. She has spent much of her young life not wanting to be like her siblings or her father, sadly. Regardless of how well I mediated or played peacekeeper.

No matter what positive outlook, or compassion I tried to convey on their behalf (though admittedly not always successful). She has worked hard to be the opposite of them. Only ever wanting to be a likable, upstanding, drug free kid. In fact, the worst insult you could fling her way would be to compare her with any of them. It wasn't my dream or hope that created this remarkable young girl. It was her independent perception of things, what she saw and wanted for herself, or maybe more accurately what she didn't want for herself. My influence plays a backseat role in who she is becoming.

How does any of this connect to drug addiction, the 'war on drugs' or solving these social problems? Let me explain. We are all like those rats in ‘Rat Park’. And a whole lot more. What would happen if you put smaller parks into “Rat Park’? And what if you could see all those other parks? What if the park you were raised in seemed painful or unfair? You can get to another park, but you may have to go through an intricate maze and it might be lined with bottles of laced water. What if you get lost? What if you find the park you wanted to visit, and it turns out to be awful?

My point is, we all live in that cage in the experiment. Life is that cage. We are all infants crawling around inside it trying to figure out what works. Some of us love our ‘Rat Park’. Some of us don’t. There are different rules and guidelines. Those who think they have it figured out and hope to control everything thinking if they do this harm can be prevented. I can relate to this because I realized the rules I made were

mostly for me. Of course, I wanted to protect my family and children, yes. And, I wish I could sit here and type that the rules I made were all for their own safety. They weren’t. If I am being honest, I wanted to protect myself from any possibility of ever being hurt again.

Seeing my children unhappy hurts. Knowing my children may fail or have pain hurts. Not knowing what to do hurts even more. I get upset by my children and other family members using drugs, but it has nothing to do with the drugs themselves.

When they make those decisions, they do it knowing the risks involved. They do it to escape their ‘cage’. If I look closer, my fear and sadness stems from knowing they are depressed, stressed, lost, defiant or just plain selfish. That they may, themselves, come to harm or harm me, my children or other people in their blind struggle, infuriates me.

So, what do I do with this new-found knowledge and self-reflection? I talk. I share (probably more than I should). And above all else, I hope. I figure if I can fight off the ‘boogeyman’ and find my way out of the cage that tries to ensnare me, then maybe others can to. The only way I have ever been able to do that is by communicating. For me, this means writing and sharing my art.

All of this is why I created this art installation, “A Family Legacy”. It is a participatory art project that includes memories, narratives and confessions of people who have loved those struggling with addiction or who have struggled with addiction themselves. So far, people have a lot to say. They have the same concerns, questions

and struggles. And somehow, I feel better, not in having a resolution, but rather in the comfort of realizing that I’m not alone. And what I've tried to do now, and I can't tell you I do it consistently and I can't tell you it's easy, is to say to the addicts in my life that I want to deepen the connection with them, to say to them, I love you whether you're using or you're not. I love you, whatever state you're in, and if you need me, I’m here.

This is my small step to stop the crusade and start a conversation. A transformation in thinking and acting. It starts with simple statements like, “You’re not alone, and I love you.” This message of compassion must be at every level of how we respond to addicts, socially, politically and individually. For over 100 years now, we've been beating the drum and marching in the war on drugs. I think all along we should have been comforting them, not punishing them, because the opposite of addiction is not sobriety. The opposite of addiction is connection. So here I am, still grappling onto hope, this time with one hand, reaching out my other towards someone who may need hope too.

*The names of family members have been omitted to preserve privacy, even though I know very well that this is a very easily looked into or already known. Please respect my family members and those that may be revealed in this transparent look at my life and family. We all struggle, none of us are saints, especially me. This whole presentation is about love, peace and forgiveness. I love my family VERY much and am proud of their journeys. That being said, let us also remember that people are allowed to be upset, mad or hurt. In addition, I truly believe that forgiveness is releasing myself and people whom I care about from the burden of hate and anger, but it also doesn’t mean allowing room to let yourself be hurt again.