The second eloquent and dead-on addiction piece I have read in the last few day's under the indefatigable Sari's auspices. As good an evocation of the addict's spiral into self-delusion as I know, and a stark reminder of what it was like. So grateful for that reminder of how blessed I am to have been in long-term recovery. I wish you only the very best.
What a beautiful, heartwrenching essay. Thank you for helping me feel less alone in a family that has been on a strikingly parallel journey. Not that long ago I decided to quit bargaining in my own little corner. (Not an easy decision; I am a rather excellent negotiator.) Because what if the wreckage, the generational trauma, the family addiction to addiction, could stop with me.
Frances - I just read your parents’ NYTimes story. Humbling, mind blowing, beautiful and unforgettable, thank you for sharing it and 🙏🏻 for your family’s strength, courage, and grace. - Ellen
I just read a feature article in the NYT about the family with grandparents raising children. Then looked up the author and found this piece. Powerful writing that weaves together details and feelings, the entanglements of family, how we are affected by others' behavior, what expectations we have and have to change.
Everyone but me is already in their 70s. Or dead. All the sisters and cousins, I mean. Worries about addiction are long dead. The worry is now dementia. Turns out, it was a thing for our parents. It's a bigger thing for the cousins and sisters in their 70s, especially if they have hearing loss. I'm at t-minus two years and counting, until setenta, and I can't hear myself fart with my eight-year-old hearing aids. And yet, 1% of me wants to gear up and give Substack a crack, after I get my third book of Memories on Amazon next month. But, fuck, really? REALLY? Powerful story, Frances. Blessings from NZ. Kia kaha. Stay strong.
We bargain with ourselves over many things that we know are wrong but that we feel too weak to change. I love the line about time being the only currency that we bargain with.
Thank you for sharing your family’s story. Your courage to be honest creates space for others to not feel alone. Always in awe of how your words are so powerful! You are an amazing writer.
The second eloquent and dead-on addiction piece I have read in the last few day's under the indefatigable Sari's auspices. As good an evocation of the addict's spiral into self-delusion as I know, and a stark reminder of what it was like. So grateful for that reminder of how blessed I am to have been in long-term recovery. I wish you only the very best.
Reading your essay now, Syd!
What a beautiful, heartwrenching essay. Thank you for helping me feel less alone in a family that has been on a strikingly parallel journey. Not that long ago I decided to quit bargaining in my own little corner. (Not an easy decision; I am a rather excellent negotiator.) Because what if the wreckage, the generational trauma, the family addiction to addiction, could stop with me.
Frances - I just read your parents’ NYTimes story. Humbling, mind blowing, beautiful and unforgettable, thank you for sharing it and 🙏🏻 for your family’s strength, courage, and grace. - Ellen
As a sister with two brothers who have fallen down the deep well of addiction, one to never return, thank you for writing this beautiful piece.
I just read a feature article in the NYT about the family with grandparents raising children. Then looked up the author and found this piece. Powerful writing that weaves together details and feelings, the entanglements of family, how we are affected by others' behavior, what expectations we have and have to change.
This is absolutely stunning!
What an amazing essay. Thanks for sharing this, Frances, your sentences so graceful as you recount these tragedies and the pain.
A punch in the gut and an ache in the heart for anyone who has been there. This was brutal and beautiful.
Just gorgeous. Jeez
Everyone but me is already in their 70s. Or dead. All the sisters and cousins, I mean. Worries about addiction are long dead. The worry is now dementia. Turns out, it was a thing for our parents. It's a bigger thing for the cousins and sisters in their 70s, especially if they have hearing loss. I'm at t-minus two years and counting, until setenta, and I can't hear myself fart with my eight-year-old hearing aids. And yet, 1% of me wants to gear up and give Substack a crack, after I get my third book of Memories on Amazon next month. But, fuck, really? REALLY? Powerful story, Frances. Blessings from NZ. Kia kaha. Stay strong.
So powerful. So heartbreaking. So familiar.
We bargain with ourselves over many things that we know are wrong but that we feel too weak to change. I love the line about time being the only currency that we bargain with.
Thank you for sharing your family’s story. Your courage to be honest creates space for others to not feel alone. Always in awe of how your words are so powerful! You are an amazing writer.
An amazing piece of writing Frances, totally compelling from the first paragraph. x
A gorgeous essay that I really related to. Thank you for writing it.
As the child of 2 alcoholics, I always assumed family addiction and acted cautiously.