Labeled.

College was something I never saw myself completing. From a young age, I lacked confidence in my academic abilities. I don’t know why. I was intimidated by it all. How does this tie into my brothers and addiction, you ask? Hang on, I promise there is a point to this.

College was HARD. When I look back, I don’t know how I survived… I was twenty-three, living at home (still… why??), working fulltime and enrolled part-time— it sucked. I scraped by in High School, not putting forth the effort I should have. But college was different— I cared. For once, I wanted to accomplish something without quitting. I wanted to create a solid foundation for myself… I wanted to run as fast as I could away from my current situation.

For two and a half years I pushed myself in ways I never knew possible and yet I still felt defeated. It was time to turn in our applications for the UIndy Nursing Program and I knew I didn’t stand a chance. My grades were hardly meeting the requirements and I had to retake a couple of courses just to meet their guidelines. “I will never get out.” This thought circled above my head as if defining me and my future. 

My life was consumed by addiction in a whole new way this time. You see, the entire two years I spent preparing for the biggest decision of my life was penetrated by a new downward spiral from Michael. Don’t get me wrong, abusing any substance of any form is life altering… but this time was different. It was the first time we were introduced to Heroin. There is something about this specific drug that screams, “The End.”

We were introduced to the darkest form of fear, if that’s even a thing? It no longer became a question of “If he dies” but “When he dies.” What should be thoughtless acts of everyday living became fearful anticipation. Every time the phone rang, our bodies stiffened. As soon as you realized you were in the clear, you could feel yourself start to breathe again (to this very day, if my parents call me during the day, my heart stops). You never knew what was lurking around the corner, who would be there or how hard the next fall will be.

I met with my nursing advisor the morning before applying to the program of my dreams. I almost cancelled my appointment— I was embarrassed of my grades and honestly thought I’d be wasting her time as well. But there I sat in her tiny office, stomach churning and hands gripping my folder. I wish I knew what she was thinking… or even what she saw. I don’t think I looked up at her once. “Do you have a plan B?” I lost it. I mean I lost it all and left it on her floor. Four years of fear and heartache turned into tears. I don’t know why I shared my situation… It just came out.

Oh, sweet Rita. She was so compassionate and listened, really listened to me. I knew she felt sympathy but I couldn’t help but to see doubt in her eyes. Did she believe me? Or did she believe this would hold me back, as well? Silence filled her office when I was finished and I’m not sure if I left her speechless or if she was giving me time to pull it together. Her advice? Write a letter “explaining my situation” to the nursing board…. I wanted to end my college career right then and there. Addiction, yet again, gripped my life with all its power. “I have to explain myself to a body of people who don’t know me or my family.”

But isn’t that what addiction does? We only see things at surface level. If one were to only look my grades, repeated classes and GPA they would think I was an incompetent student and rip my application to shreds. I would. When you see an addict, what do you see at surface level? You see a record, a junkie and destruction. But what is underneath? A soul with a story. If you pull back the layers of choices, you begin to see the why.

I’m not sure who read my letter, but whoever it was saw me- they saw my why. They looked past the curse that held me so tightly. I will forever be grateful for the one who said YES because walking across that stage with a diploma in my hand was something only 18 year-old Brittany could dream of.

God love Rita. She met me on the other side of the stage that day. I thanked her for everything, for guiding me through the toughest two years of my life. “I didn’t think you’d make it...”

Those words still sting a bit today. She didn’t think I’d make it. Any confidence I had gained was quickly smothered by the ever-defining word ADDICTION. She too, saw my situation as I did… as most people did. This moment was huge for me— it changed me. It not only enabled how I viewed my brothers (they were baggage to me), but myself as well. Any insecurities I had about my capabilities was confirmed in that moment. For a long time, I set my bar low, as if I didn’t deserve something great… or because I couldn’t achieve greatness. I welcomed addiction to the driver seat. I didn’t just lose control— I gave up control.

There I stood on the sidelines watching one big dumpster fire yelling orders at the players. I demanded change and nothing was changing. I was pissed. I was labeled. The sad part? I labeled myself. Do I think some have a difficult time understanding addiction and the toll it takes on an entire family? Yes. But I also believe most of the time when we feel judged or labeled, it’s because we’ve created it. We put ourselves in a glass bubble, so to speak, and allow words or looks to shatter our barrier. I didn’t realize that, then… I was paralyzed.