Tuesday, May 7, 2019

A Shot of Dope's?

     Is "A Shot of Dope," politically correct? Probably not. The truth is I'm not talking about drugs. I'm not using this as slang either. Instead, it's a metaphor.  A formal noun meaning "A stupid person." I can think of quite a few in the political arena when it come to the ongoing addiction crisis. Ok, maybe a lot.
     After watching October 15, 2017's 60 Minutes episode, I feel rather compelled to voice my opinion. That's correct, I said opinion. I will litter this op/ed with plenty of facts, and my passion for life will leak from my heart into this blog and I expect many of my readers will feel the same way that I do. So please accept this as my disclaimer.
     As we poke and prod at Tom Marino over this disturbing scandal we must not forget about the other 534 congress members that so eloquently let this statute slip through their proverbial greasy fingers. Oh, and former Commander and Chief Barrack Obama.

Wednesday, March 14, 2018

McShin Marker Project

McShin's Marker Project raises awareness to the number of lives lost to Substance Use Disorders in Virginia each year. 

Thursday, November 16, 2017

"The Love of a Mother," Addiction and Family, By: Joy

At a recent McShin meeting Tim asked to hear from family members affected by the disease of addiction.  This caught my ear, perhaps because I didn’t realize that those in recovery at The McShin Foundation were actually interested in what it might be like for us, the family members of an addict.  Usually when we attend the Wednesday night meetings, the meeting is centered on the addict.  The agenda includes their program, their schedule, their activities and their community involvement.  As I considered this request it occurred to me that writing about my experience might be just what I needed to jump-start my own personal recovery.  To be truthful, it needs a major overhaul not just a simple jump-start. 

I have not been actively working my program for probably seven to eight years although the disease has been in our family for well over a decade.  I became complacent, as did the addict in my life.  We all thought we had beaten the disease and could move ahead with our lives.  But just like any life-long disease, we must remain vigilant and actively manage our lives. Recovery is not a solution to a temporary problem, but a lifetime commitment to those who want the best for themselves and their loved ones.


When I arrived at McShin I was sad, depleted and angry.  I had been down this road before, yet here I was again.  I was sad for my daughter and what addiction was doing to her. I was angry with myself for ignoring the red flags and the awful feeling that was always in my gut. And, I was exhausted after living in a codependent, unhealthy relationship with my adult child.  Addiction was destroying our family and our lives had become unmanageable. 

Bob met us in the church parking lot just as he promised he would when I had called him the day before.  He was genuine and he was kind and there was no judging.  I noticed he had a slight limp, yet he eagerly jumped up to meet us and take us up two flights of stairs to meet Erin.  Although she was trying to eat lunch at her desk at 2:30 in the afternoon, she pushed it aside and immediately focused on how she could help us. 

I began to feel more at ease as Erin smiled, listened and shared some of her past experience as an addict.  She demonstrated what life could be like in active recovery.  During our meeting, she effortlessly managed probably a half dozen interruptions by others needing her attention.  Her confidence and positive behavior were refreshing to witness.  Bob re-joined us later that afternoon and accompanied us on a tour of the women’s housing.  There we met Christina, the house leader at Del Rose.  She was beaming with pride and showed off her house as if it were her own.  She was incredibly supportive and welcoming to us as we learned a little more about the McShin philosophy and the people who lived and worked there.   By the end of the day our daughter had decided to take a chance on McShin, and we did as well. 

In so far as being a “family member” or a “loved one” there are many of us, just as there are many of you.  We love you and we know you love us.  Addiction profoundly changed all of our lives, but like you we get to choose how we will live with the disease going forward.  There is no doubt in my mind that this is a family disease.  Addiction is powerful and it is deadly.  It destroys lives and causes us all to do things we never imagined.  It is elusive and cunning, and just as it fooled you into believing it was a solution to your pain, it fooled us into believing we could fix you.  We were both fooled. 

After almost two months of being back in a recovery program I can share my feelings with others.  I’ve learned that I need others in recovery to help me on this journey.  I cannot do it alone and I cannot ever become comfortable or complacent with this disease again.  I imagine the support groups as a big safety net, there to catch me and lift me back up if I am unsteady or feeling unsure in my decisions.  If I find myself getting wrapped up in trying to rescue others, I know it is time to step back and ask for help.  I have come to accept my powerlessness and I have asked for God’s help.  I am not remorseful, nor am I overly hopeful. 

The sadness and the anger have subsided and I am beginning to feel a little more sure-footed as I continue to listen and learn more about this disease.  I understand that recovery is a lifetime commitment and only I am responsible for my program.  I also humbly accept that I can manage only my life, one day at a time and with God’s help.  This is my program and I am responsible for getting the most out of it.  I am still learning and I grateful.

I choose to no longer see you as a child, but as the adult that you have become.  I choose to no longer believe that I can cure your disease or solve your problems.  McShin is an opportunity for us.  It is a huge opportunity for anyone who has decided to choose living over dying.  At The McShin Foundation there are people who have walked in our shoes and found their way out of the darkness.  They have more experience; more wisdom, and more joy in their lives because they have chosen a lifestyle of recovery.  It is by God’s Grace, we are all still here.

Tuesday, October 17, 2017

"I won't be discouraged!" by: Alden Gregory

As many of you know, The McShin Foundation was founded as an authentic peer to peer organization, with the knowledge that the best way to help an individual searching for recovery is to share one’s own lived experience with Substance Use Disorders and Recovery. Because of this, everyone who works at McShin is in recovery, everyone besides me.

Because I’m not in recovery, I’m constantly questioned about why I work here or why I want to work with people with Substance Use Disorders. This question has started to frustrate me – why wouldn’t I want to work here? Why wouldn’t I want to work with people with Substance Use Disorders? Why shouldn’t people who AREN’T in recovery care about people living with a disease, fighting for a better way of life?

This care, motivation and passion started from witnessing the wreckage that Substance Use Disorders caused in the families of some of my best friends. Since then, and through my experience working at McShin, it has grown into so much more.

Four years ago, I was visiting one of my friends in Boston, where she was living for the summer. She had been volunteering at a recovery organization called New Directions, working with men with Substance Use Disorders. It was the summer after my sophomore year of college, and I was a psychology major toying with the idea of focusing on Substance Use Disorders and recovery. The day I visited New Directions happened to be a graduation ceremony for five men who had completed the program, moved out, and stayed in recovery for at least six months. I toured the house, spent time with some of the residents, sat in on a group and was able to attend the graduation ceremony.

Being part of this ceremony and hearing about the transformation that took place in these men’s lives was like lighting a fire inside me. I spent time after the graduation talking to the director of the program, asking how she got into the field. Over and over she kept saying how yes, it is great to see the successes, but the job comes with countless disappointments as well. I told her that I was aware of the statistics, aware of how many people relapse or go to jail or die. I knew all of this, but was frustrated at why people thought that all of this should discourage me from wanting to help.

I returned home from my trip to Boston and told my family that I had an epiphany about what I wanted to do with my life. Immediately, my parents were worried and tried to talk me out of it. They worried about me getting too attached, being put into dangerous situations, or getting burnt out because of disappointments. They tried to talk me into working with children, or the elderly, and I kept insisting that this is where my heart was.

I knew that because I am not in recovery, I would be met with skepticism and the assumption that I shouldn’t care about this population. I adjusted my psychology courses to focus on Substance Use Disorders, learning as much as I could from books, articles, movies, shows, documentaries, scientific research, and recovery literature. Working at McShin, however, has taught me more about Substance Use Disorders and recovery than I could have ever learned from any class or book. Nothing compared to spending day in and day out with people working through these issues.

I am a worrier. I worry about absolutely everything. This was not a good trait when I started at McShin, I struggled with getting too attached to people, then having my heart broken time and time again whey they would return to using. I felt overwhelmed and powerless. I had to come to the realization that I can’t keep anyone in recovery, it’s not up to me. As much as I wish I could do it for them, or take away some of the burden and the challenge, I can’t.

After I accepted this, I started to pray every night, probably for the first time in my entire life. I would ask for everyone to stay safe, be willing to work for their recovery, and be there when I went back in the morning. These prayers were probably the first true, unforced relationship I had with any God or Higher Power. I had to believe there was something greater than myself out there, because I had to accept that I don’t have the power to save people. Prayers and having faith in something more was as much control over the situation as I could get.

When I was visiting my friend in Boston, the director of the recovery organization asked me if I had ever heard of “The Starfish Story.”

One day a man was walking along the beach, when he noticed a boy hurriedly picking up and gently throwing things into the ocean. Approaching the boy, he asked, "Young man, what are you doing?" The boy replied, "Throwing starfish back into the ocean. The surf is up and the tide is going out. If I don't throw them back, they'll die." The man laughed to himself and said, "Don't you realize there are miles and miles of beach and hundreds of starfish?" You can't make any difference!" After listening politely, the boy bent down, picked up another starfish, and threw it into the surf. Then, smiling at the man, he said, "I made a difference to that one."

So, when I get asked questions like “How can you work in this field?” or “Don’t you get discouraged?” I think back to the Starfish Story. I think about all of the amazing, resilient, strong, talented, dedicated, incredible people I’ve met through McShin and the recovery community. I think about their families, so desperate to see their loved one do well. I think about all the changes I’ve seen in people. I think about how amazing it is when the lightbulb goes off in someone and the miracles that happen when someone truly chases recovery. I think about families being brought back together, people getting jobs, rebuilding relationships with their children, and reaching out to the people who come after them. I think about all of the people I love and care about celebrating the milestones of their recovery, creating beautiful lives, and having such a profound impact on my own life.

How could I not want to be part of that miracle?

Monday, October 16, 2017

Let's Arrest our way out of Diabetes! By Jessi Hall

Monday, October 9, 2017

"Thank you for letting me back in" Anne Moss Rogers

Thank you for letting me back in

You thought you got rid of me in the 70s.

In the 90s, I was barely a blip on the radar screen, overshadowed by all the new party drugs. I was weaker back then, too, so pure and powerful now. Every new formula more tempting and deadlier than before.

I thrive in chaotic, fast-paced worlds where people don’t take the time to talk to each other. I can be delivered to your door like pizza and you can shoot me, smoke me or snort me. I like to be versatile!

I’m a killer. But I like to play with my prey first. I wrap my talons around them, leak into their brains, make them feel good at first and never let go. I tease them, tempt them and just when they think they are free of me, talk them into one more party. At some point, they become pathetic, needy and no longer any fun at all and I get rid of them. Vamoose! Or talk them into getting rid of themselves.

Those little white prescription pills you invented were mere bread crumbs right back to me. Greed and opportunity revived me.

I’ve made the lowest scum bags rich as hell. I’ve made mothers sell their children into human trafficking for just one more party. I’ve invaded the bodies of newborns, left children orphaned, wiped out entire families and created trauma so devastating, it will affect you for generations to come.

You thought you could punish your way out of this with a ‘war on drugs.’ And even after decades of failure, you stupid mother f—kers kept at it-- like slamming your head against the same wall over and over was going to produce a new result.

I continued to flourish. Thanks to shame and silence. Thanks for letting me, I couldn’t have done it without you.

Sincerely, Heroin, King of the World

By Anne Moss Rogers, a writer and public speaker on the subjects of addiction, mental illness and suicide prevention. She owns a blog called Emotionally Naked where she features guest posts as well as her own story on taboo subjects. In June 2015, Anne Moss lost her youngest son Charles, 20, to suicide when he was experiencing withdrawal from heroin.

Wednesday, October 4, 2017

Time to Stand Together

Why Advocacy in Recovery Fails?

By: Tim Alexander

               “We must all work in harmony with each other to stand up for what is right, to speak up for what is fair, and to always voice any corrections so that the ignorant become informed and justice is never ignored. Every time a person allows an act of ignorance to happen, they delay our progress for true change. Every person, molecule and thing matters. We become responsible for the actions of others the instant we become conscious of what they are doing wrong and fail to remind them of what is right.”

― Suzy Kassem, Rise Up and Salute the Sun: The Writings of Suzy Kassem

               The path I chose has been difficult to say the least. I’m an addict. I’ve lied, I’ve cheated, and I’ve stolen from all those who have ever loved me. For many years I sacrificed my morals for the lonely degradation of a spoon, a needle, and heroin. I invested my entire life into a farce, a posy scheme designed to steal the most important assets we as humans possess, each other.

               From childhood until my journey into recovery I was unable to connect with other people. The truth is that I didn’t know how to connect with people. I was shy and insecure as a kid. I was taught to believe that vulnerability is a kind of weakness. If I wore the wrong clothes I might not be cool, the wrong shoes I might be a loser. If I didn’t date a pretty girl I was ugly. These are the first run ins with the stigmas of our culture, and being judged as a person.

               Over the years I found myself judging others according to societies unwritten rules. I labeled people. I bullied those smaller and less fortunate than me to calm the identity storms that headed my way. The fact that I had to drink beer or smoke weed to connect with others never occurred to me. As my tolerance built, I had to use more substances to continue my path of self-omnipotence to maintain my image. Little did I know, the more that I used, the more I became detached.  

               These actions led to many years of suffering and self-centeredness. Rehabs, prisons, and isolation from my community. If you’re wondering what that beautiful quote has to do with this blog, it’s quite simple really? And no, I’m not going to rant on about our failed drug policies, although that would be an easy topic to target. Placing blame on others has always came easy to me. #itsnotmyfault.

               Today I rant about hope in unity. Our ability to come together as human beings for the sake of other human beings who suffer and die as a direct result of substance use disorder. This topic also entails mental health disorders and suicide. The question is how many people have to die before we stand up to the bureaucracy involved in human life?

               When is the right time to stand up and let our voices be heard? How long will we allow pointless squabbling among lawmakers to continue while people suffer and die? Is it until it affects us individually?
Maybe I can help.

 The day that we unite as one and show our country that human life doesn’t wait years for a bill to pass.

 How is this done? Well, we become active in a movement. We participate and sacrifice our time and energy in selfless service. We show up although something “fun” is on the same day. We ask questions and research answers. We get out of our own self-righteous views and do the very thing we feel in our hearts, contribute to the greater good of our country. We love others until they can learn to love themselves for we are beacons of light in a world that has quickly become detached from the very thing that fuels our existence, compassion.

Don't spend pointless hours surfing Facebook, and Instagram, while Snapchatting stuff that doesn’t contribute to making our world a better place, mix it up a little. Not everyone, but collectively “We”, as a whole, fail to follow through with the gifts of freedom. Freedom of speech. Freedom from tyranny and oppression. The freedom to choose leaders who value what is important to us all…life!

This isn’t a personal indictment on any one person. This is a plea for help from our community. It’s time to stand up for those who can’t stand up for themselves. It’s time to stand as one, and love everyone in our communities and make it through this epidemic. These issues take more than a handful of people to overcome.

I work for the Mcshin Foundation. My name is Tim Alexander and I’m in the business of saving lives. Come stand with us Saturday October 7, 2017 at the Virginia Historical Society for an amazing event known as CARETALKS. The event starts at 5pm and if you need tickets, guess what? They are free! Help unite our communities and bond with those who are fighting hard to find solutions to our deadly opioid epidemic. I love you all and if you need help and support we’re a phone call away. Tickets can be secured at http://www.eventbrite.com/e/care-talks-richmond-tickets-36001328944.