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.
The McShin Blog
Founded in 2004, The McShin Foundation is Virginia's leading non-profit, authentic full service Recovery Community Organization. We are committed to serving individuals and families in their fight against Substance Use Disorders and are changing lives in this process.
Tuesday, May 7, 2019
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.
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
So you walk up to the bench as the judge on the other side looks through his glasses at his documents. He looks up at you and says “Ma’am, I see you're a diabetic?”. “Yes Sir” is your reply, as you hang your head in shame. He then proceeds to remind you that your blood sugar is sky high into the 300 levels. The gavel hits the bench and there is your fate! You're told you will be spending the next six months behind bars in your local county jail for you disease. Completely absurd, correct? Yes drugs are criminalized and yes stealing is a crime, but my disease IS NOT.
My name is Jessica Hall and I am the Director of Judicial Programs for the McShin Foundation. I am also a person in long term recovery from substance use disorder. This mean I haven’t used a substance in over three years. Being a young person in recovery has given me a life of a million open doors with my name written on them, and for that I am grateful. My lost dreams have truly been awakened, but it's the new possibilities that continue to baffle me. Who would have thought, me, a high school drop out, could be this beautiful young woman that I am today. So please give me a moment to tell you a little bit about why I love what I do. Picture this little girl, scared and alone, in the back of a police car being transferred to a big girl jail on her 18th birthday. Not to sure how she got there but also having to wear a brave face because life just got real. Felony conspiracy to sell, manufacture, and distribute a controlled substance on 4 counts. I would think that some one would see this and think “Hmmm this may be a problem”. NOPE. I was slapped on the wrist and told to go home and be “a good girl”. My disease was fully alive and well at this point and no-one stopped to take the time to be in the solution. I wish I could tell you that this was end. Moving forward a few years I find myself in and out of multiple local county jails around Virginia, but still, no help. Overtime 10, 30, 60 days behind bars!! Yes because that is completely the solution.Would you find it crazy for me to tell you that upon every release I was met with a pill or a pipe, fully loaded and ready to get back to business. What if… Just what if someone had said wait….and reached out that hand to tell me that I never had to use agin. If someone had seen the disease running rampant in my life and I was caught in the grips, that my days on earth were numbered, why not take the chance to pull me from the trenches, to plant that seed. I can’t tell you if it would have helped then, and don’t get me wrong, I love MY story because it is mine, but I can’t help but wonder, what if. Knowing now what I didn’t know then it is apart of my duty, and it is also my honor, to be that hand. When that 19 year old girl walks through the jail doors with her chin in her chest, just as scared and alone in her own prison, to be able to take her into my arms so that she knows there is a way out, I am that light today, and so are you. For me, being that seed, is what makes me wake up everyday with purpose. I could be angry at the world for watching as mush as I could myself, or, I can be in the solution today. I mean there is a reason that I found my way out of the same hole right?? I believe that reason is right here. |
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.
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