Throes: A Transformative Parable

By Mary Dolor

What is Throes?
Throes will teach in specific ways, how you can understand the Beast of addiction. As a Transformative Parable, Throes takes you on a journey. The Heroic Journey. As you move through events you will work with your mind and heart to look inward. Strength from confidence will grow. Answer the questions honestly. They will guide you to discover hidden triggers and tripwires. As you continue, you may, for the first time, be able to see your own thoughts with new clarity. This puts the power to change in your hands. Hope and belief in your future grow from this power. A more abiding Peacefulness is possible. Every family with an addict, every mother , every father, and every son and daughter needs this protective armour.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Feb 4, 2020
• ISBN: 9781532088117

Mary Dolor

Mary Dolor is a registered nurse with a master’s in geriatric nursing, certified as a Geriatric Clinical Nurse Specialist. She is the owner of a business that provides patient advocacy services, educational workshops for clinicians and the community, and legal consultation to plaintiff and defense attorneys litigating elder abuse cases. THROES HOLDS OUT HOPE TO THOSE BEING CRUSHED BY THE ADDICTION AROUND THEM.

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Copyright © 2020 Mary Dolor.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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ISBN: 978-1-5320-8810-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-8812-4 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-8811-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019918158

iUniverse rev. date: 02/26/2020

What is a Transformative Parable?

Throes takes you on a journey. The Heroic Journey. Throes will teach, in specific ways, how you can understand the Beast. The Beast can take many forms. The changes that deep addiction causes are one example.

We also encounter other people in our lives that act in inexplicable and hurtful ways. They also may embody the Beast.

As you move through this story, you will work with your mind and heart to look inward. Strength from confidence will grow. The questions will guide you to discover hidden triggers and tripwires. As you continue, you will be able to see your own thoughts with new clarity. This puts the power to change in your hands. A more abiding peacefulness is possible. Every family with an addict needs this protective armor.

CONTENTS

Front Note

Preface

Introduction

PART I: LOSS OF INNOCENCE

Chapter 1 Mariah

Chapter 2 Thwarted Dreams

Chapter 3 My Family Grows: Adoption

Chapter 4 Mariah: A Surprising Child

Chapter 5 Mariah’s Childhood

Chapter 6 Sometimes Geography Is Not Your Friend

Chapter 7 The Beast Stirs

Chapter 8 The Calm before the Storm

Chapter 9 The Wind is Mariah

Chapter 10 Into the Storm

Chapter 11 Arizona Dreaming: A Needed Break

Chapter 12 The Illusion

Chapter 13 A Perfect Storm

Chapter 14 Hopes and Dreams Fade Away

Chapter 15 Arizona Adventures

Chapter 16 The Vortex of Drug Addiction

Chapter 17 Life Goes On

PART II: MARIAH’S WEB

Introduction

Chapter 18 Caught in Mariah’s Web

Chapter 19 Samuel’s First Year

Chapter 20 The Eve of Destruction

Chapter 21 New Strategies

Chapter 22 Stars Light the Darkness

Chapter 23 Diamonds in the Rough

Chapter 24 A Battle Won

Chapter 25 Another Bright Star is Born

Chapter 26 The Big Gordian

Chapter 27 Now I See Darkly

Chapter 28 The True Face

PART III: THE FACES OF THE BEAST

Chapter 29 The New Face

Chapter 30 The Ancient Face Your Own Brain

Epilogue

Instructions on How To Apply the Parable

Throes Advanced Studies

Beyond Thinking: The Meta Mind

A Final Story

Appendix I: Chapter Questions

Appendix II: How to Protect Yourself

Recommended Reading and Listening

DISCLAIMER

This parable uses fictional dramatization based on memories of real experiences drawn from a variety of sources, including personal memories, interviews, stories, and research. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s memories, imagination or used in a fictitious manner. The names of people and places in this parable have been changed and or fictionalized. Any resemblance between fictional names and descriptions and the names and descriptions of persons to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

While the authors and publisher have used their best efforts in preparing this book, they make no representations or warranties with respect to accuracy or completeness of the contents of this book and specifically disclaim any implied warranties of merchantability or fitness for a particular purpose. Neither the author nor the publisher shall have liability to any person or entity with respect to any loss or damage caused or alleged to be caused directly or indirectly by the information contained in this book.

The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician or mental health counselor either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is to only offer information and motivation to our readers, to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

FRONT NOTE

I am aware that the clinical language around addiction and recovery are changing today in professional circles. Language changes slowly over time. There is a period of transition and awareness before widespread acceptance. Clinicians and professionals in the addiction treatment world are noticing that by using less judgmental terms, some people are treated less punitively in the treatment environment. Here are a few examples:

In this parable the common vernacular is used in order to communicate to the current audience. These language changes should be accepted more broadly as they filter into general use. There are subtleties to this discussion that the parable clearly points out. This clinical language modification is directed by separating the Person from the Disorder. This change will help reduce the stigma attached to substance abuse disorders. That is fine as far as it goes. However, it is now well known that the physical structure of the brain is changed after sustained usage of highly addicting drugs. The new language changes being proposed do not encompass a term for the New Person created by these structural alterations.

PREFACE

There are beasts among us in the forests of our civilization that rend and tear our lives and our souls. They are camouflaged by catch-all words that disguise their vicious and even deadly nature. They hide behind faces bland or lovely and actions confusing. They disable by sliding through the windows of love and concern and begin the perversion of those healthy emotions. Caring, empathy, and trust twist and warp into their ugly caricatures—doubt, numbness, and hatred. This devouring beast is the one that arises in the addict’s soul. The face of the addict stays the same, but behind the eyes, a darkness has grown. It alters reality for the addicted. This new set of eyes sees only what addiction wants, needs, and demands. Not mother, father, wife, or husband. Not daughters and sons or other loved ones. Only its ravenous need. This is extremely difficult for the unaware to comprehend.

It is painful, but here I expose the full extent of the beast’s depravity. Then, and much more important, I unveil exactly how to construct an abundant life in its presence. Every family with an addict—every wife, every husband, every son and daughter—needs these weapons and tools to survive. Without this knowledge, the forest where the beast lives is a dark, confusing, and even dangerous place. Instead, I wish for you the path I followed, a path to create a safe space where you can thrive.

Addiction attacks the unaddicted as viciously as the addict. The negative power of the beast, however powerful it seems at times, can be turned and become a source of great personal strength and freedom. Simple paradigm shifts and exercises not only disable the beast’s agenda but create a permanent source of personal power. These are revealed by demonstration through a transformative parable based on true events. This tale is of a mother’s battle with an addicted child and how the depravity of addiction corrupts family bonds.

Additional and sinister beasts will be revealed. These shadowy creatures walk among us and are not easily detected, for no addiction needs to drive their motives. Law enforcement and the military refer to those of us who live relatively peaceful and law-abiding lives as civilians, meaning people who do not have to confront deep evil daily. Generally, we are unarmed emotionally and basically innocent. This book is the first step to becoming armed and tough and successful in dealing with the beasts in our world. In other words, it’s time to become strong enough to protect the ones you love and yourself.

When a loved one has been transformed into an addict, love itself becomes a weapon for the beast. In this parable, the characters play a role you will recognize in your own story. They portray the moves you may have tried when dealing with the confusing and hurtful battles an addict can inflict. As we work through this story together, you will begin to see new options and more healing responses. While the daughter is an archetype symbolizing all of those possessed by the beast of addiction, the mother stands for each of us who have blindly grappled with our own internal beasts. With guidance, suffering is a great teacher and a launchpad for happiness.

At the end of each chapter, I pose a few questions. Answer them honestly in your heart. Then do the healing steps.

The new power you will find here will help when we conclude with the hard and honest decisions needed to create real healing for both.

Throes is a book you not only read but also do.

INTRODUCTION

The Paradox of Invisibility and Lightness

That an Element, completely Invisible and

Lighter than a downy feather could land such a heavy blow,

Is only possible in the realm of Human Hearts.

—PRH

The happiest of the noble gases has a sense of humor. When inhaled, it makes the brightest person sound like Mickey Mouse. Birthdays, anniversaries, and homecomings are more enchanting when brightened by colorful balloons filled with helium. Who doesn’t love floating balloons? They signify celebration and warmth. Airport reunions are made even more joyful by their bobbing and bouncing, catching everybody’s eyes and softening hearts. They are visible markers, signposts of reunion—hugging and holding someone dear again. Such is the power of helium balloons, straining at their ribbon leashes to fly free, even eliciting laughter when they occasionally do. But on a warm afternoon in September, a gang of helium balloons, once lighter than air, became fierce bludgeons, now useful for crushing hopes and hearts—potent weapons, forged in the dark underworld of drug addiction.

On this dry, warm afternoon, pacing the Desert Oasis airport terminal, I cling to a bouquet of helium-filled balloons. Though the orbs are vibrantly dressed in bold primary colors of red, blue, and yellow, they do not comfort. They bounce nervously above my head, announcing the feelings that vibrate from my heart to my hands and through the ribbons that bind them. This jiggling helium EKG records each nervous heartbeat, illustrating—for all to see—my hidden battle between hope and dread.

The hustle and bustle of the airport passes in front of me unnoticed. I am consumed by what the next few moments will bring. Anxious and excited as a three-year-old waiting in line to sit on Santa Claus’s lap, eyes darting, I watch the passengers from Mariah’s flight hurry through the arrival gate like eager colts racing for the barn. I nervously wait, envisioning my daughter with her long red hair and dark green eyes. As the crowd unfurls, I search each face. A similar young woman, almost a doppelganger of my daughter, strides into view, spiking my tension; an instant feeling of happiness and relief—then no. Hope tides away.

I wonder, Is she still healthy looking, with pink, rosy cheeks and bright, shining eyes, as she was during our détente in Decatur a few months ago? Her new daughter, Lunea, is six months old now. This new granddaughter has become the barbed hook of love pulling on my heart, my hands, and the jittery balloons. My deep wish is to provide safety and love for that new baby, perhaps even more than for my daughter.

These events began when Mariah called me crying a few days ago, pleading with me to help her change her life. She wanted to bring Lunea to live with me expressing how sorry she was promising to go to rehab and go back to school. I could hear the desperation in her voice. She had betrayed my love and trust often. I was uncertain how many more disappointments I could bear.

As Mariah cried on the phone, I heard Lunea’s precious babbling in the background. My heart ached. This new baby girl changed the equation, magnifying the conflict I felt. Was it possible to be in the throes of hope and dread, balanced precariously on a single point in the same instant? Yes. In the face of past painful events, my offer of a new life for my daughter and granddaughter coalesced into a glimmer of light and hope—a dream, really. Could this be, finally, the turning point?

Thoughts of the drama and chaos Mariah could bring to my life relentlessly tromped through my mind. This would be a double dose, Mariah and a baby. It would end the peace I had come to know with Mariah so far away and not in my face. And surely a baby in the house would bring big changes in my quiet and mostly peaceful life. Fears bubbled up. Would she wrap me in her twisted web as in the past? I would have to lock everything up. I would always be looking over my shoulder, on the alert for any indication of continued drug use. Having a baby in the house would bring joy. But would the baby become my responsibility? Grandmothers becoming responsible for grandchildren is a burden well known in our society, today. No mathematician can resolve this equation. It is a decision of the soul. So, I chose to hope and risk testing the paradoxes of walls I had carefully built to protect my heart.

With hope for all good things, I bore it one more time. Red flags were flying all around in my head, but I ignored them. I had to focus on helping my daughter if this was going to work out at all. I turned off the insistent chatter in my head, faced my fears, and made the necessary preparations. I made her airline reservations, sent her travel and taxi money. I paid for her motel stay near the Ocean Park airport for three nights until her departure. Waves of panic began to pulse through my body as lift off day arrived.

It was time. Off I went to the airport. It felt surreal. Soon I would be picking up Mariah and Lunea and bringing them home. Putting hope into action propelling forward motion, I stopped and bought a big rainbow bouquet of helium balloons for her to see as she walked off the plane.

Now, standing in the airport, I am teetering on a razor’s edge, one moment with joyful anticipation, the next moment heavy with dread, a metronome back and forth. While watching the passengers file off the plane one by one, the voices in my head rant:

She will be on the plane?

But she didn’t answer my phone calls last night.

She didn’t answer my calls or my text messages this morning.

She did text me saying she was on the plane as it was leaving Ocean Park.

She didn’t call or text me from Dallas as she promised she would.

Doubt stings my heart. Hope bubbles up, the balloons dancing out an allegrissimo tempo. Yes, my nerves thrum to higher frequencies as the throng of people thins. Finally, the last passenger strides past as my hands quiver fiercely. Grim reality grips my body. The beast is loose. My heart is breaking. I linger a little longer, hoping she is just delayed because she has the baby with her. But there is no sign of Mariah. Blindly, I rush over to baggage claim, frantically searching for a car seat and luggage that have not yet been claimed; the luggage train is empty. Anguish and frustration build. Tears begin to stream down my face. Mariah. Why? Why? Why? Hope drains from my body, leaving it deflated as an empty balloon. The tears are now unquenchable in my bright blue eyes. Slumping down onto a nearby bench, my head in my hands, I sob uncontrollably. The throng passes me by. Most are oblivious to my pain, caught up in their own worlds, but a few reach out with concerned energy and looks of support.

Once outside, I let the balloons go. They drift and float up into the darkening sky, higher and higher, until they fade from sight and take with them my hopes and dreams, fading into the deep desert night, leaving a leaden heart.

PART I

LOSS OF INNOCENCE

CHAPTER 1

MARIAH

My mama always said, "Life was like a box of chocolates.

You never know what you’re gonna get."

—Forest Gump

S taggering to the car, sobbing quietly, I put my head down on the steering wheel. My brain splits into tr acks:

Track 1: Why do I keep falling for her lines? What a fool you are, Mary!

Track 2: What about baby Lunea? What will happen to her? Will she be safe?

Track 3: What the hell is going through Mariah’s head right now? Why does she keep doing this to me? To herself? What is wrong with her?

These cannons in my mind fire back and forth, blasting new craters in my brain, devastating my hopes and foolish assumptions.

Starting the engine, unbidden flashbacks begin streaming through my mind: Mariah’s childhood; the downward spiral into drug addiction; the nature of the woman she is today. A long trail of memories pulls me back to the beginning, almost blinding me as I drive home. During the last seventeen years, while dealing with her deviant, drug-addicted behavior, I have often asked myself, What were you thinking? I could have settled for a family of one child after losing two of my babies at birth. I did not settle. I wanted a daughter. I received her through adoption.

The joy my husband and I found after the birth of our first son, Luke, and the pain we suffered at the loss of two babies fed our desire for a bigger family. As a newly married couple, we had a shared dream about having four children. He was from a family of three children, and I was from a family of eight, which taught us the love of a bigger family. This natural yearning spurred us to seek adoption. We wanted more children in our family to fill our dreams. So, we adopted our son Sean through an adoption service. Even then, our hearts were not yet full or complete. The joy and fulfillment we experienced as adoptive parents motivated us to choose adoption again, this time requesting a baby girl. Reflecting on these desires, drowning in my brokenhearted confusion, the question bubbles up. Would I make the same decision today?

Looking back on these events, I recall how long and arduous the waiting seemed to be after being on the list for four long years. Have you ever waited four years for a single phone call? Just think about it. Waking up every day, 365 days a year, for four years, waiting for one phone call that will be life changing.

Because it took four years to adopt our son Sean, I started making monthly phone calls to the adoption agency after two years passed to see where we were on the list. This waiting game for a daughter was wearing me down. I felt like a woman who desperately wanted to be pregnant, waiting monthly for that specific biological sign that she was going to have a baby, only to awake to disappointment, thwarting her hopes. I began to feel like I would never get my baby girl.

After waiting for more than 1,428 days, it happened, like lightning on a cloudless day. The phone rang. The cold, professional voice could not dull the wondrous news. We have a baby girl for you. She is two weeks old. You need to pick her up in Roaring River in three days. Suddenly, we had to go from zero to one hundred, no baby to fully grown baby in three days. Ecstatic at the news, we wept together, mingling our tears of joy. The waiting game was over. Our family vision filled with brightness as our dreams were becoming a reality. And our growing family was coming into focus. Euphoria permeated our beings as we announced our gift from the angels to all our family and friends.

Pouring rain greeted us as we woke up that morning. The two-hour trip was punctuated by thunder, lightning, and torrential rain heralding our way, presaging storms to come far in the future.

Suddenly, without knowing quite how I arrived, I stare at the garage door. The airport seems like a bad dream and far away. Emerging from my reverie, in the pain of the now, a storm gathers around my heart once again in the darkness and eerie silence of the empty-feeling house. I cannot stop the threads of memories from weaving and mingling with the tears of today and long-ago recollections of the precious baby girl we found as we entered the social worker’s office. Strangely, those ancient tears of joy have morphed and hardened to cold streaks tracing down my face. There she was, our baby girl, bundled up and cozy in the social worker’s lap. She looked up at us with her dark green, almond-shaped eyes. Her hair was shiny red. It was love at first sight for all of us. She was ours, a beautiful baby girl born in our hearts. After returning home that shining day, we celebrated our new baby by hosting a cookout with family, friends, food, and colorful helium-filled balloons.

Questions to Consider

• Mary asks, What is wrong with Mariah? What would be a better question?

• When have you persevered for a long time and achieved a better result than expected?

Now focus for two minutes on how you felt with that accomplishment.

CHAPTER