Hope Shared

By Melissa R. Plank CPSS

By sharing my lived experiences and formal education, I desire to help others achieve recovery throughout the individual's process of gaining control over their own life and the direction they want it to go.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Dec 13, 2023
• ISBN: 9798889604877

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Hope Shared

Melissa R. Plank, CPSS

Copyright © 2023 MELISSA R. PLANK, CPSS

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2023

The author has shared the events and details of this book solely from her memories of them. She has omitted some names and identifying characteristics to the best of her ability to protect the anonymity of those individuals within those events.

ISBN 979-8-88960-481-5 (pbk)

ISBN 979-8-88960-886-8 (hc)

ISBN 979-8-88960-487-7 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1

Connection

Chapter 2

Used

Chapter 3

Strength

Chapter 4

Tears

Chapter 5

Memories

Chapter 6

Hope

Chapter 7

Laughter

Chapter 8

Opportunity

Chapter 9

Wisdom

Chapter 10

Recovery

About the Author

To those that have been my light in my darkest times, my hope in my deepest despair, and my guide to find my place in this world

Introduction

I want this book to be about the power of connection and shared hope. I didn't want to base it on heartache and despair, disappointment and trauma, or even broken dreams and devastation. But I've discovered that it is absolutely necessary to share all my stories wholeheartedly to be completely vulnerable to the process of connection. Through my lived experience, I hope to offer encouragement, strength, and hope that will serve you well in all areas of your life. I want you to know that it is only by the grace of God, those who love me, and my willingness to forge on that I have made it through this journey that is my life. I own my story, the good, the bad, and everything in between. I love myself today because of it. I will continue to be brave enough to see it through to the end.

In September 2020, I was introduced to rock bottom. I had been getting my ass handed to me by the disease of addiction repeatedly for over a decade. Starting with a well-meant prescription from an inattentive psychiatrist, regardless of my family's history of addiction to methamphetamine, he loosely ordered me up a legal form of the stimulant. I did not have the medical condition that it was intended to treat, but I surely would benefit from the side effects. The endless energy, little need for sleep, and productivity level were most impressive. The fact that I was over one hundred pounds my recommended weight seemed to be a challenge this medication was willing to take on with no further action by me. Just pop the bottle, toss in a pill, and swallow, and the life I knew was gone. Now, of course, I no longer blame my doctor for my addiction to stimulants. I was aware that I was spinning out of control and chose, for whatever reason, to let go of the life I had for the life that would allow me to be everything I wasn't. I wasn't invincible, but I felt like I was when I was loaded. As with most addicts, I graduated from that prescription to full-blown crystal meth. I was done for. But enough was enough. I had betrayed everyone I loved and that loved me. This poem will explain it better.

Six Months Ago

Six months ago my world came crashing down,

At rock bottom is where I was found.

I had a choice to make and make it fast,

Either start anew or hold on to my past.

If I started new, there'd be lots to do,

But in my past I would never last.

The pain, the shame, the blaming game,

The same old thing day after day.

So I set myself free with rigorous honesty,

Letting go of the shame that imprisoned me.

I owned my story while loving myself,

Setting strong boundaries with everyone else.

I opened my mind to a new way of thinking,

My willingness became less painstaking.

Sponsor found, steps begun,

I learned new ways to have some fun.

With blind faith I came to believe,

That I can achieve anything.

—Melissa Plank, March 19, 2021

Chapter 1

Connection

Connection: noun: a relationship in which a person, thing, or idea is linked or associated with something else

I believe that the need for connection is a basic human need. If we do not connect to someone or something that is good, then we will most certainly connect to something or anything that is bad. For me connection is like plugging a fan into a wall. For the fan to turn on, it must connect to the electricity within the wall, or it is useless. Now I have given a fan the benefit of the doubt and tried to make a connection with a different outlet, often getting the same result as the initial attempt. To be rendered useless is the disconnection that leads us in desperation to find anything we can relate to. Once a connection is made, then growth begins. It can be a connection to a drug, alcohol, or any other addiction. Or it can be to our families, communities, or our careers. In the prior, it is a false sense of connection. There is nothing meaningful or rewarding about being connected to anything addictive. It may provide us with a sense of belonging when we are surrounded by others fighting a similar disease of dysfunction, but it is not a true connection. To reach our full potential, we absolutely have to obtain a genuine connection within our own world, a connection that nurtures us, inspires us, and lifts us up when we find ourselves broken, lost, and stuck in shame. Empathy is a way we can connect to one another, but it cannot come from a place that holds pity for us. It must come from a place of unconditional love, acceptance, and hope.

Within that connection, we begin to discover our place of belonging, followed by our sense of worth. Anyone that was brought up in a home where chaos, abuse, neglect, abandonment, addiction, or trauma flourished can tell you that feeling like them being worthy of love and belonging was nonexistent. How is it that someone learns to value themself when the adults in their lives found no value in them? How could a child be raised in a home with neglect and find themself worthy of belonging? I can tell you that it isn't impossible, but without something profound occurring in their lives, the possibilities are bleak. I've learned that I was an addict long before I filled that first prescription. I was addicted to the rush of adrenaline that stemmed from drama, chaos, and turmoil. It wasn't that I enjoyed it by any means. But I was familiar with it. And maybe I felt that if I created it, then somehow I could control it, unlike when I was a child and was completely powerless over my out-of-control parents. Or maybe it was knowing that there would always be something waiting in the darkness, perhaps the other shoe to drop, that created the anxiety that was constantly catastrophizing any upcoming possible events. Whatever it was, it was both learned behavior and the methods I created to survive the childhood I had that had now carried over into my adult life.

I had passed the dreaded age of fifty before going into recovery. That was a lot of years of falsehoods and lies I had come to believe about myself that I had to now somehow sort through. This was the profound event that happened in my life that would be the starting point of not just my recovery from addiction—that was the simple part—but from my childhood.

It was truly the most pivotal moment in my life. I had a choice to make, and I made it. I chose recovery. I had no idea what that meant at the time. I just knew what the alternative was, and I was not okay with living my life that way for one more minute. I had no idea that what was ahead of me would surpass all the pain I was feeling or at least I thought I was feeling. But when the drugs were out of my system and I had entered into the intensive outpatient program (IOP) through Brighton Recovery for my twelve weeks of skill building, group activities, and exposing my core to a room full of alcoholic men, who were easily annoyed with my crying and need for constant reassurance that I was not a piece of crap, I began to truly recover.

I surely must fit in here, I thought to myself. We are addicts, we are dysfunctional, and our lives have become unmanageable, right? But I was not a man or an alcoholic. I had never been arrested or in trouble with the