To All the Children Who Have Lost a Parent to Suicide

To all the children who have lost a parent to suicide:

September 5, 2011 my dad shot himself.

When I was 9 years old my dad put a gun to his head and pulled the trigger. My mom told me he lost the battle with not feeling he was good enough and was in so much pain he felt like he could not live anymore.

I was barely 9, when I lost the greatest love of life. People say I am too young to know love. People say kids don’t know real life love or loss. But I disagree. I felt love the moment I was born and my dad held me in his arms. I know I felt love because as I grew up I felt safe whenever he was in the room. When he would walk in the room, I felt like the luckiest kid in the world. I wondered if all dads were as great as my dad. When he cheered for me at my volleyball games his voice was the loudest, even when we lost, he stayed until the very end. Sometimes, he would get angry at me for not doing homework or talking back but even when angry I felt love. My dad believed I could do anything and when He told me I could do anything I believed him.

I know my dad’s suicide wasn't my fault. And it wasn’t my brother’s fault, or my mom’s fault. It wasn’t even my Dad’s fault. Sometimes, I feel like it was God’s fault. But, now after some time, I realize that God didn't take my Dad away for no reason or out of anger. He did it because my Dad served his purpose.

My Dad’s purpose was to show me and everyone around him that kindness and lightheartedness are two very important things you need in life. My dad was the best role model. He showed me so many important skills. My Dad was such a gentleman. My mom was so lucky to have fallen in love with him. My Dad would do anything in the world to keep me and my brother safe. When walking on the sidewalk he would stand on the side where the cars were passing to protect me from traffic.

My Dad had so many people who cared for and loved him. He had family and friends who would take a bullet for him but instead he took a bullet for us. I believe that he chose to end his pain for us. I think he didn’t want us to see him pretend anymore. He wanted his wonderful amazing smile to be real but it wasn’t. Behind his electric blue eyes, he was suffering and could not hide it anymore so, he did the unimaginable, and took a bullet to his head.

Suicide is a crazy thing to wrap your head around. It makes no sense. No one knew how much my dad was suffering. On the outside, he seemed happy. He accomplished a lot in his life. He was most proud of his years in the United States Coast Guard and had a love of baseball and world history. He played every day with me and my brother and supported my mom in her career of intervention and television. No one would have guessed that on the inside was a deep dark secret of depression and twisted thoughts that took him over.

For a long time, after my dad’s death, I would shut people out and cry. I hated it. I felt so alone and so sad. My mom told me every day that I was loved, it was not my fault and I was not alone. I struggled with trying to understand why my dad left us but with the help of family, friends and therapy, I know he did not leave us, he simply could stay any longer. It was not personal to me and even the love for his children, could not fight the painful dark thoughts in with head.  

I felt like I went hell and back again the day I found out my dad committed suicide. 6 years ago, I never thought the pain I felt in my heart would end. I believed that life would never make sense and that I would never laugh or smile again, but it does get better. I have a heartache every day but it's getting smaller as more time passes. The pain feels different and easier to live with.

I learned very young, that life has surprises that we never expect, ask for or even agree with but I wouldn't trade a single second of my life. I feel this experience has been a blessing and a curse.
Knowing that I have my dad in heaven guiding me in my life, is definitely a blessing, that not many people have but, knowing that I will never physically see him again, is a terrible curse.

I try to focus on the blessing. My Dad will not see me grow up, and that is one of the hardest things I will ever face. Knowing that he won't be there on the day I turn 16, or the day I leave for college, or my wedding day, brings me down at times but these struggles have only made me stronger.

My Dad’s death left a huge impact on me but it has made me who I am today and I love who I am. I have turned my greatest pain into an experience that I use to help others. I am wiser and more sensitive. I am a better friend and daughter. I appreciate every day and I know no matter how much life can hurt, it always gets better.

I hear terrible things about suicide in the media and in public. People are afraid to even say the word. It doesn’t matter who you are or what you have, we all have really hard feelings and thoughts at times. Sometimes, I feel people judge my dad for killing himself and my mom for not be able to save him but I will not allow suicide to my dad’s legacy. It is how he left but it is not how he lived. I have his blue eyes, his nose, big smile, long hands and most importantly his lighthearted and kind attitude.

No one will ever change how I feel about my dad or my family. I will always remember my Dad as one of the greatest heroes in my life.

In loving memory of John Wandzilak.

Everyone is so Beautiful on Instagram

"Everyone is so beautiful on Instagram. Their lives look so perfect. What is wrong with me?" my 17 year old female client said.

We as a culture are assaulted everyday with pictures of perfection. Photos that are edited with filters and lighting posted with quotes of the great spiritual giants, of past and present, raising the bar of everyday life so high, that no one can achieve it. Our teen girls are comparing themselves, their value and purpose to the Instagram feeds that display perfect bodies, perfect relationships, and perfect lives.

We need to teach our girls not to believe everything you see on social media. No life is perfect. Everyone will experience pain and loss in their lives. Every body is flawed and it is the flaws that make us unique. Eating gluten free bagels and drinking green juice, posing for photos, in some of the most beautiful places on earth does not mean a person has life figured out, or is on higher spiritual plane. Trust me, gluten free bagels taste like cardboard and green juice will give you diarrhea, if you drink too much.

What Instagram doesn’t show:

High school can suck.It can be painful and girls can be mean.

You will have days that you miss your lunch because you are hiding in the locker-room with your beautiful face buried in your hands, because your best friend snap chatted a party you were not invited to.

You will be left out at times.

You may have your heart broken by the boy you have had a crush on since 7th grade.

You may fail a test, or a class, or mess up on that stupid useless dance routine you have to learn for PE.

Your tampon may drop from your bag in front of the football team, turning your face bright red and your legs and arms will feel numb with searing embarrassment.

You might not be invited to prom, and the dress you bought in hopes that the cute boy from math class just might ask you, will hang in your closet. Unworn. Or maybe that cute boy from math class, will ask your friend to the dance. And she might say yes. It will hurt but it will pass and you will survive.

You might have sex for the first time, drunk at a party, with the totally hot senior, that all the girls like, only to be ignored the next day.

And you will fight with your parents, screaming that they don’t understand you, slamming your door and dive into your bed, safe under the covers, watching Netflix and hiding from the world.

Most of the time you will walk around feeling lost, confused and awkward, doubting yourself, trying to hold it all together, smiling widely, so no one actually knows how lost, confused and awkward you feel.

And at the end of all this, on your bed at night, you will look at Instagram and Snapchat, and all the stunning pictures of perfect bodies and lives, only to end up feeling less than everyone else. Do not go to battle with IG, by comparing your insides to the outsides of your followers, you will lose. Every time.

The pictures you see on social media platforms are only pictures. It is not real life but an image captured, in perfect time, to show a perfect story in a seemingly perfect life.

The most unforgettable moments will be captured in your mind and on your heart, not on a camera. The feeling of a first kiss, when your knees go weak and your head spins with exhilaration, the feeling of passing your Chemistry final after weeks of anxiety and hours of studying, and the feeling of your mom or dad, sitting at your bedside, touching your back gently and reminding you how much they love you, cannot be captured in a video or a photo.

Do not believe what you see. Behind every perfect photo is a great camera. I promise, in only a few years from right now, no one will remember how drunk you got at the senior prom, kissed a boy that was not yours, and threw up in the back seat of your best friend’s car.

Life is not an Instagram feed.

Sober and shameless, Kw

Failure and Success

In our relapse prevention group the question of success and failure often arise. Many clients
struggle with the feeling of failure as a consequence of relapse, feeling crippled with shame.

I do not believe in success or failure. I believe in experiences. Some more enjoyable than others, but all of them opportunities to learn and expand as a person. The terms success and failure are a creation of ego and a social barometer of a value of a person and their choices. I moved away from the labels many years ago.

Relapse is not failure. It is a deeply shaming to attach the judgmental term to a disease and the
process of recovery. This belief keeps people from seeking help once relapse has occurred and is a breeding ground for the internal torture that cripples’ addicts from ‘coming back’. Shame is the universal haunting of the addicted mind and the most powerful kindling for the raging fire of self-hatred and regret that follows a relapse episode.

We need to move away from viewing relapse as a failure.

When guided by a trusted professional, relapse can be a turning point in a person recovery.
What is viewed as a failure or a setback can be the greatest lesson in a person’s life which in
turn, can lead to lifelong sobriety. There is no shame in relapse, only an opportunity to learn.
Full Circle is a safe and inviting place, for clients to return for help, guidance and inspiration. If we can can make it as simple and gentle to return to treatment or self-help programs, by dispelling the belief of success and failure, reducing shame, addicted men and women will return and will begin again.

In my 24 years sober I have learned that I can never sit in judgement of another’s path. I believe that my spiritual and professional purpose is to keep the back doors to recovery as wide open as the front. My many years working in the treatment industry, have shown me, that although I may not be able to understand the journey of another, I am in no position to question it but rather help guide through the emotional mine field and help find the life lesson.

Some of the most considered successful people I know, are the least I admire and equally, some
who are considered failures, those who struggle and continue to fight for themselves, are my
greatest teachers. Once I let go of defining my experiences, both professionally and personally,
as successful or failures, life became a playground. A wide-open space to try new things, take risks, to say yes to opportunities that are terrifying and to fall down and get up again. I have said yes to every opportunity that has presented itself along my way, no longer afraid of failure but open to the challenge to face my fears, be brave and learn humility. I take no pride or shame in the outcome of any of my adventures, in life or career.

No longer defined by the terms and labels, I am truly free, to live large and be brave. Since letting go of any attachment to the outcome of my choices, or how others view me, life has become an arena of endless opportunities. I hope to inspire others to say Yes. To be unafraid. Take risks. Be uncomfortable. Be brave. Play, Struggle, stand still and hurt, take chances and through all of life’s experiences, evolve into people who simply, inspire others to live. Relapse is not an end but the beginning of someone new. I will stand my post, without shame or pride, hold the doors of recovery open and keep the fire of hope burning. Come home. We are waiting.

If success and failure, are illusions, what would you do with your one life?

Sober and shameless, Kw

Do Interventions Really Work?

Working as an interventionist for the last 23 years, I have been a maverick in the field, swimming against the current “surprise model” so much the center of many reality shows and the media. I don’t believe in subjecting unsuspecting addicts to surprise attacks. All my research, studies and practice have continually reinforced the belief that addiction is a family disorder. We need to move from the idea that we’re treating addicts as flawed individuals to an approach that recognizes that addiction is a family disease.

I specialize in an open and inclusive model of intervention. Where, with coaching, the addicted person does become aware of the intervention. The message being that we as a family are ready for change, and we would like you to join us, but with or without you, we are moving forward.

My main problem with the surprise method is that the process is entirely addict-focused, with the whole family’s health hanging on its most dysfunctional member. I do not want the success of my interventions--and the health of my clients--to be contingent on the choices of the most impaired person. There was a time in my career that I considered getting a person into treatment a great success but I’ve learned over the years that this is actually the easiest part of my job. The real challenge is working with the families. There can be one person drinking and many people affected by addiction. Why create an intervention for just one person when the whole family is hurting and needing help? I consider it a successful intervention when I have a family who is looking at their caretaking and enabling behaviors and at their own relationships with the addict and asking themselves, “How did we get here?” “What is my part in this?” “What can I change in me that will benefit my life and my family?”

Families and partners play a major role in the progression of every addiction. Behind every addict is a codependent, and the main thrust of my job is to collapse the codependent inter-family structures that allow addiction to progress. Often driven by misguided love and loyalty the codependency will cripple the addict and splinter the family. Trying to control and contain addiction will result in many lost and unhappy years. Families don’t have to wait for their addicted relatives to decide to change their lives. They have power to influence the lives and decisions of their loved one. Families can create an atmosphere of curiosity by changing their behaviors and reactions to the addiction. Families are engaged in a sophisticated and deadly dance but when family members decide to change the ways they interact with troubled members, addicts will shift their behavior in return.

I’ve come to understand that underneath the massive weight of addiction is a lost, hurting, terrified, good and decent person. The skill of a great interventionist is to be able to access that person quickly and effectively. I don’t think that surprising a person with their closest friends and family is the way to begin a trusting relationship. It is my job not just to get addicts help but also to inspire change and it’s my calling to ignite the small flicker of light that is buried deep within every addict. And I begin this connection by being honest, up front and respectful.

With the invitational process, 95 percent of the time, the addicted person will join the intervention day but in cases where they don't, the intervention continues as it is as much for the family as the addict. Families do not have to suffer with addiction; they can heal, with or without, their loved one. We look at addiction, codependency and enabling and caretaking behaviors. If the addict agrees to treatment, he or she leaves as soon as possible. If help isn't accepted, we talk about how the relationships in the family will have to change. Either way, treatment recommendations are made for each member of the family.

"Aftervention" – a copy righted concept -- is when we come back together, once the addicted person and the family have completed their treatment plans. We look at how far they have come as individuals therefore creating a healthier family system that is in recovery. Aftervention is a beautiful time of reflection and commitment moving forward.

While working as an interventionist is not always easy but it is fulfilling and I consider a great privilege to have spent half my life helping addicts and families. I am fueled and driven in this endeavor by my hard-earned personal experience with addiction, education and my great passion for addicts and their families. Recovery is possible and families do heal, change and grow.

I meet people and their most broken, create a connection and help illuminate the way out. I have a front seat to watching the most extra ordinary stories of redemption. I am humbled and forever grateful for this career that has taken me on great adventures and to the door steps of some of the most exceptional families. Like the faint smell of a beautiful perfume that lingers in the room, long after the person is gone, so it is with every family I have ever worked with. I carry on my heart a piece of every intervention: I am changed. I am stronger and I am wiser for this work. I thank every family that has trusted me enough to open your door and lives to me, you are my greatest teachers and I am better for having met you.

Sober and shameless, Kw