Living in a world of hope.

jll cover fix

Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive
– Walter Scott

Her friends and family tell her – her son’s an addict. But she doesn’t believe them.

Her world is spinning out of control. Her mind races. Her days are consumed by pain and worry.

People think they know her… but they don`t, not really.

She wears a mask, of sorts…..

Only the mask is heavy, and exhausting.

And it`s starting to slip.

The cracks are beginning to show.

Just as she gets one patched up, another breaks wide-open.

Pretension – it’s such a deadly game to play.

Just how far will one mother go to save her son?

Jagged Little Lies….. available now.

Lorelie Rozzano debuts her first book.So exciting! It is available now. Here is the press release about the book:

Author, Lorelie Rozzano, has taken her own life experience shackled by the chains of addiction and is turning it into a series of fictional novels that weave first-hand experience into compelling stories. The first in that series – Jagged Little Edges – will be available now at www.amazon.com, www.barnesandnoble.com and http://www.omnilit.com for $5.99 US, with a hardcover copy available now.

Rozzano has created a darkly fascinating protagonist in Jagged Little Edges. Lyndsey is a teen living in a world of hurt and abuse, in a family where she is often neglected and beaten, where dysfunction and addiction are ways of life for those around her. Unsurprisingly she seeks some way of easing the pain of her world: “That was how it had felt for her as long as she could remember. Like cuts, coming first in words, as they tore little pieces of her innocence, trust and self worth. Evolving into the physical form, with a smack to the head, a cuff to the ear and at times, welts and bruising on her back side. But by far, the greatest damage of all was what you couldn’t see. A soul, torn asunder, left with an open wound, a vast emptiness and a hunger that screamed to be fed.”

Looking for comfort and love, Lyndsey turns to alcohol and drugs, usually stolen from her parents’ stash, and finds something like a relationship in the arms of a man who seeks only sexual release, someone to beat when he’s angry and someone to help him deal drugs. This bleak companionship is as close to an escape as Lyndsey can find in her brutal world, and for a long time she convinces herself it will get better, that caring and trust might one day be part of her life.

 This tough teen, who yearns for her happily ever after, even though she no longer believes in fairy tales, is determined to create a life for herself. She struggles against poverty, abuse and addiction. She takes you on a ten year journey as she looks for love in all the wrong places. Eventually hopeless, Lyndsey tumbles ever deeper into a life where drugs and alcohol rule her every waking moment, ruining even a relationship with a man who pulls himself out of addiction and tries to help her.

At the point of her darkest hour, help comes, in the form of nothing she would ever have wished for and everything she needed to be well. And even then, she fights it, struggling against her voracious demon addictions whose tenacious hold tests Lyndsey to her ultimate limits.

For Rozzano, a phone call to her parents when she had reached her lowest point, out of work, money and friends due to her addictions, turned things around and brought her to treatment. She has now been living clean and sober for more than 15 years.

And it is this success and desire to share her knowledge and the possibility of help to others that led to the creation of Jagged Little Edges, for she has now found what she needed to soften those edges that were destroying her life.

“The relief I had in becoming well was actually what I had been looking for in drugs and alcohol,” Rozzano explains. It was in treatment at Nanaimo’s Edgewood Treatment Centre that she discovered her strong inner core and learned how to examine her life and behaviours in a brutally honest fashion and to admit just how her addictions had ruled her life for so long.

Rozzano now works at Edgewood and is dedicated to helping others with the lifelong struggle against addiction, Rozzano hopes her books might become a vehicle to get people thinking and talking about addiction and examining the role it plays in their lives.

“My greatest love was addiction,” she recalls. “It was no longer people or life.”

But once she was ready to face the terror that treatment seemed to hold, her life turned around as does that of her heroine Lyndsey. She found her happily ever after. It had been there all along. She’d just never been taught where to look.

And perhaps for someone reading the bleak, painful truths in Jagged Little Edges, there will come a moment of clarity and self-awareness that can help that person also get ready to change. “After all, Rozzano states, if I can get sober, anyone can.”

“Hell isn’t a place we’re going to, if we’re bad. Hell is a place we live, every day.” Lorelie Rozzano.

add mom

The shrill ringing of the phone had me bolting up in bed. My heart is racing. As I reach to pick it up, I remind myself to breathe. I handle the receiver as if it’s a deadly viper. I loathe it. The phone never brings good news. Only bad news and worse. I hope this isn’t worse. I place the phone to my ear, silently praying. Please God, please. I wait with baited breath. My world has just shrunk to me and the phone.

“Mom?”

My throat loosens as a whoosh of air escapes me. He’s alive.Tears blur my vision. I angrily swat them away.

“Mom?”

Anger replaces fear, as I glance at the clock. 3 am. My heart sinks at yet another sleep deprived night.

“Mom!” My son yells.

“What!” I yell back.

My husbands stirs and sits up. Rubbing his eyes he moans, “not again!”

I push him back down. I got this. Besides, I don’t want him interfering. I know how to handle our son.

“Mom,” Jack sobs. “You’re never gonna believe what just happened.”

My heart sinks. I pull up the bed covers wondering if I should just hang up. Well, I’m not really wondering, I know I should. Jack’s 3 am tales are never a good thing.

“Mom, are you even listening to me?” Jack has morphed back in time. He is six years old and about to have a temper tantrum.

I scrub my eyes, still wondering what to do. There are no good choices. I am dammed if I do, and sick with worry, if I don’t.

“Jesus Mom!” Jack gears up, his tone shrill. “What kind of mother are you?. They’re gonna kill me, I swear! Don’t you even care?”

Jack wanted to pull me back into the – you don’t care about me game – I wasn’t going to play. Instead I said. “Jack, let’s cut to the chase. What do you want?”

Jack snorted. “Wow, Mom! That’s nice. Do you even care they’re gonna kill me?”

Something cold and hard blossoms in the pit of my chest. It might be despair, or exhaustion, or just plain hopelessness. Jack and I have been down this road a thousand times before.

‘You know that guy that I was helping?” Jack is off. He should be an actor. He is believable. I should know, I’ve fallen for his lines a million times.

“What guy?” I ask playing my part, because I don’t know what else to do.

“Jesus Mom! Haven’t you been listening? The guy that was sleeping on my couch! Well he’s gone and he took my money!”

I bit my tongue. I had too. There was so much I wanted to say. I knew this imaginary character didn’t take my son’s money. My son spent his money. Most likely on drugs.

“So anyway,” Jack rushed on, “I kinda, well, Mom…” He trailed off. He waited. He wanted me to urge him to finish.

I didn’t. I stayed silent.

“Mom?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“It’s pretty bad.” He warned me.

“Jack, it’s late. Can this wait til morning?”

“Mom!” Jack screeched. “I’ll be dead by morning!”

I pulled the phone away from my ear. I held it to my pounding chest. I wanted my son to hear it. The distress I was in was unbelievable. Sometimes I thought my heart would explode. BANG! At least it would be over.

A tear slipped down my cheek. Was this ever going to end? A horrible thought entered my mind. Yes, when you or he is dead. Then it will end.

I wondered if other mothers planned their son’s funerals. I did. I looked at caskets and thought about what I would say. I yearned for peace, and I’d know where to visit him. He wouldn’t be suffering any more, and I could finally grieve the loss of my son.

I shook my head. I hated these thoughts.

“I need a hundred bucks!” Jack yelled, bringing me back.

I sighed. I glance over at my husband. He had fallen back to sleep. Something hot and bitter filled my throat. How could he sleep, for Christ’s sake?

With the phone pressed to my ear, I got of of bed. Might as well. I wouldn’t be going back to sleep again.

“Where are you Jack?”

“I’m outside my apartment. I don’t want to go home til I get the money. They know where I live. I promised I would have it for them tonight and if I don’t.- Jack stopped abruptly.

“Jack?”

“Sshh, Mom.” He warned. “I think they’re here.

Alarm slammed through me. My logical mind knew they was probably someone Jack had made up. But my emotions over rode logic at the thought of my son being harmed, or worse yet, killed.

Holding tightly to the phone – it had gone from being a deadly viper to a life saving ring – I dressed. Grabbing my purse and keys I headed for the door. “Okay Jack,” I soothed. “I’m on my way. Meet me in front of your place.”

“Thanks Mom. You don’t know what this means.” Jack purred. He was such a charmer when he was getting his way.

I think it was his charm, I was addicted to. Gone was the exhaustion. I felt like I could fly. I had hope. I was saving my baby!

“And Mom?” Jack asked in that ‘one more thing’ voice, I hated.

“What honey?” I said rather impatiently.

“Could you bring an extra twenty bucks? I’m kinda hungry.”

As if someone had pricked my balloon, all the feel good air was gone. I was back at angry. How dare he ask me for another twenty bucks! Jack was selfish. Nothing was ever good enough. He always wanted more! Couldn’t he see what he was doing to me?

Torn between wanting to help him and hating his disease, I stand in a land where no mother should ever dwell.

Hell isn’t a place we’re going to, if we’re bad.

Hell is something an addict’s Mom lives with, every day.

Lorelie Rozzano.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Starting tomorrow my books, Jagged Little Edges and Jagged Little Lies, will be on sale for 99 cents ( e books only) This is a once a year sale only. The sale will last throughout this following weekend (August 28 – Sept 2)  and then not again until this time next year. I hear from many of my readers who say the Jagged series, (I write about addiction) has helped them to make the necessary changes to their lives and to understand addiction in a way they never before did. Please feel free to check out the reviews on Amazon. If you’d like to purchase your copies just click on the links below. If you honestly can’t afford 99 cents, I will buy one for you. Please share this post so that those that need to read them, can.

http://www.amazon.com/Jagged-Little-Lies-Lorelie-Rozzano-ebook/dp/B00HNDDC3O/ref=pd_sim_kstore_1?ie=UTF8&refRID=14HAWPKMDEPR2KXNVF9X

http://www.amazon.com/Jagged-Little-Edges-Lorelie-Rozzano-ebook/dp/B00B1SICCI/ref=pd_sim_kstore_1?ie=UTF8&refRID=0RC4B4TM0ZGZ354JAR2V

jll cover fix

keep the lesson
I’m lucky to work in a treatment centre where I get to see first-hand what happens to addicts when they use. With a little time in, it’s easy to forget the devastation addiction caused. There are days I still wish I could use. I’d like to feel the buzz again and be more sociable. Although I enjoy the solitude and quiet in my sobriety. I must confess, there are times I am envious of those ‘normies’ who can drink their faces off, and then put it down. Sometimes I miss the chaotic, crazy parties. Not to mention the flirting and gossip and the sense of belonging, that is falsified, by copious amounts of liquid courage. Sounds good eh? Trouble is, my buzz comes with a whole bunch of shit that I don’t want. For me they don’t come separate. I pick up the buzz, I pick up the shit. A few hours of buzz and it wears off. The shame doesn’t. Now I’m back to being a big fat loser. One that just broke a bunch of hearts. That’s if I’m lucky. Many of us pick up the buzz, and end up dead. If you’re missing the buzz, it’s normal. Play the tape through. Don’t stop at the buzz, because you can’t stay buzzed forever. We all have another relapse in us. Sometimes I can feel it, hiding, in the dark recesses of my mind, whispering. It whispers of suspicions and complaints and lies. Restless, irritable and discontent, come to mind. God this illness is cunning. But mostly, it’s patient.
www.jaggedlittleedges.com

let go baby

My dear child,

I feel like I’m saying goodbye to you, and in a way, I suppose I am. I will always love you. I want the very best for you and I’m prepared to do the most un-natural thing, a mother can ever do. My minds screams, I’m abandoning you. Oh, I know you’re all grown up, but to me, you’ll always be my baby. That’s part of the problem. My nature is to protect you. I see you broken and despairing, and I am broken and despairing too. If you had cancer, or heart disease, I would fight tooth and nail to get you the care you need. In a strange way, this is me fighting. It’s the hardest fight I’ve ever fought. It would be far easier to stand at your hospital bed, knowing that what I was doing was helping you. But there is no hospital bed. There is no cancer, or heart disease. What there is – is an insidious little secret – one that has grown into a horrible, ugly beast. It is devouring you alive, and me, along with it. I’ve watched this monster grow. I pleaded with it. I’ve coddled it. I’ve even nurtured it. I’ve done everything I can think of to make this THING go away, but it is relentless. I am left to face the truth. You my precious child, are an addict. An addict! Oh my God! I can barely say it. I feel sick. I HATE that word. And yet, it is true. Why does the truth have to be so hard? Even harder, is what I still have to do. All my life I have watched over you and now I have to set you free. Not because I want too. Because I NEED to. It’s the only thing I can do, that might save your life. But the process may also end it. I’m told by other addicts and professionals, and other Mom’s who have gone before me, there is a far greater chance you will have success and get clean, if I do this. Almost always, this works. Believe me, almost, is nowhere near comforting enough. If I wasn’t sure, I was helping you to die, I would never choose this. But here I am, between a rock and hard place. With no good choices, only hard, and worse ones. Before I let you go, know this. I am here for you, ALWAYS. I am here for YOU. Not for your disease, but the you, I know hides deep down inside of the addict, somewhere. Whether you get clean by intervention, or you growing weary of the consequences, now that you’ll be dealing with them, or be it by divine intervention, this insanity will stop. If you ever thought it might be hard quitting drugs, my dear, you should try walking away from your child! I know we’ve both grown sick with this monster. You’re not the only one who needs help. I do too. I promise you I will do everything that is asked of me, even if I think I’m going to hate every minute of it. I’ll do it, because I know if I do, you might. I promise not to ask you to do anything, that I won’t do. I would ask you to take care, but you will only smile and nod, and carry on as before. The words would only make me feel better. They’re of no use to you. So instead, I shall give you to God. I don’t know who else to trust with you. I’ll wrap you in your favourite baby blanket. The one you dragged behind you until it was nothing but rags. I will pray for you and for me. I will pray that we both have the strength to do the next right thing, even, when it feels so wrong.

Go with God, my dear sweet child. May we both find peace.

Love Mom.

Lorelie Rozzano.

http://www.jaggedlittleedges.com

hands let go

glass jar
What if you took all your painful experiences, and used them as fuel for self-improvement?
What if you took every tear and sob, every muffled scream, every negative thought, and gathered them all together?
Imagine a large empty, glass jar.
A really big one.
Now imagine extracting those painful thoughts and images from your head and and your heart, and placing them inside the glass jar.
Be thorough.
Recall every real and imagined fear. Every argument. Every unanswered phone call. Every sleepless night. Every broken promise. Every lump in your throat. All the horrible things that have been done to you. All the things you’d wished you said, and all the things you wished you didn’t.
When you’re sure there is nothing left, place the lid on the jar.
Screw the lid down tight.
Now place the jar in a small dark room. Perhaps in a cupboard, or in the back of a closet.
At first you may feel a little strange without the familiar, but exhausting, shroud of despair.
Don’t fret, this is normal. You may even notice that you feel lighter. You can see clearly. Your mind is not racing and you feel calm.
A disturbing thought crosses your mind.
What if this feeling doesn’t last?
Go immediately to the cupboard and pull out the glass jar.
Empty this thought into it and walk away.
Very soon your glass jar will become a routine. Just as you clean your house, so will you clean your mind.
There are times you may feel nostalgic. You may choose to visit your glass jar. It will be always be there in that small, dark place.
A word of caution. Make your visits, brief.
After time, you notice the glass jar looks different.
The thoughts and experiences inside of it, have become a thing of the past.
Wisdom has replaced the power your thoughts and fears, once held over you.
The jar has done it’s job.
The fuel of heartbreak, seen through time and clear glass, has given you a new strength and freedom.
A new thought enters your mind.
What if your only job is in becoming the person, you wished everyone else would be?
Lorelie Rozzano.
http://www.jaggedlittleedges.com
new-day

enabling

Care-giving is doing for others what they can’t do for themselves. An example of this would be bathing and feeding your baby, or helping an elderly person cross the street.
Care-taking is doing for others what they can do for themselves. For example, cleaning your teenagers room when they were able to clean it themselves.

You will know the difference by the way you FEEL. Care-giving leaves you feeling peaceful and content, while care-taking leaves you feeling exhausted and resentful.

Codependency is feeling responsible for another persons behaviour and/or choices. It fits well with addiction in a key and lock scenario. A codependent feels okay when the addict feels okay and when they don’t feel okay, the codependent feels anxious and guilty and tries harder to accommodate the addict’s needs. This is the key. The addict needs the codependent to look after their consequences. They have a full time job trying to stay high and cleaning up their messes would only get in the way of using. The codependent is crucial to the addict’s staying sick. Addict’s need codependent’s to sweep up their mess. The addict can’t stay sick without the codependent. This is the lock.

The codependent will be the ‘go to’ person in the family. They will be the ones practising care-taking or enabling behaviours. The codependent often feels they understand the addict better than the rest of the family and will protect him or her by keeping their secrets. They will make excuses for this person and often violate their own moral ethics to stay in the relationship.

Both parties look to each other to solve their problems. They often isolate themselves from other family members. They have a love hate-relationship. Both are acting out in ugly, sick behaviours.

Both the addict and the codependent will progress to terminal stages if not intervened upon. The addict crosses the line into the terminal stage where they no longer care. They are apathetic and not interested in fighting to get clean and/or sober. The codependent crosses the line from being concerned, into being consumed. Their world is falling apart, as is their health and relationships.

If you or a family member love someone with addiction, the most helpful thing you can do for THEM, is get support for YOU. Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. You can’t use the same thinking that got you into this, to get you out.

To truly move beyond addiction you must live in transparency. No more secrets or isolation. Reach out and ask for help. Be willing to do all the things that would be required of your addict to get well. Like going to meetings and counselling sessions and attending family programs in rehab if possible.

Don’t wait for someone else to change. Be the change. The rest will have a better chance of falling into place, once you do.
Lorelie Rozzano.
http://www.jaggedlittleedges.com

Going-To-Be-Worth-It1-570x250
People often ask me why I write about such a difficult topic. I write about addiction for 2 reasons. First so that I never forget what I’d become – inhuman and deranged. Second so that families stand a chance against addiction. Addicts manipulate, lie, cheat and steal. They use YOUR love to their advantage. I know because I too, behaved in this way. Addicts will do what ever it takes to get their next fix. They are SICK and their illness is all consuming. No other illness is as powerful nor can it destroy entire families, the way addiction can.
Learning how to love your addict without enabling their illness is extremely difficult. I pray my posts encourage both families members and addicts to get the help they so desperately need, and deserve.

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