Poet aims to end stigma of addiction through her art
A storm crackled outside as we spoke, the pounding of rain and the pummeling of hail so loud at times that I could sometimes not clearly make out every word. Still, I understood every word she was saying. And I felt every word New Mexico poet Merimée Moffitt had written in her latest book, “Notes on Serenity — An ABC of Addiction,” a collection of poems and short prose written about the dark journey she was forced to embark upon during her son’s decadeslong drug addiction.
We spoke as two mothers about the power of words and the pain opioid addiction brings, not just to the ones struggling but to those who love them — to the mothers who love their sons but hate their disease.
In many ways, that experience is like a storm, pocking holes in our protective coverings, flooding our way
forward, frightening us with the flash of lightning and the rumble of thunder.
It’s easy to talk about the weather, but not so easy to speak about the disease of addiction. That, Moffitt believes, makes dealing with addiction harder.
“We need to break the silence and the stigma of addiction, and one of the ways to do that, the way I can do that, is to use my art,” she said. “It was my way of coping, making art. But it was also a way to let other people know they’re not alone.” An addicted son is the longest goodbye, stuck in time, alone. — excerpted from “Tragedy in Haiku (newest)”
She remembers when her son was about 13 or 14 and he asked her whether he should try the hit of LSD he had purchased for $5.
“No, of course not, I told him,” she said. “I bought it back from him, and we flushed it down the toilet.”
But more experimentation came. By 16, he had become defiant, distant, partying all night, dropping out of school in ninth grade. She learned later that he started using heroin at age 19.
You know this and he knows this and what you
want is hours every day when you do not think
these thoughts about the upcoming catastrophe
the staggering failure of counting on anything
you can do to save him, your child, the one so utterly addicted to bad decisions — excerpted from
“See-saw”
Nothing she could do — stricter rules, counseling, family therapy, rehab, more love, tough love — could stop him from careering out of control.
“I look back and think there’s just nothing I could have done at the time other than what I did,” she said. “I tried to hold him, but he was like water through my hands. He wasn’t bad; he was just lost.”
It is easy for others who have not dealt with drug addiction to lay blame. Moffitt knows this, and so do I. Sharing my story of my son’s death in 2017 of a heroin overdose left me open to stinging criticisms that I was a bad mom to have raised a junkie who hadn’t deserved to live.
Moffitt said the stigma and the shaming are reminiscent of the early days of the AIDS
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Signed copies of “Notes on Serenity” are available for sale at merimeemoffitt. com. The book is also available through online bookstores such as Amazon. Poet Merimee Moffitt book readings: 4 p.m. Aug. 18, Tortuga Gallery, 901 Edith SE; and 6 p.m. Aug. 28 at Bookworks, 4022 Rio Grande NW. epidemic.
“Oh, my God, the hatefulness and the blame and the ugliness then,” she said. “One wonders if many of those who became sick might have lived longer had we started talking about it sooner, had we started saying that it was a terrible disease, not just stupidity or carelessness or worse, and we needed to find a cure.”
The feeling man, the tender son, joyous dad
so much gone. Fight, my boy,
Stand up and breathe. They say, “Don’t try
to fix. Do not help. He must stand alone.” — excerpted from
“Mama Juice”
On average, 115 Americans die every day of opioid overdoses, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.
Moffitt’s son is not among the dead. After struggling with addiction for more than 20 years, it appears her son, now 46, is firmly on the road to recovery, 11 months clean since completing courtordered treatment at the Four Winds Recovery Center in Farmington, a place that treats addicts with compassion, not condemnation.
During her son’s journey, Moffitt has spent her time obsessively learning about addiction and treatment. It took her years to accept that having an addicted child is no reason to wallow in self-pity and silence.
Her book is her strong voice, breaking the silence, confronting the pain and seeking serenity. The opioid crisis can’t be addressed, she said, until it can be spoken about, openly, honestly, without shame.
The storm lets up by the time our conversation is over. But in the distance, the thunder rumbles.