Just a little into sobriety, I purchased a little black dress. I bought it with excitement for the annual Purple and black dinner hosted by Kathy herself. The Jake Koenigsdorf foundation is doing all it can to educate, support, and save the suffering. This dress was to be worn to stand and tell my redemption story; to wear with humility and pride. Always a dynamic combo. Husband by my side. A survivor his self. The colors that night, a sign of support and love and warrior mentality in the recovery world.
Why did I not realize how much I would wear this little black dress?
Just one occasion then I would deem it useless. Pack it away with my husband’s black tie and memories of that night. How could I not have recognized all the emotions that I would feel, fight, and release while wearing it? As someone in recovery, who loves hundreds, thousands, of addicts, how did I not grasp at purchase, how many caskets I would stand in front of? All, in this little black dress. The pain I’d witness. The weeping I’d hear from the moms and dads. Uncontrollable, loud weeping that describes the pain words can’t. I heard that today while wearing my little black dress. The children in the pictures surrounding the casket. Pictures of mommy sober; 3 months. 6 months. A year. Home from rehab. Smiles of love and hope. Mommy is back. Now she is gone, and this time forever. Babies looking on from the front row of the funeral home. The childhood best friend questions if they were there enough; If they could have kept him sober if their paths would have stayed connected instead of separating when addiction planted a fork in the road. Regret plagues the faces, also wearing little black dresses and suit jackets. I guess I knew I’d see fellow brothers and sisters go in and out of recovery. I’d be in denial if I said no one I knew would die with a needle in their arm or a bottle by their bed. But to actually have to go to the back of my closet to get out that black dress, time and time again? Death is so surreal each time, but addiction is trying to teach how really really real it is.
So to the survivors and the ones playing Russian roulette with the dope game today. Get yourself a little black dress bc you’re going to need one. You’re either going to wear it to stand in front of the casket or wear it in your casket.
The choice is yours. I hope you choose wisely.
Maybe if everyone chooses wisely; if everyone chooses hope and faith and recovery, I can throw that f**king black dress away. For good.
I love you all, near and far. Reach out. There is hope.
– Jenn from Ohio
