Learning from Addiction and Death

I have no predictions about what my life and the years I am blessed to have on this earth will bring. The only thing I can confidently say is that 2023 will go down as a year that likely will not be repeated. For those of you new to my story, you can cozy up for 2 hours and get to know me a little more if you so choose.

There is no denying that the two largest aspects of the year were the acceptance of myself as an alcoholic and the loss of a daughter. On May 15th I checked into a 28 day intensive inpatient rehab for my alcoholism. It was the first time I ever said, ‘my name is Kyle, I am an alcoholic’. On May 28th, I found out that my wife was pregnant with our 2nd child. On August 8th we discovered that our unborn daughter had an incredibly rare spontaneous genetic condition. On November 15th we moved to Minnesota to seek care during the birth and the inevitable battle that lay ahead for our little girl. On December 20th Lucy Pieper Zibrowski was born. On December 27th, Lucy passed away peacefully between her mother and me.

So what now - I could be furious with the world for how it brought so much heartache and suffering into our lives this past year or I could be awestruck by the fact that things happened perfectly this year. Without accepting my alcoholism when I did and receiving the care that I needed for myself, I would not have been able to be there in the way that was required of me as a husband, father, brother, son and friend during our journey with Lucy. This list encompasses the greatest lessons I learned through the trials of this year in the order that they were made apparent to me in my journey.

Acceptance is 90% of the battle

I spent over 12 years of my life circling around the concept that I was an alcoholic. I could never actually utter the words or allow people to say them without sticking my fingers in my ears and going ‘la-la-la-la-la-la’ and walking away. I was an ‘alcohol abuser’ an ‘alcohol super user’ an ‘idiot’ but I was never an ‘alcoholic’ until I walked into rehab after over a dozen years of struggling with alcohol.

The amazing experience that I had was that as soon as I accepted the alcoholic part of me, addressing and dealing with that shortcoming became incredibly simple. I was able to put all of my energy into understanding how to live my life as an alcoholic versus work mental games in my head trying to convince myself and everyone else why I wasn’t an alcoholic. When I was able to just accept and face the problem straight on, everything became about working on a solution rather than an excuse.

I have found acceptance in all aspects of this year as a major contributor to the reason my wife and I were able to handle many of the extreme situations that were presented to us with our daughters illness and passing. Time and time again, I found myself reciting the serenity prayer - ‘God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.’

Love yourself first before you can serve others

Self-love. Ugh. The idea of this used to cause me to throw up a little in my mouth, but now I feel it is the most significant part of my life behind my belief in God. I hated myself prior to going into rehab. Like, H. A. T. E. D, with a passion that I can’t even fully believe now as I write this out. It scares me to think about how unforgiving and just plain mean I was to myself about every single aspect of my life. Professionally… FAILURE! Husband… YOU SUCK! Father… HE HATES YOU! Friend… NO ONE LIKES YOU! Holy moly, it makes me sad just writing those out there remembering how things used to be.

I feel that the single greatest gift that I have ever given to myself came to me while sitting in the intake room of rehab. While waiting to be shown the ‘grounds’ I was sitting alone and I set two rules for myself for my time in rehab. One of them was that every single time I passed a mirror I had to look myself in the eyes, maintain eye contact and say out loud ‘I love you’. I just knew deep down that I had to work on accepting and loving myself, flaws and all, if I was going to address my addiction issue.

The practice felt awkward and clunky at first. I had troubles genuinely feeling it when I said the words, but over time I noticed a small smile creep onto my face when I did the practice. Then, as they days passed, I was able to notice how my eye and skin coloring was physically looking healthier and healed up. Then one day I noticed it, there was just a sense of belief in my face, tone and in my heart when I said the words. I finally believed what I was saying.

Once that happened, I started to realize how things opened up for me. I laughed when I made mistakes. I told myself, ‘it’s ok, screwing up doesn’t mean you’re a bad person’. I was forgiving of myself and I was treating myself how I treated others that I loved.

Loving myself allowed me to be there for others in ways I could have never done prior to my time in rehab and it also allowed me to bear loads that would have destroyed me in the past. It’s an incredible power that compounds as my ability to handle difficult scenarios grows. I am not perfect, but I love the person that I am and how hard I want to work to get better and be there for others.

A belief in something greater makes suffering bearable

Alyssa and my faith has been the bedrock of our ability to manage through 2023 and beyond with little to no anger or questioning 'why?'  This does not mean that this journey has been easy, but we're comforted by the fact that this has always been a part of a plan and that it is perfectly ok for us to not understand this plan right now.  My faith was restored when someone told me, 'I do not want a God that I can understand.' and really, why would you?  If your supernatural higher power is understandable enough to distill down to some simple explanation or equation, I wouldn't exactly call that being supernatural.

Even if we don't understand the meaning of Lucy's story right now, we're comforted by the fact that someday we may experience a moment that sheds light on all that we went through.  Or maybe we never will.  We were comforted by having a strong belief that Lucy's spirit guided us through the entire process. It is so clear to me that all of my life leading up to Lucy being in it was part of a plan and preparation for a time of significant suffering and pain. But I was ready because of how God set me up for this.

I always struggled with belief in God because when I looked at the institutions, and leadership, associated with faith it was easy to nit pick and find examples that contradicted their teachings. However, I decided that I was throwing the baby out with the bathwater and that I needed to distill things down to just myself, and worry only about me to start (thank you serenity prayer). Once I did that, I really realized there is no downside to belief, so why wouldn’t I give it a try? Once I did, things just felt right. No, I cannot recite bible verses for you, I still swear too much and I absolutely refuse to evangelize and recruit people to the ‘right side’. But belief works for me and I genuinely feel that I have been saved because of it. And it just makes sense.

Science still has so many unknowns

I truly wish everyone could have experienced this one along with us.  For Lucy, we physically relocated our entire lives to be at one of the most advanced and trusted hospital settings the world knows, at what is arguably the peak of human knowledge, and to have the medical team stumbling around and coming up with their best clinical way to say 'We don't know' is humbling.  That's not any slight on the care team that is overseeing Lucy, but her entire life was filled with mystery and it is very obvious that our human insight and discoveries through all of time cannot lend any answers to her situation.

While this could have been very frustrating Alyssa and I got used to it during Lucy’s life.  Every doctor visit we were finding out new information about Lucy that just didn't make sense to anyone who looked at her case.  The hope was that when she was born that we would get more clarity on her situation, but the opposite actually happened.  She became more of a mystery after her birth.  And why not?  That's just Lucy's way.  It's teaching us that there are bounds to human knowledge at this point, and it takes true wisdom to know, understand and accept those bounds.

Be satisfied with every goodbye 

We are finding that every time we left Lucy's bedside that we are having to leave accepting that we may not come back to her room and find her alive.  Therefore, we as well as all of our visitors have to be satisfied with every single goodbye that we said on departure.  Really, this should be a logical everyday mindset, as no one is guaranteed tomorrow or even the next minutes, but we really take health and safety for granted in our day and age.  I have noticed that hugs with family have felt much deeper since Lucy has taught this lesson to us. 

Respect how others deal with emotions

I have mentioned before that Alyssa and I have been extremely aligned and strong throughout this journey together.  Our relationship has been strengthened through these hardships, but that does not mean that we are in sync with each other in every respect, actually far from it.  Alyssa and I grieve differently.  We experience anger, frustration and joy at different times and in different manners.  Oftentimes Alyssa is feeling a certain emotion and I am no where feeling that, and I can sense an opportunity for annoyance to come in and wonder, 'why is she feeling this way now?  It doesn't make sense.'  Instead of having that judgement, it has been far more productive to sit and respect the emotions the other person has been feeling and allow them to process them. 

Never lose your sense of humor

Given the heaviness and seriousness of the situation, the amount of laughter we have shared over these past weeks has been quite impressive.  Some of the humor has been pretty dark, and some are just good old Dad jokes like telling the nurse we changed our diet to exclude glass shards after discussing how Alyssa had some gum bleeding problems during pregnancy.  It's really the small things that still make us smile and keep us going through the day. 

Purpose is measured in impact on those around you, not in time on this earth 

Lucy impacted so many lives in her short time on this earth.  Lucy's existence helped me save myself from the lowest place I have ever been in life.  I will never forget that impact she has had on me and to all those whose lives she has touched.  There's not much more to say on this one other than I hope to one day have a small sliver of an impact on others as Lucy has had.  What a meaningful life no matter how much earthly time we are able to spend with her.