Dear Mom,
You are weak. Your world is not as bright as it once was. Optimism is no longer your armor. You faced the unimaginable and are still standing, but the wounds you carry are profound. Now expected to move on as if…. As if life is forgiving. As if love is enough, but you know it’s not. You are numb. Unable to feel for feeling too much for too long. Emotionally you are dead, but any little trigger can awaken your panic. Crushing under the weight of your expectations, you are slow to rise. Weary of standing. Scared to move that you will be exposed and forced to endure yet another crisis because just as they are to their disease, you are their prey.

You are sad. You’ve seen the face of death in what was once life. You watched a familiar face ravaged by the addiction. You’ve weathered each attack, but fear another will make you fall. Your strength and determination, once your steady footing is now your crutch.

You are angry. Forced to live in a system where it fails the one you most want to save. You’ve become bitter and resentful of the authority that should be safe. Leary of even the most genuine concern, you keep everyone at arms distance. No one is dependable or worthy of your trust. Yet you long for anyone that can break through the wall you’ve built

You are alone, yet surrounded by many. You feel unloved and misunderstood. Judged for being sympathetic. Pitied for being compassionate.  So scared of the darkness of being alone, yet you crave the solitude.

Oh, mom, in as much as you have fought this battle is not yours. The casualties of loving an addict reach far. Damage is just as extensive to you as your loved one.  To have any chance of recovery for either to hang on you must let go.