I ask myself almost daily who I can trust. More often than not, I can count on one hand the people who fit in that club. It’s never who I want it to be. Who I need it to be. Who I anticipate it would be. 

Life has taught me trust is not a given. Most have no idea how to follow that one rule. They will lie, be defensive, and be confrontational when faced with the inability to be trustworthy. Even the most dedicated relationships fail on this basic level. We either hope and ignore the signs. Or fear and overreact. In every aspect of my life, trust seems to be the one elusive thing. I’ve questioned, is it me? Do I expect too much? Why can I give this so freely to others but fail to have it returned? 

The paradigm I have found myself in is this: I see more security in the people with whom I have a casual history. Is it because they’re the ones who have proven worthy of trust, or are they just the ones I do not expect to receive it from?

I have had to analyze the importance of this. Why is this the end all for me? It’s pretty simple. In all my relationships, trust is broken in the deepest of levels. Not being valued or appreciated. Worthy or essential. It’s easier to close your eyes than see the truth. Being the person I wish I had in so many others, I have had to create a new blueprint to follow. One that caters to the sad fact that not all value this as I do. 

To not constantly live in expectations that cannot be filled, I now resolve to trust by accepting they are doing their best. Trust in, hoping they will do better than the day before, forgiving when they fall short, and striving for understanding. 

In this, I can accept the only person I can completely trust is myself. 

Premonitions are not a mystery when you’re a mother. We do it all the time. That sinking feeling in the middle of the night only to go check and find your newborn had gotten himself stuck in the corner of the crib. Or tangled in the bumper pad that had somehow come untied.

Nothing changes even as they get older. Were the same mothers we were then and have the same fears. Are they safe? Loved? Happy? However, they have changed through the years we still see their chubby little faces. Reaching for us to pick them up. Peaceful, untouched souls who’s only need is us!

I have found that those roles somewhat reverse as they get older. I think I needed them more than they did me. That was true through addiction as well. As hard as they pulled away, I held on tighter. Not wanting to give in and face failure as a mom, I did whatever I could to stay in whatever world they were in. Not realizing I was their means to this drug induced life they embraced I took any opportunity to just be close to them.

Bandaging scrapped knees were training to the bandage’s I’d have to wrap around wounds from shooting up. Doctor’s appointments for ear infections were precludes to doctors confirming positive drug tests. The many nights of horrible stomach bugs they’d pass from one to the other were practice for the ongoing dope sick nights we spent on the bathroom floor.

Hospital stays for high fevers that stubbornly wouldn’t let go replaced with ER visits for overdoses. I could go on and on, but the worst part is the premonitions. The sleepless nights knowing, feeling, fearing the next phone call. Your worst nightmare coming true. Day in day out. Dreading they’d show up or fearing they wouldn’t.

Twenty plus years I lived this life. I was consumed with fear, guilt and hatred all mixed up in love for the people I use to watch sleeping soundly I now watch to be sure they are just sleeping. Worried they would turn over and smother in their cribs if I slipped off to sleep for a second, I would then worry they wouldn’t wake at all.

Was this all my fault? I used to think so. Why? was my constant question. Why me, us, them??? It is only now that I can see addiction does not discriminate. It can be anyone. Rich or poor doesn’t matter. Good or bad life doesn’t matter. Married or divorced parents doesn’t matter. No matter what you do doesn’t matter!!

I have learned now to stop wondering why to a question I will never get an answer to. To stop expecting any answer is good enough for all we’ve been through. To stop letting premonitions rule my every waking moment. The intuition we mothers all have I’ve had to learn to somewhat ignore because we will always know. It’s a curse and blessing all in one and will consume you if you let it.

What can we do then? I have no answers only to say you love them anyway. You hope anyway. You pray anyway. To do nothing is sometimes all we can do until they do something.

To hang we must let go.

New year new ME!

That’s our hope anyway. Often even with the best of intentions we continue to follow the same patterns. WHY??? Cause even in dysfunction we find normalcy, even in the chaos we find comfort. When what we’ve know for so long is gone we don’t know how to live.

As much as we want out of this hell we’ve endured and continue to battle, it is our lives. For many of us it’s a life we can’t pull away from because to do that means breaking away from our babies who are still fighting.

I know for me I couldn’t leave them in it. I couldn’t walk away no matter how hard, how destructive or how much it consumed me I just couldn’t walk away. For me that meant failure as a mom but in reality walking away is not a failure. You have not failed them. You have not failed yourself. You have finally realized that to save anyone means detaching.

So we look for reasons. The next relapse, I’m done! The next jail stint, I’m done! the next disrespect, I’m done!! Are we ever done?? No instead we misinterpret living our lives for forsaking theirs.

Wanting peace is not leaving them powerless. Wanting love is not leaving them alone. Wanting ourselves is not rejecting them. It’s choosing how we respect their choices to live while allowing ourselves to have the same choice.

For 2023 I pray each and every one of us who has faced and still facing this beast that is Addiction chooses to allow love over fear. Respect over insolence. Peace over chaos.

To hang on we must let go!

Down the rabbit hole, I go. That’s how it feels. One day completely happy, looking forward to a new life. One that I thought was my reward for all the hard work I had done to improve all the things I saw in myself I didn’t like.

Became self-sufficient. Depended on no one. Took care of myself in every way a woman should learn how to. It became my monthra and I hit every goal! Went to Alanon to improve where I was failing my sons in their addictions. Failing myself!

To separate me from their addictions was the hardest for me to learn but I did it and can see my mistakes. In defeat is where we learn the toughest lessons but the ones we truly learn.

I was ready for something more! The fairy tale I so desperately craved. Deserved in fact but there were signs. I saw the same red flags but I choose to ignore them because I could understand this. I could help. Offer my 20+ years of experience. Right? Wrong! That’s not how it works and I soon found out.

We tend to gravitate to what we know. Familiar even if it looks completely different. You can Imagine my confusion with how I’m feeling now. Being sideswiped with regret and feelings of failure.

I was glimpsing a stress-free life. at least not with the kind of stress that I had been under for the last 20 years. A life not without challenges. I expected that. Not without some stress that wouldn’t be life. None the less I anticipated bliss even among the challenges I could see coming.

Then out of the blue, this new life started looking different. Consuming, out of control, the chaos that started resembling that same doomsday stress I for years fought. Every effort to keep afloat has failed. I can feel myself drowning under every wave. Under every new day!!

Still, I try to ignore the mounting pressure just beneath. Little by little it fills me. Taking every breath, stealing every happy moment. As if an out-of-body experience I can see myself in the force of its grip, flailing under the strength of its crushing hold. Surprised to find me here is an understatement!!

Life has a way of slapping you across your face. Stunning you into submission because you couldn’t or wouldn’t listen.

So here it is. Did I make a mistake? Did I excuse too many signs? Did I excuse the clues and hints and rationalize it into paranoia? I don’t know. That’s the hard part. Heart says one thing, everything else says something else.

Maybe I haven’t learned as much as I thought. Understood or accepted my value as much as I have others. Stop and listen to that inner voice that often talks but is never heard.

So now what? Keep going? Or for once in my life do what I claim I have learned. Give me the one gift I have withheld!

Permit me to say NO!

Here is where I am. The Rabbit hole! Dark, terrifying void where I’m existing but not living. Will I listen to that little girl screaming or ignore her cries?

Sometimes even with us to hang on we must let go!

Life sure has a way of turning you upside down. You can never get too complacent. You’re constantly assured that no matter what is going on, as the world turns, so will you. 

My life has changed drastically. New challenges and obstacles have me spinning. Trying to find my balance in this situation is testing my controlling spirit. Forever my difficulty is shifting my perspective to gain insight within walls that unceasingly close in on me. Fear of change grips me like an undertow in the ocean pulling me under, only letting me go long enough to get a quick breath, then back to the cold, blackness of each surge. 

Why can’t we accept change as something beautiful? An inevitable part of life that gives us a chance to evolve. Re-do mistakes. Learn new strategies and coping mechanisms. Why is that so elusive for me? 

Even in the dysfunctional, I am more functional. I find more peace. It’s familiar and safe. I know the road map and can find my way around any obstacle in my path. 

So why do I wake up in a cold sweat and feel the weight holding me down? Panic seizing me like vice grips. Sweat pouring down my forehead, each breath following the next faster and harder. Hands numb, fingers tingling. I want to run, but I can’t feel my legs! I want to scream, but I have no voice. I’ve lost myself in the shadows of my mind, my body reacting to the constant-ness of my circumstance. 

If the chaos is so comfortable, then why react to the act? I guess that’s what I still need to figure out. In the journey is where we find the lesson that will lead us to the reason. That is what I keep telling myself.

To hang on we must let go. 

Like winds changing direction our life has taken an unexpected turn. On May 4 my son suffered cardiac arrest and is now left with Hypoxic Brain Injury.

The challenges with this are not unlike the years we have fight for his sobriety. Our lives are now forever affected by what is and hopes of what could have been.

Daily we struggle with our new normal and achieving a balance in gratefulness of him still being with us and the constant guilt of did we do enough to prevent this.

Now we are left with little change in the addicted mind but now physically unable to fulfill that desire, I guess maybe that’s the mercy God has shown us.

I just wonder could we have fought harder? Did we agree to the never-ending wave of addiction. Detracting in a sea of dependence foundering just above the surf. Could we have thrown a life raft out?

He is just on the outside of his own mind and body battling to regain some kind of existence as we try to hold onto some sort of normalcy. As foreign as life is to us now it is being rewritten as we move through and where that wind of change leads us is yet to be realized but none the less anticipation of where we will land is hopeful.

The thought of being a mom was all you ever wanted and was finally coming true. Then one day motherhood became a daily battle waging war in the innermost instincts of your heart and mind.

Sleepless nights, constant feedings, diapers, spit up. Uncontrollable crying, unsure of your abilities as a mom. You begin to wonder where is the rewarding experience everyone talked about? Why can I not see the beauty In what we created???

Then one day you walk into the nursery and he smiles and reaches for you and as unexpectedly as everything up till this point was you smiled back and felt the bond you had been nurturing. Suddenly you saw the beauty and could feel the love that was there the whole time only hiding under a disguise of fear.

Fast forward to now. You cringe at the very sight of him. Every brash word, every verbal and physical attack you look for the child you once knew. With every catastrophe and the constant chaos that ensues your very core shakes and pleads with God, WHY????

Then one day God answers.

My Dear Carol

I gave you a son. I didn’t promise it would be easy. I never said you would not hurt . I’ve tried to pull you back and you pushed your way through. I gave him chances for great testimonies but you hide every trial. I brewed storms onto his path but you sheltered him with your umbrella. I steered him into consequences but you took those for yourself.

I’ve tried over and over to show him my face but you shield his eyes. I’ve cried out to him but you covered his ears. With every outstretched of my hand you pulled him closer so no one else could touch him. With every attempt I’ve made to show him my love your love was in the way.

My Dear Carol….

One day he will reach for you and you both will smile and the bond that has always been there will shine through out from under the disguise of fear and the love with all its beauty will once again as unexpectedly as everything has been up to this point will be there and you will see the beauty of which I created.

To hang on we must let go….

• 

Sometimes changes come fast. Sometimes slow. Sometimes its welcomed and sometimes it’s dreaded. Whatever the circumstance it’s almost always an adjustment.

For me it’s never an easy one. The winds Of change never blow towards me but against me. Often my way of approach is to hibernate through the change of seasons only to reappear once the frost is gone. Pretend my world is the only world and the fearsome outside disappears until I’m ready to re-emerge

The only problem is when dealing with an addiction or a loved one with addiction their world permeates yours. Recently I have had the misfortune of dealing with an addiction not by one of my own but someone else closely related to my life.

My patience has been tested far beyond what I’ve had to have with my own loved ones. Seeing the complete devastation one human being can cause to the most innocent of victims. Damaging the innermost makeup of one’s personality and identity is disturbing. I’ve had to watch children deal with abandonment. The selfish acts of putting drugs before their well-being. Simple things like food, clean clothes, and a warm bed every night are a treat instead of a staple of life. Being taught values and morals are replaced with disrespect and withdrawal. These children are merely surviving instead of living. Being allowed to be adults instead of having the right to be kids. It’s a sad reality and one I have had to sit back and watch for months now has led me to the conclusion that our addicts are not the most significant casualty. It is the innocent ones that are thrown aside to wade through the trash they’ve left behind.

How selfish and self serving you became. Once upon a time you were an innocent babe. Happily ignorant to the madness of this world. your gift to yours???? Sharing your knowledge and dysfunction. Making sure your reality becomes theirs. Offering the only thing you can. Fear Insecurity, loneliness. Teaching the only thing you know. Disrespect, entitlement and deception. Showing them the person you have become. Self centered, unreliable and uncaring.

Congratulations you have passed on the best of your qualities to ensure that yours are just as un-equipped to handle life as you are.

As hard as we will try to stop the cycle you have started I find myself wanting to hibernate once more. Turn my head to the wall and sleep till the sun comes up again.

Then again maybe it’s time someone shine a light on the darkness you left them in!!!

TO HANG ON WE MUST LET GO…..

Continue reading “12/3/2020” →

It constricted so fast. You could see the decent. 

Like a worm poking its head out from under a rock, then quickly back in only exposing the opening of a tiny hole footprinted in the dirt, small dark engulfing he was in his world, and me in mine. 

How easy it was for him to go there. How welcoming and safe it felt. Every emotion was validated. Every need is met. In those moments, he was ok. It was once he ventured out, that the climax of what he had done touched him. 

Staring him, the face it was sheer terror. Bone thin. Sunken eyes. Gray color. He was in the grasp of addiction, and I could not save him. I couldn’t compete with what heroin could offer. I was no match for the absolute acceptance it could give. And yet I fought and would fight relentlessly.

Giving up was never an option except to give up myself. 

But it never worked out that way. I gave up, but he never gave back. He took and took until I was as lost in my world as he was his. Only his world was heroin accepted heaven, and mine was a self-sabotaging hell.

The present-day escaped him, but I lived every moment. I was hostage to this new world, and I didn’t know it then, but it would be decades before I knew the extent of this mind-altering existence we were both pulled in.

In one way, he was lucky he could stay warm and safe in the arms of Mister H. I was left outside the window looking in, and I was fully aware and could feel every stab of his sword. 

His grip tightening I could feel I’m suffocating. Under the weight of his hold!! 

Just when you think you have graduated. You have learned what to do and what not do. You worked the program. Walked through the steps and felt so secure and confident that you got this! My child’s addiction will no longer rule my world..

Then you wake up to a new war-waging. Maybe its identical to before. Perhaps this time it has a different face but quickly you recognize the reflection in the mirror is addiction. Your shocked at how easy it was to fall for the same tricks. Same lies and manipulation. Surprised that It recognizes you. Remembers your weaknesses and can play on your thoughts. It knows you as well as it knows your addict. You are well acquainted with this monster.

To add a new dimension to this I am now witnessing the destruction to my significant others life as he battles the same demon in his own child. As a couple dealing with addiction on both sides of the coin I can’t help but wonder is our plans for a future, our lives the next casualty? Will we be victim to its endless barrage of chaos and destruction.

I so much want to slap addiction in the face and say not this time…. Not this time, but let’s be real. We will go all in and only after realizing you have fallen down that same rabbit hole will you reach for help. Just once I wish I could jump over the deep dark crevice of co-dependency without being swallowed by the anguish of enabling.

Just once I would like to come face to face with denial and see reality. Just once I’d like to live my dreams and escape their nightmares. Be proud of instead of disappointed in. Somebody I can look at and see dignity instead of defeat.

So back to Alanon where mistakes mark the chance to succeed. Failures are only lessons being learned and successes even small ones, are celebrated. Until then….

I DIDNT CAUSE IT

I CANNOT CONTROL IT

AND I CANT CURE IT

I loved you before I knew you. Just the thought of you made me weep. Feeling you move made me smile. Seeing you grow filled me with excitement. Every little accomplishment made me proud. This was a love like no other and no other would ever compare.

So how is it now that most days you struggle to see my love? You stopped trying to make me proud. You stopped growing in mind and body. You no longer reach for the stars.

Your content in this altered reality. Escaping any tangible moments. Avoiding any real feelings. Your elusive and disappearing right in front of me as I am to you.

I miss your smile. Your genuine laughter. I miss your enthusiasm for life. Every little era you walked through you finished in a sprint.

I miss what we would have had now. What we won’t have later. So much has been affected and will be because of one bad decision. One that can’t be erased. Won’t ever be forgotten. Will loom as a constant reminder of what has been taken and left with.

I wonder if you ever miss me? Miss seeing my smile when I look at you. My laughter when you do something funny. My tears when you make me proud. The one who had enthusiasm for your life. The one who cheered you onto every victory. The one I was and would have been now.

I miss us! The happy, fun-loving mother and son. Laughter leaping from one to the other. Contentment and joy filling our hearts. Anticipation for tomorrow and what that will bring.

I miss our lives! I miss you! I miss me!!!

I was so naive to think the attitudes that seem to come with addiction was only due to active addiction. I had no idea that I would be dealing with it into sobriety. How is it that the person who only seemed to have it once addiction took hold now seems to have it as a permanent attribute to their personality? Which brings me to wonder is it the chicken or the egg?

Was this complete disrespect for people, family, values, basic decency there before? OR is this a direct result of the mind altering effects addiction can have on the brain?

So many years Ive taken the abuse of their disease. Year by year manifesting into a stranger I once coddled now I can barely hug. So many I love you’s are now lost when contempt and anger prevents them from hearing my cries. Eyes blurred in a chemical existence can no longer see my hope and a hardened heart can no longer feel my faith.

The urge to find some semblance of my child in this addiction created monster has left me completely defeated and tired. Ready to retreat and tap out. I am facing little hope of ever having my children back as they once were. Therefore me myself ever being the same mom I once was.

Liking them is not a prerequisite to loving when you deal with an addict. More often than not I look at them and wonder will I ever be able to accept who they are now. Who they’ve become and what they turned me into.

As a mom thank God loving them never stops. Never diminishes. It maybe the only thing that keeps me connected to that baby I once carried deep inside me. That can never be taken away.

Everyday grieving the promise of what could be. The anticipation of what will be. The excitement of possibilities is lost but never forgotten.

With every war they wage on every memory I have of simpler, happy times. I will remember who they were. I pray the disease of addiction leaves some small shred of what I created that maybe can survive not only addiction but also sobriety. That we all can find who we were before the disease of attitudes engulfed us all.

Haven’t been able to write for a few months. With everything going on in the world and my own displacement I’ve been very preoccupied and found myself struggling to put pen to paper.

The world we are living in I barely recognize anymore and on top of the new stresses of everyday life we the parents of addicts have the old pressures still looming.

Wear a mask. Worry about our children having clothes. Wash our hands. Worry they have had a shower in the last month. Careful to not get virus. Worry they have everything but the virus.

It’s constant state of panic for me these days. Which way do I turn? All I wanna do is run. Run as far away as I can. Would I be able to? Could I manage to not have to be involved in every catastrophe? Should I give myself permission to let go? Could others actually appreciate me for what I do and give.

And the answer to all that is a big resounding NO!

In a world of self-absorbed entitled people. Human respect and decency have all but vanished. To try and survive the madness means we become invisible. Silent to the chaos. Hiding in the shadows hoping we won’t be noticed because then and only then are we needed.

I must apologize for the tone in which this is being written but i am only human. Only a mom and only able to put up with so much before i too find myself in the bleak part of my mind when I can not handle the dark skies of reality.

Maybe that is what keeps me sane in the insanity of addiction!

Sometimes I think being a grandma is so much more rewarding than being a mom. After all, you get all the goodness without all the bad. You can love this little person with no worries or fears. Its the purest and most fulfilling joy I’ve ever experienced. It’s a little reminder of what once was and excitement of what could be.
Sometimes when I look at my grandkids, watching them enjoy life. Experiencing all the wonders of being a child, I can’t help but think what happened to this in us as we get older?
When did ignorance FOOL the innocence?
We seize the more prominent, more complicated aspects of life and forget to hold onto simple things.
Instead of toes and skinned knees in fresh-cut grass were fighting wars in video games in dark isolating rooms.
Willingly we replace acceptability for entitlement.
Rather than visit a family member, we send an impersonal text to substitute for our company.
Freely we grab an iPad instead of a conversation.
Then when things don’t turn out the way we intend, we deliberately avoid rather than engage.
I want to get the simplicity back. I want integrity and honesty to prevail over deception and iniquity.
In my family, as addiction has ravaged our homes, we have managed to maintain what childhood looked like for us. We gravitate to each other for reassurance; not all is lost and hold onto our newest generation as to shield them from the horrid parts of the world we’ve seen.
In one way, we have now chosen to be ignorant to protect innocence. To keep them resistant to what we’ve seen and let them just be kids. Indifferent to the chaos around them, we play with bubbles and pick flowers. We often hug and laugh with ease.
We escape in a story or hold close our favorite songs. We scream with enthusiasm slipping down the slide and shriek with joy when we figure out how to swing.
Touch the stars and moon at night while we huddle to a roaring bonfire.

This is the childhood my grandbabies are having not much different than what mine had with one exception. We now also know the evil in this world. We know how quickly it can take over. Hopefully, we can let them fall with little fear they won’t stand back up. So until then, we hold them tight, but know to hang on, we may one day have to let go.

Finally, we get some sun. Funny how a few dark days make you appreciate the sun again. Just having the warmth and brightness wash over my face feels like a renewing. I can sit and soak that in forever, escaping into the luster and shine of the moment.
Then as quickly as it appears, clouds gather, and the glow I was enjoying has hidden behind a new storm. Tornado season for us here in Texas terrifies me, and with a few warm days lately, it reminds me it’s almost upon us. One moment is calm and peaceful, and the next turbulent and chaotic.
That is how my life with addict kids has been. A few breaks in the clouds to remind me that just because you can’t see the sun doesn’t mean it isn’t there.
If I could remember as we’re going through the storms of addiction, that behind all that darkness, there is brilliance so great it will pierce through. That does not mean it won’t test my strength. Frighten me. Have me running for cover. I may even give up on the uncertainty of when or if it will pass.
But if I can keep from getting sucked into the turmoil, let my light beam like a lighthouse to wayward vessels. Thus will illuminate and guide them home.
I am in the eye of the storm now. I can feel the winds changing. The atmosphere is growing. The distance is dark and scary, but here in the middle, the sunshine baths me in hope.
I believe we can withstand whatever mother nature throws at us.
Remaining calm and welcoming the waves of change is an opportunity for lessons learned: a new day and fresh starts.

Entering 2020, I’ve been telling myself as I do every new year that this will be the year I put me first. Not sacrificing my son to achieve this but making a conscious decision to help us both by allowing my focus and priority to be on me.
How hard this is to do!!! Barely a week in and we have already had some challenges, and I find myself falling into familiar patterns. Without even thinking, my first instinct is once again to jump in and fix, proof positive to me. I cannot trust myself.
Guilty until proven innocent doesn’t seem to apply to addicts, but does that mean allowing others to continue to judge his mistakes? More often than not, instead of letting the pieces fall, I am caught between defending his right to be human and have made mistakes or the continued examination of past failures. While I try to be positive that he will fly, can he when he is continually held down by the weight of others’ judgment?
After all, there is no recovery without relapse.
Are we not all allowed to have a fresh start?  A do-over? Why do we have to bring others down to lift ourselves up, and does that somehow reflect less on the errors in life we have made?
It seems to me that support is needed more than exposing. That letting someone recognize the flaws in their actions would be more beneficial than displaying imperfections.
Even though I think it is common after so many times of watching the shoe fall, you expect it to do the very same thing we must push ourselves to refrain from pointing out or assuming this most obvious conclusion.
As I’ve said so many times as I write my struggles with my addicts, I will try! If I was perfect, my learning completed. I could say I will, but as a mom, we are only human as our addicts are, and we are not without missteps.

For 2020 I will try to give my addict and me the right to fail to succeed.

 

 

The impact that happens to parents of addicts is just as devastating as the addiction itself. When my boys first started in drugs, I was a happy, glass half full kind of person. I was so fortunate to be a mom. That’s all I ever wanted to be. They were beautiful boys. Full of promise and life. Each having unique qualities, Each one with so many beautiful gifts to give the world. I had no doubts they would be successful.  I knew this time would fly by, so we cherished each and every moment. Every year a little older, I was happy at the prospects of what new opportunities would be presented to them, but I would grieve for the year past.

They flourished in all aspects of their lives. Like all boys, they were adventurous and full of energy. Smart and gifted in so many ways,  They made friends easy were well-liked and all in all happy, well-adjusted kids. Trailing after each other, they experienced and learned the support brothers have for each other, and I loved seeing the comfort they would give to one another.
To say I was content with my life is an understatement. I filled my days with school parties, field trips, room mom, baking, and organizing fundraisers. At home, we had chores, homework, and dinners every night together. Sundays were “Family Day” we spent reconnecting from a long week.
I’m not so sure they enjoyed this as much as me, but I knew how important it was to try to keep that family bond strong.  I had hoped one day they would look back on Family Day and cherish the memories of furniture pushed back blankets and pillows from wall to wall watching favorite movies, eating popcorn. Yardwork done together. Many sprinklers and leaf battles went on. Forts and club- houses built — projects in the garage. Concerts in our living room as music blasted throughout the house.
Thank God we have our memories because, in just a few short years, everything would change.
Life completely shifted, and the happy, carefree family we once were died. When our first son got into drugs, we were hopeful we could get this fixed. When the second ensued, we were shocked, and when our third quickly followed, we were terrified.
How could this happen? All three!!! At this point, I began wondering what had we done wrong. What could have changed our beautiful boys into the monsters they would become. I could not bear what they were going through and true to myself I took on their addictions as if they were my own. I emersed myself in literature. I  educated myself on addiction. I met with counselors. I went to parent meetings at rehabs. I supported 90 meetings in 90 days. Sponsors. Curfews. I watched who they associated with — all the dos and donts. I was text- book.
Yet nothing worked. Year after year, rehab after rehab. Jails, cops, raids. One drug led to another — each harsher and more consuming. What was left of our family was fear, guilt, anger, and most days, I felt I was fighting alone.
Eventually, we broke. Our family tree was damaged like a storm raged through and uprooted our life.
Each of us destroyed in different ways. Drugs corrupted every aspect of our lives. I never gave up trying to save my boys, which is why I never saw the toll it was taking on me.
I was a shell of who I once was. Dark and depressed. Anxiety ruled my emotions. Numbness and hate for life had taken over my once happy existence. I could feel nothing, wanted nothing, hoped for nothing. Waiting to die physically because emotionally, I was already dead.
Finally, after years of giving myself to the cause of saving my sons, two of them recovered. No thanks to my attempts, they did it on their own. I did not know all I as doing was the exact opposite of achieving sobriety.
Not a moment could I share thanks or give hope because, by this time, I was so far gone any strength I had left went to my youngest son who was still in it. I could not fight for myself. I did not see myself separate from him. We were one entity battling for his soul; I poured what was left of my life over to him. I became a sober version of his addiction. I was consumed and haunted. Withdrawing from control and jonesing to fix.
There wasn’t much difference between him and me at this point. We were losing the battle, and I didn’t care if it killed me if I could save him. Days were dark, and to just make it to bedtime was my only goal. Waking each morning sent fear through me as I did not know what catastrophe would be waiting. Phone calls sent me into a panic the moment I would hear the ring. Knocks on the door sent me scrambling to the bathroom to hide. Panis attacks were the norm. PTSD was my new best friend.
My life could not get any worse. I begged and pleaded with God to help me over and over again. I never felt more alone. God had left me in this hell, and I would never get out. If only God would save my baby, I would gladly give up. Trade me for him.
What I didn’t realize then and only now 16 years later was that God never abandoned me. I was never alone. It was strength being built. Torn down to rise back up. God would show me more in those 16 years about myself than I ever knew. Things that I never realized were haunting me served me in fueling my son’s addictions. I had to deal with my ghosts to stop aiding in their nightmares. Relinquishing my rights to dictate their lives released me to focus on myself and, therefore, be the only thing I could be for them, MOM.
Handing over my hat as savior, judge, and the jury gave me my objective back and helped me realize if I stand in to save them, I am blocking the only one that can.
Id like to say we are beyond all this now, and all are living a happy life without the effects of addiction, but as with most trials, we face its one day at a time. Our family bond has lived through this, and we have gained a strength most families are not able to hang onto.
Would we be this close had it not been for addiction? Would we know and have the kind of empathy you can only acquire from this kind of ordeal? I don’t know. I’m scared to think that maybe without addiction, we would have gone on with our lives separate from the others. Not realizing how precious this life can be. How quickly you can lose it and who is important enough to share it with. Maybe I’m still not getting it or maybe my glass is just finally half full again!!

I want to go back. Go back to the moments that clearly defined who and what they would be. Lately, I have had a lot of time to reflect on where and why did all this happen to our family. Most of the time, after exhausting all reasoning, I fall on the comfortable excuse “its the world we live in”  that’s not ok with me anymore. I want to understand.
How can beautiful people who have the potential to be whatever they want, fall into such a scary dark place where the only purpose they hold dear is getting the next fix?
I want to understand what I didn’t do instead of what could I have done differently. To try to rewrite the past does not change the present. How did it all domino’s into this game of life or death?
A defect in personality. A problem with the character,  parenting mistakes?
Anyone that has been in addiction, whether directly or indirectly search for that answer every day as they fight inside or side by side someone they love.
When I first started trying to understand what my sons much be going through. The struggle and battle daily to live life.  I would see reasons everywhere — explanations for the wrongs and whys. I was too harsh on them. Wasn’t hard enough. I loved too much didn’t love deep enough. Understood, didn’t understand. It’s an endless list, and I can always find reasons, but where are the answers???
As I’m about to face yet another challenge, I have to concede I am no closer to knowing the answers. I have realized this is deeper than just them. I do know there is more than one answer. I accept the fight may always be a part of their lives, and the struggle will translate into mine.
Sixteen years later, I still don’t understand, but I walk in the strength they have to fight this every day. One day I hope we all understand. With compassion and patience to hang on, we must let go…

Recently God reminded me of an incident a few years ago when I was sure I would never be able to help my son in the right ways. I was at a place where I hated who I had become in his addiction. I was starting to see my role and was mentally and physically exhausted, but just when I thought I could not go on, God presented an event that showed me how far I had indeed come.

One of the many times I was visiting my son in jail, I happened to notice a gentleman sitting in the visitation area. I knew he was new. You get used to seeing the same people every week, and I know I had not seen him before. I overheard him talking to someone about his daughter, who was in for the first time for a drug charge. As I listened, I was shocked his concern was not for his daughter; it was for his wife.
She couldn’t pull herself away from the daughter’s addiction.  She felt responsible for everything they were going through and was obsessed with how to fix their daughter. He was angry and confused. I felt so bad for him but could understand where his wife was because I too was right there.
Several minutes went by, and he just vented all his frustrations. It was therapeutic for him;  I never commented. I felt like I didn’t have anything to offer since I was also such an enabler myself he needed a nonbiased ear to listen. He was clearly at his wit’s end with this situation he found their family in.
Finally, his wife walked out. She had been crying, and you could tell she hadn’t slept in days. I could feel her pain and wanted to reach out to her, but as she reached her husband, she just collapsed in his arms. I could see how much this was taking out of her. You don’t have to know someone to see the same agony they suffer. It’s unmistakable,  I know that desperation all to well and felt like his comfort was what she needed at that time, so I sat silent.
After my visit, of course, they were gone. But I wondered about her.
As I walked out, my heart was still with her, and I regretted not saying something, anything to her that may have helped her anguish.
As I rounded the corner, I was surprised to see her and her husband sitting outside on the curb of the jail. She was still upset and crying. He was trying so hard to comfort her, but she was inconsolable.
As I walked by, I was stopped. I had such a strong urge to talk to her. I didn’t know what I was going to say or why, but I knew God was guiding me.
So from God to her, one mom to another, I offered some understanding that only moms can give to each other. She looked relieved and didn’t take a lot for her to start telling me their whole journey. Typical drug addiction began with one thing, lead into another. Now facing charges doesn’t care or see the effect this is having on her family, and mom feels responsible. I saw myself in this sweet desperate lady. So overcome with grief and despair. Her life was not hers anymore, and she was mourning the happy family she once had.
As she talked and I listened, she began to calm down. When she finished, she begged me to tell her how to fix her daughter. What had I done to help my son?  I laughed at the fact that I was there visiting my son also so clearly nothing I had done had helped.
But then she said, “you seem happy. I want to be where you are.”

WOW! I seemed together to her. I Looked happy??? I started telling her our story all I had done and been through with not just one but all three of my sons. She nodded in agreement, and we laughed and cried with all the wrong ways I had tried to save our family. She understood my obsession with my boy’s addictions and realized for the first time; she too, was addicted to her daughter’s addiction. She was freed in her loneliness because like I had seen earlier, she too could see herself in me.
I left my new friend with the butterfly story. A butterfly has to struggle to get out of the cocoon. It’s in that struggle that gives them the ability to fly. Without it, they would die. Our kids are the same its in the conflict that they learn to live, and we need to let them learn the struggle so we can live.
She hugged me and cried, and we said goodbye. As she started to pull away, she suddenly stopped her car and jumped out running to my vehicle; she handed me a coin with an angel on it. She said she knew God sent me to her, I was her Angel and that she was renewed that they would be ok. As she got back in her car, I just sat there suddenly I knew it was her that God had given to me.  I was doubting my progress, questioning my faith, and was losing my hope. Meeting her and sharing our stories reminded me how far I had come. I had made headway, and God was still leading me.
I saw that nice lady a couple more times after that and we were able to lift each other up, share struggles and victories. Although I doubt she ever realized what she did for me, It was a defining moment in my recovery.  I may have given her the hope that there can be happiness in addiction, but she showed me I never lost mine and God showed us both we were not alone.

After 16 years of addiction between all three of my boys, I have many times been in so much despair i found myself giving up hope. I’ve cried, begged, and pleaded to God to save my boys. I’ve questioned, negotiated, tried to make deals. Nothing has worked and has only left me worse than them at times. Maybe the answer was always right there.  God began working on me in small steps. Showing me examples and gently putting people in my life that could testify to the only way i could help my sons was to help myself.
I don’t even know how we got so entangled that I became as sick as them. I cannot recollect where and when our lives became their addictions, but I do know when I knew I was part of the problem. That was devastating and took time to accept, but in the face of this disease taking any of them with it, I had to face some harsh realizations.
Instead of asking God to save them, I started asking for strength and guidance; I asked God to take over with them and to help me have patience while he worked in our lives.
As anyone that has ever been in this situation knows stepping back and handing over control is part of our addiction and just as hard to put down as it is for them and drugs.  Our intuition and innate instinct are to fix. It comes as natural as breathing, and with me, I would dare say for me it had developed into a need. To stop me would be easier to cut off my hands then ask me to drop everything I considered my role as a mom.
The first realizations didn’t come quick like I said this had been 16years, and just now I am finally at a place where I can look in the mirror and reflect on my part in this. Forgiving myself for not being stronger is much harder for me. Parenting isn’t always ensuring they are happy. Sometimes it’s letting them be sad. Letting them be angry.  If they’re never unhappy, never have to experience disappointment, they will never learn what true happiness is. They won’t recognize contentment.
I as a parent thought to be a good mom meant all the good stuff. I never got the memo that being a good mom also involved giving them the gift of self-reliance and that they would only get through me letting go. How could I expect them to know something I left untaught? How would they learn to handle the bad while only being allowed to experience the good?
These are things I have had to come to terms with. I had to give up hope and pick up faith. I had to be at my bottom for God to show me they’re recovery.
I am still so far from where I need to be, but I know now I am farther than I’ve been. Daily I am shown my mistakes. If I ignore them I can smile and go on but my son’s won’t. If I accept them I will be sad (for a time)  but they will go on. Being the parent of an addict means accepting the things we can do to help them is most likely allowing them to help thmselves.

To hang on we must let go…