Inside Rock Bottom

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…

16-years ago when my kid’s drug addictions started the focus on any other relationship fell by the wayside. Luckily my husband and I had a strong marriage and went into this problem together. We each had strengths in different areas. I was the one who wanted to take on as much as I could for them, more understanding of the disease aspect of it. My husband was the one to tough love, make them accountable. Both had a purpose and purposely correct at different times. To no fault of my son’s addictions that marriage failed yet to this day, we still parent together much in the same way as we did then. I have had to learn tough love. let them carry their responsibility he has at times had to be more flexible, softer in his approach. Regardless we have learned how to support each other’s roles and respect the difference. We were then and continue to remain favored in this unconditional support we can have with one another.
Fast forward to today and trying to pave the way for a new relationship. I find myself on the other side of the coin. I am the tough love, less adaptable in what I will tolerate. My soon to be husband is where I was then — still trying to love and support with little boundaries.
This has provided me a unique standpoint — another opportunity to learn.  As I watch, I recall where I was. How far I’ve come and how frustrating this must have been for my loved ones watching my struggle. Now I’m the one standing back, watching the person I love and respect being treated with less than that.
I’m learning to abstain from controlling; I told you so’s and unsolicited advice.  No matter how true the words they cut deep. — And each of us has to accept these terms in our own time.
Observing from this angle reassures me how far I have come, but how much improvement is still needed. It gives me empathy for all those who stood against me out of love. Giving me loyalty most of the time did not mean agreeing with me.  I can now appreciate the fight they had.

Trying to build a foundation for marriage with someone else choices interfering and often hindering yours is not easy.
I see this as my final step in putting my life, my choices first. Not sacrificing my child or expecting him to do that it does put in perspective where our goals and focus should be.
As hard as I have fought for my son, I have to fight for me and my life, and that continues to be a puzzle I’m working every day.
I am so thankful for the people that have entered my life or have been there throughout the whole battle. Each has taught me lessons. Valuable teachings I couldn’t show myself.
For my soon to be the husband as we walk, sometimes drown in the waves of uncertainty, of it all….I hope that I am providing the same for you.

C. and JB. and so many more Thank you for the continued support And for not letting me walk alone.

I got to see my son again. Saw his eyes bright and full of hope. Watched him smile with a heart full of love. Listened to him speak with faith and awareness. Observed him take responsibility and recount new insights. Laughed with ease and cherished each moment
I no longer saw hate. Fear was missing. Anger resolved. Today after months of only seeing a shell of what was, he came walking in with purpose. A renewed sense of belonging.
As he sat there recounting to us what his days are like now he did it with such enthusiasm I couldn’t help but be envious. He, although confined, is free. Not being consumed by addition or the lasting effects he glowed with excitement over the possibility of a new start. One not marked with how to score drugs to feel ok. To not have to hustle, manipulate, or lie just to get through the day is relief he is embracing.
I walked away with bittersweet emotions. That is what addiction does to the family. Even in the most sincere moments, you are ever so cautious. Optimistically-overjoyed over the vast improvement and the return of your baby. Still, fear sits with you side by side.
I want so badly for this nightmare to be over and yet I know to do that means him leaving the security (yes jail to parents of addicts is safety) that is being provided to us — the reprieve from worry. Peace of mind returns, heavy burdens lifted to see that smile even in jail it’s worth it.
Most of that visit, I would catch myself trying to memorize every minute, hang onto his laughter, and cling to his every word. It’s overwhelming and exhilarating at the same time.
There’s no judgment, no need to search for apologies or evidence of regret it’s just about reconnecting with your child. Reestablishing the bond that addiction tries so desperately to destroy.
Finally, I could breathe!
Hugging him goodbye, I prayed for strength not to let the tears I could feel welling up slip out. I watched him walk away and with one more wave, and I love you, and I was free to welcome each emotion — one after the other.
I was crying for the months of anguish and the last 60 minutes of promise. Feeling everything, I keep buried. I  realized this is a victory for me as much as him. He deserves this level of support, and I deserve to be a mom.
As hopeful as i am, I find myself a little angry over the circumstances that have to be for me to be able to get to have this time with him. Why does it take incarceration to get to see my son again? To see all the beautiful qualities I knew were not gone just hidden behind the devil. I feel cheated this is the tradeoff, but I remind myself I need to be grateful because we came so close to not having this. You’re never guaranteed another moment, one last hug. You may not hear “I Love you” again. It can be taken as quick as it is given and I would not trade the fight for this victory.
I got to see my son again!!!

To hang on we must let go!!

If we hold on were coddling. If we let go were not supportive.  If we help were enabling if we stop were rejecting. If we give them everything, we spoiled if we limit were neglecting.
We are stuck with what to do for our children who suffer. With every turn, we make there are different perspectives. For every yes there’s a no. Every right defines a wrong. This is the most frustrating disease. There is no medicine or cure. It’s a draw of the card and to play means you will lose.
I can’t help but sit back and look at all we’ve lost in this. Fifteen years of a broken heart and endless tears and still we fight. The internal battle as strong and unfailing as it was the first day this started.
Looking back, I wonder what the most vital lesson is I have learned? I would have said before expectations. Managing your expectations to what they are or can do is very different than what we anticipated or command.

Maybe at one time, it was enabling — tough love versus loving them to death. A fine line we all walk, stumble, often fall. As we empower them in addiction they enslave us.

A lot of times, its self-care. That’s not easy. Programmed to care for them first we fight against the instinct we were born with against who we brought into this world. We both die as we try to save life.

I cannot list all the things I have learned.  Lessons are like layers — each folding over the other unveiling the next as we go.
Now 15 years later I think the answer for me. The most important I have learned is to embrace them where they are. Know your love isn’t supposed to fix but to support. I have learned to nurture without requiring. To sustain my love without demanding his.

The best gift I can give my son as he continues to struggle is to love him where he is!  In addiction or recovery.

TO HANG ON WE MUST LET GO…

It’s funny how quiet your life can get when the chaos is removed.  Honestly, I find myself holding my breath more.
Waiting for something to come along and knock me off my feet. Why can’t I accept the silence as a long-needed break rather than a test in resilience?  I’m almost lonely for the turmoil that always comes with my son’s addiction. At least then I would have something of him. I realize how addicted I have become to him whenever we are separated. To accept the crazy so that I can feel connected to him is scary. How much would I then consent too? History has repeated itself so many times; this is a fact of the enabling relationship we develop with our addicts. This has been a staple with mine. He uses I enable. We each have our defining roles.
Only when he is gone can I begin to see how dysfunctional we are. How can that be? I love my son. I know he loves me. How can that be wrong?
THAT’S HOW ENABLING FOOLS US…it teases our hearts. Tells us its ok cause we love them. That only we can save them. Confuses our logic any right or wrong, consequence or reward blend together like paints on a canvas. We can no longer tell what’s up or down. What’s his or mine. In fact, our addictions look much in the same.
It’s no wonder when one is removed from the equation we stumble to make sense of our life.
Today I struggle with the simplest emotions of just missing my son. As he works through his consequence, I feel like I too am serving a sentence. Doing my best to use this time apart as healing and learning what I need to do for myself, I can’t help but concentrate on him and his life after this. Where will the pieces remain in the puzzle which has become us?

To hang on we must let go

Admitting you are a part of your child’s drug addiction is a hard pill to swallow. I remember the moment this realization hit me. It didn’t come all at once. It was bits and pieces revealing itself. Slowly showing me the cycle we were in and why nothing was changing. I did not understand that through all of my “help,” I was hurting them.
Watching my youngest struggle and so effortlessly I walked right into his world its no wonder I didn’t see anything till we were both tumbling head first in the rabbit hole.
People would try to save me. Try giving me advice. Make suggestions. Do this. Stop doing that. I could never take the advice and use it. I would smile and walk away angry. How could people who do not deal with addiction have the faintest idea of what I should or should not be doing? I felt judged and looked down on because of the struggles of my child. Others assume his fall into drugs must have something to do with how he was raised. Some step we obviously missed. Something we should have done differently.
I began to judge other parents for not having to deal with these issues with their kids, yet they have an opinion about mine.
I became angry and bitter. Resentful of the “normal” lives they must have.
Then the thought hit me….what if the only difference in them and I is I was able to admit my faults and mistakes. I can see what I did wrong. Maybe as parents of addicts, we do not have the luxury to live in our perfect world. For us to turn a blind eye may mean life or death. Where other parents can casually walk by we are held steadfast in place by the detrimental effects of addiction. Our problems are not a quick fix.  This is not a problem we can afford to ignore because they are uncomfortable. We have to look at all the moving parts, even if that’s us!
I have concluded that this requires us to be anything that goes against what we think a mother is. At least what my idea of a mother is. What kind of mother I had to be once I put down my armor of the “perfect mother” I was raised to be.

Often ask God why, and I think I got my answer. My child had no choice in being an addict. It takes a special kind of person to parent one.  God choose me! God gave me more than I could handle so I would choose him and through him I am exactly what my son needs to choose life.

To hang on we must let go..

I have read many blogs on drug abuse and what the addict and their families go through. I have found great resources in those blogs. When I decided to start my blog, I wanted my message to be raw and real. I wanted anyone who reads it to feel what it’s like to be in your addict’s rock bottom. I wanted it not to be so much informative but preferably understanding. I wanted anyone who read it to be able to see I’ve been there too, I’ve done that too. And in that find some comfort we are just human. We do the best we can. We fail, and we strive for better, but often we are barely hanging on.

Our days are not automatically filled with sunshine. We do not wake up looking forward to another day but dread how it will unfold. We are exhausted before we ever get started and our only solace is knowing this day will end.

Our nights are worse. If we’re brave enough to have our phones on actually looking at it sends a terror through us that chills our core. What will we find when we turn that phone over? When we listen to that voicemail? The demons that surround us at night all most makes us pray for daylight only to have the pattern repeat over and over again.
No event or special day is sheltered from the storm of our addicts. They can produce damage and debris in there wrath. They will turn happy moments that should be memories into nightmares. We are left in the wake to clean up and recover as much of ourselves as we can, but mostly we are shells of who we were vaguely going through the motions of normal life.
Our existence depends on their survival.
Here is the way we live — loving and hating.  Hoping and wishing one day, our lives will get better as they get sober and never giving up on seeing the sun again.

What have you done for yourself lately!!!  The first time someone asked me that you’d think they were speaking a foreign language to me. I don’t know what surprised me more the question or my silence.  I paused and thought and could not think of one thing to say back. Oh sure i could start listing all the things I was doing and managing for my addicts, but for myself my record was empty. I was embarrassed and shocked But that got me thinking. How could I not remember to do something for myself? How could so much time go by without me thinking of me? And why did it take someone else pointing that out to me for me to realize this?
Made me so sad to think my addict children had taken so much of me that I was no more than a passing thought in my own life.
How did I become so unimportant?
Since the first time I was asked this, I’ve been asked many more times and ive had to sit and analyze it honestly. I realized I had shifted in my feelings for myself. I have become second, sometimes not even. Once I downgraded my importance, it wasn’t hard to slip into codependency. I hadn’t realized how being their savior made me feel. How much I learned to depend on that title. It gave me my reason for being. The importance of my life became managing and fixing every catastrophe and event that my addicts found themselves into. My identity was so wrapped up in them; there was no me.
Its no wonder I could not answer that question. I was no more in touch with myself or my feelings than a stranger. And honestly, I was a stranger to myself. I had forgotten who I was.

The next several years have been about reconnecting with myself. The test of this has been hard. I’ve had to learn to let go of my sons to hold onto myself. To separate us so we could learn to survive independent of each other.  In doing that, I have started to see me again. I am not the same person I was when this journey began.
I am forever changed and in some cases, have transformed. Through all the anger, sadness, and despair, I have found the strength I would not have otherwise known I possessed.
I can now recognize beauty in my every day I would not have seen before. I have learned to appreciate my life again. I have acquired a respect for myself I would have never recognized previously.
Now when I’m asked what have I done for myself lately, I can proudly say I gave myself back to myself.  I am encouraged that I have finally done for myself what I hope to see for my sons.

To hang on, we must let go

Im so sorry i could’nt tough love you when you needed it. So sorry i followed you in thinking i was protecting you but in all honesty i only made you worse. Im so sorry when you got angry i got angrier. When you screamed i either shut down or yelled back. When you cried instead of telling you this would kill you, i told you it would all be ok. Im so sorry i told you id help you when i should have made you help yourself. Im so sorry i almost loved you to death.

Can you forgive my soul i sarificed for yours. The money i handed over to your cause. The time i gave to the disease. The tears i shed on behalf of you. The anger i spewed in place of you. The battle i fought without you. Can you forgive the weakness i showed when you needed strength. The hand up when you needed to reach farther. Can you forgive the life i surrendered for you.

Please dont judge me for being a friend when i should have been a parent. For trying to calm by joining the chaos. For hindering when i should have been healing. For trading comfort for brokenness. For allienating when i couldn’t empower. For sheltering when i should have stopped hiding.

Please love me for trying when i wanted to give up. For loving you when you hated me. For loving you in it instead of through it.  Please love me for just being your mom because i will always love you for just being my son!!!

To hang on I must let go

Never in a million years would I think id be ok letting my child hurt. This last relapse lead me to a realization that Its ok to let him hurt. That means he’s feeling and that leads to healing. Drugs cover up what they need to process. The guilt they need to accept. The anger they need to work through. This is where I went wrong with my sons. Preventing them from hurt robbed them of failing and then succeeding.

I was hurt as a kid and felt scared and alone. I was left to deal with and process situations with no direction… No guidance to healthy coping skills that I inadvertently taught my own. Avoidance and denial kept me safe, or so I thought. When my eating disorder reared its ugly head at 14 through adult hood I did not realize that was my drug. My best friend. It always saw me through. Helped me hold onto control. For years i granted authority to my eating disorder. When I was forced to let it go. I was lost, sad and felt like a part of me died. The part that could handle anything was gone. There was no place to hide anymore. No one I could lie to anymore. It was out in the open and everyone could see me….I was naked and for the first time my indivisibility that I had come to depend on had vanished.

It had a name finally. A reason for once. Questions answered and a plan to get through if id only go through the hurt. So when the enabling stopped I was forced to confront my demons. Look them in the eye and say “this was not ok” give myself permission to have a voice and not just be that submissive little girl anymore. It was ok to be angry and to be sad. To scream or cry. I was finally allowed to be validated. It was ok to let my best friend go. She had helped as much as she hindered but we had to part. She would kill me not just physically but emotionally and socially.

That process was the hardest I had ever went through. Had I  known the lessons learned could have prepared me for what I would go through with my own i could have given them what i needed so badly growing up. Safety isn’t always a hug. It isn’t always a kind word or someone being there to pick up the pieces. In the world were in its stepping back and allowing the hurt. When I was allowed to hurt I was given permission to heal. Recovery followed.

I will allow him to hurt now. Let him feel his way to recovery!!!

To hang on we must let go…

Whew!!! Clarity begins to set in as things settle down. Times I can breath are right now. knowing my baby is safe and clean. When he calls and I hear his voice not the addiction it brings tears to my eyes. Oh how much I have missed you!! Don’t ever leave us again is what I want to plead with him while he can hear me but I refrain and keep it simple “I love you”

Happiness and ease is what I hear in his voice. He is stable and clear. Can laugh with me and enjoy each other. Its these little glimpses that give me hope that he can and will overcome.

Anyone dealing with an addict knows that being clean is only the beginning of the fight. This content-ness with life will fade and old demons will surface and try to lead him back down the road to relapse. I do not take this lightly or fool myself into thinking he is safe from another attack. This is the time I have to recover and strengthen for the next battle. One where I can be an asset rather than a hinderance. I can clear my mind and process where we both went this time and why. How can I prevent myself from being drug into the sickness and stay the firm, loving example of what life can be he so needs?

When his behavior reflects years of addiction and his maturity is that of a child still how will I handle it? The selfishness, entitlement and ruthless-ness of this disease lasts far beyond the actual addiction. I will have to dig deep and stay strong in knowing my God has him and all I have to do is love him. Reminding myself that does not mean we wont suffer. Only means we wont alone.

God please with every cell in me. With every part of who I am. I am praying for recovery for my son and me!!! That we both learn to rely on you instead of this world and what it has to offer. That you will cover us both with your grace and mercy and see us through anymore that comes our way. God I ask that you help me help me!!! That as you heal my son, allow me forgiveness and walk with us both as we go through uncertain times ahead. Thank you for the small blessings that mean so much to a grieving heart. A smile, a word. A door opening where all were closed. Thank you for the changes needed to see us out of the darkness and for right now into the light. Thank you for my son!

To hang on we must let go…