I sat on the couch this morning...alone in the (very) early morning darkness and cried. My journey this morning started out on a blog I've visited before, but not often...I read a post or two, then clicked on one of the links in the "Blogs I Follow" section. The Needle and the Damage Done - Thoughts from the mother of a heroin addict.
In one of her recent posts, The Day the Nightmare Began she said
Last year, Dec. 18 to be exact, was the beginning of the realization that my son had a serious drug problem. I think its a good thing that we can't foresee our future because if I would have known then what this year would be like...I don't think I could have handled it. One day at a time is more than just a "slogan" its a survival mechanism.
I think back to the day ...four or five years ago when I discovered that Beth was smoking. Smoking cigarettes. I was distraught. It was like the end of the world.
If I had known then what I know now...I don't think I could have handled what was to come, either. I wrote quite a bit about it here on my blog during the summer of 2008...when Beth ran away 5 times in a month...when we had to get Child Protective Services involved just to find her. The psychiatrist who flat out told us she was an addict. The psychologist who just didn't know. The two steps forward and one step back. The two steps forward and three steps back. Hate filled, belligerent, angry. More than I care to go into here in this post.
I have more hope now than I have had for a while...but I am not deluding myself into complacency. I know that anything she tells me has about a fifty percent chance of being a flat out lie.
Her boyfriend..the one who exacerbated so many of our problems...the one who spent 9 months in boot camp when he was 16...and then spent 9 months in a lock down adolescent rehab when he was 18 has relapsed again. Beth broke up with him a few months ago. That is a hopeful sign for me. He has since been charged with yet another burglary. He is using again. The script of his life seems to be written. I have an enormous amount of empathy for his dad.
On another blog I visited this morning...there was also a post that touched me deeply. The blogger posted a picture of her son when he was 13...before the drugs started. She talked about him and his funny, endearing quirks, his kindness, his concern for her...and she closed with the following...
Yes, as a mother I'm caught between the memory of that boy, my beloved, and the boy that stole my car.
I so understand what she is saying. I'm not really sure how to wrap up this post. Visit these blogs if you feel led (and from there you will find links to the blogs of several dozen other parents facing the same situation) Pray for these parents and their children...and all those, the world over, (my family included) whose lives have been affected by addictions.