Well, the Cat's out of the Bag-- My son has read my blog

Dear Readers & Friends:

The moment has finally come.  In April 2008, I started this blog out of desperation and fear.  I had just dropped my son off at a Rehab Center, in Northern California.  I was spinning around, feeling a mixture of fear, confusion, anger, hurt -- and I could not believe that my son was a heroin addict.

I think the catalyst to start my blog, was when I read the book "My Beautiful Boy".  It's a poignant story, and yet it gave me hope.  My own thought was that I wanted to journal my thoughts, and one day-- when my son was ready (and I prayed when he was sober), that he would be able to read it.  I wanted my son to try and understand a mom's point of view.

Well, that day has finally come.   When B asked me if he could read my blog, over a week ago, I have to admit it made me a little nervous and a bit self-conscious.  In a way, it felt as though I would be letting him read my personal diary.  But, I did tell my son that I had a blog and that, when he was ready, he could read it.  Being the kind of person who tries to keep true to her word, I told him "yes".

I explained to my son that I hoped he would understand that some of my posts were very raw-- these were feelings that I wrote when I was feeling anger or fear.

I'm feeling tremendous relief, to be honest.  First, that my son hasn't been to the methadone clinic in five weeks. B has found, what he says, is a LOT of very useful information from Dr. Junig's blog, Suboxone Talk Zone.  B was reading his blog, and emailed Dr. Junig.  B was both relieved and surprised that Dr. Junig took the time to answer him.  B says that he has a much better understanding about suboxone. He also says that, until he read his blog, he realized he was taking suboxone incorrectly.  In fact, he's talking 75% less of a daily dose, and I can hear a different tone in my son's way of talking. I think that tone is "hope".

As his mom, I can only pray with both gratitude and supplication that the God I believe in will continue to pour his Grace upon B.   Considering the stories I've read on other blogs, I know that I am very fortunate that my son is where he is today-- he is working, he is a good roommate, and he is a good person.  Sure, he's done some things that weren't honest-- at the time he was using.  But, that's in the past.  I have forgiven him, and I believe that this has helped me to not become bitter and angry towards him.

B told me that he read my blog, last night-- for several hours. He was very nice about it, which is a relief.  In fact, my son said he went blog hopping from my blog roll.  He found Ron's blog "An Addict in Our Son's Bedroom", and liked it.  While I've never met Ron, I feel as though we are friends.  B also went to his son, Alex's, blog.  B's comment was that he could tell that Alex was in a really dark place.  He also said he completely understood where Alex was coming from.

B says he most enjoyed reading the comments.  He said that he really wanted to help that young girl who wrote to me and asked if she was an addict.  I get that, and I can only hope that she has gotten the help that she needs.

B also says that reading back to my accounting of events that happened-- from my point of view-- makes him realize that he doesn't want to go back to that lifestyle (when he was using).  

My son and I both know that his addiction will be with him for the rest of his life. He is very honest and tells me that there are days when he feels as though he wants to use-- but he doesn't.  Lately, he's been going to Dr. Junig's blog and is beginning to find that the internet is full of places where he can read and find support.

Yes, my son-- my fellow bloggers, and commentators, helped me through some really hard times.  Even Fractal Mom didn't mince words with me. While, at times, it stung-- I appreciate her candor.  I did have issues discerning the difference between enabling and helping and co-dependence. When I do go way back to ready my posts, I can see how my journey has become less arduous and that I've come a long way.  So has my son.  I do believe that he has an excellent chance of turning his life around.  I've seen him let go of the friends who needed to be out of his life.

My faith in God got me through the pain, and continues to be a very important to me.

I am always humbled and appreciative of the anonymous emails/comments I get, from people who tell me how much my blog has helped them.   You are welcome. It is why I continue to post, whenever I can.  I have no intention of abandoning this blog.

I hope that my son will take his own experience and use it to help those who are just starting, where he was five years ago.  I asked B if he would let me interview him.  Without hesitation, he said yes.

The next post, I hope, will be my son's own words to all of you.  As parents and loved ones of addicts, it is hard to understand the addict's side of the story.  Especially, if we aren't addicts ourselves-- which I am not.  I never grew up with alcoholic parents. Other than smoking weed, in high school, I wasn't into drugs.

If there is anything that you would like to ask my son-- please leave a comment.  My son is now reading my blog.  I'll get used to it.  I won't hold back, myself.  I will write from the heart, as I always have.

Early warning signs & beginning tips for parents of drug addicts.

I'm going to skip back a few topics--to the beginning, where I began to discuss how I felt, when I first learned that my son was using drugs. Only this time, I'm remembering this 22 months later, from a totally different perspective. 

I've had some interesting chats with parents of students, where I work.  I'm still trying to hone down my story, in as short of a time span that I can.  My job isn't to counsel, parents, but I can't help myself!  I so wish I could share my story with them.  I can already visualize so many of you nodding your heads. Yes, you do, too.

Over a year ago, I sat with with the high school principal, who is also my boss.  I shut his door, and told him that I am the mother of a drug addict.  I wanted M to know that I had a blog, and that he had permission to refer any parent to me.  He offered me genuine sympathy (which wasn't what I was seeking). In short, M asked me a profound question-- he asked me what would I tell a parent who is in the early stages of discovery-- of the Big Evil Dark Secret.  I thought very carefully... and it's hard to pinpoint what the best starting place is.  So, I'm going to write down some key points:

Accept it.  Yes, that's it.  If your high school principal calls you, to tell you that your student was busted with drugs, don't blame the school.

Accept that no matter how seedy your kid's friend(s) are, they did not hog tie and for your kid to use drugs. YOUR kid made that choice!

Learn.  My son had all kinds of concocted stories about the drugs he was using.  I had no idea what oxycontin looked like. I had no idea what heroin looked like-- other than movies and photos of a syringe being plunged into a vein.  There are countless blogs and websites on drugs. Read!

Trust your sources - use your common sense.  Talk to people with common sense.  Believe it or not, addicts who have been clean and sober for a long period of time (years) have been more than willing to educate me.  Addicts, who are truly wanting to live a life of sobriety, want to help others from making their mistakes.  Sometimes statistics and advice can be confusing... just read my comments!


Get on the same page as your child's other parent--  this is really tough.  I know parents, who are living under the same roof-- who handle things differently.  Your drug addict child, most likely, has learned how to manipulate.  Parents need to be united.  In my case, my son's father and I are divorced and lived in separate households. This was one of the biggest obstacles.  My only advice is that YOU educate yourself, find support and learn how to set boundaries.  That's what I had to do-- and it took a few years to reap the rewards.

Find support groups who understand drug addiction-  This is so important! Al-Anon, Nar-Anon, CODA, Celebrate Recovery (church groups) have plenty of websites to help you find one of these groups.  Try different groups-- more than once-- which is exactly what I did.  If you've never been to one, please know that this is not an arena where people will tell you what to do.  The format is that the meeting has specific guidelines, and they will review this at the beginning of each meeting.  First names are only used-- just like on my blog.  This is anonymous.  One person speaks, at a time.  Nobody else may speak. Nobody may offer advice.  The format allows each person an opportunity to "share".  You will discover that you are not alone.  You will make friends.  At the end of each meeting, you can have coffee and chat with those who stay. This is where you can have a personal conversation.

This format doesn't work for me-- and I say this, in all honesty.  I am not saying that I don't like these groups. I am saying that I lack patience with people who speak for a long time.  I have no patience for prattling (says she who writes long posts).  I have an even worse time with people who whine about the same thing ,over and over again.  I'm not giving up, and I will try a new Nar-Anon, that just started in my area.  I live in a small community, where meetings are very scarce.  I also want to say that I know plenty of people who love these kinds of meetings. It has saved their life. So, bottom line, please go-- try it, give it a chance, and I pray this is your answer.

If you can afford to see a licensed Marriage Family Therapist, who specializes in drug addiction, please go!  My husband and I did this, and it was helpful.  My son went, without us.  Then all three of us got together.  That didn't go well, because my son was lying and still using. The therapist knew it, too.  I didn't like her, and didn't go back after a while. In retrospect, I didn't want to hear what she had to say.  You see?  It's very easy to become offended and you can easily have a mental meltdown at the stress of it all.

Most importantly,  it does absolutely no good to yell at your kid, punish, threaten nor belittle them.  I say this, because I've resorted to this.  Odds are, your drug addict child, most likely feels like they are a worthless piece of doo-doo, as it is.  I'm not saying that you need to do nothing!  Of course, there are consequences and we can't enable our kid's addiction.  At times, I felt like covering my ears with my hands, closing my eyes and yelling "na na na na" at the top of my voice. I've lost plenty of sleep and cried many tears of worry and sorrow. 

Understand that, unless your own close friends and family are drug addicts or live with one-- they really won't know the right thing to say.  Some will judge you, because they don't understand.  Most of the judgment comes from ignorance.  I not a perfect mom, but I tried to raise my son with Christian morals.  Still, my son got hooked on drugs.  What works for one addict, might not necessarily work for the other.  Sobriety is hard work-- for the addict and for the parent. 

If you can get your drug addict into a treatment program, that's awesome!  By the grace of God, we had health insurance. It cost $36,000.00 for a 30-day treatment program.  Our share of the cost was $3600.00.  Yes, amen.  When my son left rehab, my best friend let my son stay with them.  "C" is in "the program" with many successful years of sobriety. God bless them, they let my son stay for one month, while we looked for an SLE (Sober Living Environment). The cost was $600.00 per month, plus food and expenses.  It's not cheap.  My son stayed clean for six months.  He was totally pumped up, and so was I.

Pray.  Ask people to pray.  Spiritual Strength = Spiritual Fitness.  You will need all the strength you can find to get through this.  This ride goes on for a very long time-- years...even a lifetime. 

It is so frustrating that families who cannot afford a treatment program are left feeling helpless.  There are places that can be affordable, so don't give up!  Teen Challenge America is one of them.  Most "free" or "reduced" cost programs tend to be Christian based.  If you don't want to do the "Jesus" thing, hopefully you can find a non-denominational place.  Overall, most of these Christian programs don't force you to be a Christian. Ask.

I cannot stress enough, how crucial it is for you to be a safe place where you drug addict can come to. By that, you need to learn to listen.  If your drug addict can begin to feel that you are listening, and you are wanting to understand, it's a step in the right direction.  I attended four-hour classes on addiction, at my son's treatment center.  I learned so much! 

I will close for now-- and next talk about some of the worst case scenarios of living with with drug addict....from stealing to jail.  I count my many blessings that my son never got arrested-- and believe me, he's had close calls.  My son never resorted to stealing a LOT-- but he certainly conned me into giving him money, and he's dipped into $20.00 here and there.  He's not Mother Theresa!

My son's treatment center told us that B had about a 3% chance of not relapsing.  Opioids are a bitch of a habit to break.  I will never fully understand what that's like.  I do understand that the odds of my son relapsing again....still... over and over again... are very high.  I've known addicts who were clean for 10 plus years, and they relapsed.  Fortunately, the longer they stay clean and understand what to do if they relapse-- they usually clean up and move on.

One of the the biggest misunderstandings/misconceptions that I had so many months ago-- I thought my son would be "cured".  By that, I figured he would go to meetings, get a sponsor and he'd make it.  I pray that drug addiction/alcoholism can find a permanent cure.  For now, we all hope that our addicts will find a treatment program that will help them to find an escape hatch-- when the overwhelming need to use comes knocking.

Drug addiction is a demon-- that waits to pounce, and tempt, and lie and steal.

It's the devil.

SIDE NOTE: It appears that the general consensus is that my son might do better to stay on methadone for an indefinite period of time.  Know what?  It's my son's decision to make.  I have to step back, and let him find his way.  I can never fully understand what he's going through.

Hindsight is 20/20 vision - Wheeling & Dealing

 Yesterday, I spent a great deal of time with my son.  It started with meeting him at McDonald's for a quick breakfast. Foodie that I am, I rarely eat fast food; there are days,though, when an Egg McMuffin just does the trick.  My son ordered three of them, and a glass of orange juice-- and he ate them with relish. I nibbled on one of them, just taking in the presence of my son. His eyes look normal, and not the dull look he once had.

FLASHBACK:  I am a single mother, trying to raise a seven year old boy on no alimony or child support.  I was self-employed, and had a 2-year lease on my business site.  Eating out was such a rare luxury for them, at that time.  How times have changed, I thought to myself, as I paid the bill without blinking an eye.

Back to breakfast-- my son was really, hungry.  We talked about anything and everything. I've noticed that conversation flows so much easier, now. Our relationship is better than it's ever been, but it's taken 8 years of drama to get where we are, today.  Seeing my son, at that moment, fills my heart with so much gratitude and love for him.  I feel as though my son is listening to me-- and that he values my opinions. I try not to give my opinions (of which I have many) unless he asks.  I try to relate with him, and at how wreckless and irresponsible I was at his age. My son told me he was broke, because he didn't get much work. He showed me receipts that he paid to get his car fixed.  He showed me his pay stub-- $400.00 for three weeks of work. Ouch. When it rains hard, there's no one using golf carts-- so he gets time off, without pay. He never asked me for money.  He was sharing his financial dire straights with me, and I didn't feel any kind of manipulation.  This is a new road we are on!

My son admitted to me that he is trying to be better in managing his blood sugars. The meter he is using is old and I told him I'd buy him a new one. I also decided to spend $50.00 on groceries for him-- just some basics and a few pantry ingredients he can use to make easy recipes. My son is too thin, and needs to eat healthier foods. My son is also earning how to cook, which makes me very happy!  He was very grateful. When he got off work, at 5pm, he came to my house and off we headed to the shopping center.  Using the dwindling trust fund he has, we bought about $100.00 worth of groceries and things he needed for his apartment.  I could see my son pick something up, on impulse, think about it and then put it back.  The same thing happened when shopping for clothes-- my son, who snubbed anything but designer clothes-- picked out a dress shirt, pants and the least expensive belt, on sale. I offered him a pair of dress shoes (knowing he didn't have any), and he picked out the cheapest pair he could find.

This is my son-- who used to have a closet stuffed full of designer clothes and a wide array of expensive shoes! This is my son who has bought and sold at least a half dozen different video game machines-- not to mention dozens of games, themselves! When I'd question where he got the items, I got answers ranging from "my dad bought them", so "I traded something for them" and even "I sold my video games".  Big red flags, that I didn't know how to handle. Maybe, even, I didn't want the confrontation. Sound familiar?

Here's a hint to parents, whose kids suddenly come home with things you don't remember buying for them--  your son just might be selling drugs.  I never imagined my son would resort to this, but he did. He's even admitted to me that there was a time he he remembers seeing me crying. I could not afford to pay my rent, and I had no idea how I would provide for my son and me.  I was falling apart with fear and worry. B told me he felt bad, because he had a couple thousand dollars, in cash, stashed in his closet.  He said he wanted to give me money, but he didn't know how to explain how he got it. Worse, he still expected an allowance from me!

In order to fund my son's growing addiction to oxycontin, he got involved in dealing in on a very large scale.  My son was 16 years old, and had just gotten his license and a car.  The car was paid for from his trust fund-- it cost $5000.00.   By the way, my son kept his curfews.  He always checked in with me. Drug Dealers are very crafty.  I never even knew what my son was up to. He was very good at living a secret life. If I got too close to the truth, he'd become verbally combative. Sometimes the fights would escalate, I'd blow my cool and tell my son to leave... or to move in with his dad, if he was with me.  HINDSIGHT: That's an addicts technique-- blow up, get angry and move attention away from the issue. If they can make YOU feel like you're the hysterical idiot, they won.  They diverted getting busted. Listen to me! I know this!

I've mentioned before, that I work at a public high school.  I hear the rumors, from faculty, that a certain student is suspected of drug dealing.  Some get caught, others seem to slip away from being busted.  What I notice is that their cellphone is always going off. 

Parents-- Let me recap the clues that I didn't pick up on.  My son confirms how much I missed-- and he got away with this for four years.  He started selling weed, at the age of 13.  He said, had I looked hard, I would have found the scale, the baggies and maybe even a stash of money.

• If your student is failing school, wake up!  Contact each teacher, and ask why their student is failing.  If the teacher doesn't call back (or doesn't reply to emails), then contact your student's counselor.  If you still don't get a response, then go to the principal.  At my high school, parents get responded to.
• If your high school (or middle school) has your student's grades online, be sure that you check the grades.  I am appalled at how many parents don't bother to check, online!  Our software program will even email a weekly progress report-- or daily, if you set it up that way. Ask!
• Many high schools send automated "absence" calls.  If possible, ask the attendance office to send the calls to your cellphone. Kids are known to intercept phone calls, and mail. Stay on top of it!
• When you ask your kid why they aren't doing well in school, the odds are they will lie.  My son always had an excuse-- "Oh, the teacher fixed that grade."  "The teacher lost my homework, but he/she is fixing it".  "The teacher hates me". "I lost my assignment".  If your kid is using drugs, they are going to learn how to lie so convincingly that you will believe them. Keep looking, and hold your kid accountable.
• Why does your kid need a cellphone? Check the bill!  Remove texting, thank you very much.  Texting is a secret world, in high schools.  When staff confiscates a cellphone, students become hysterical. Admin reads the texts, and have discovered a lot of things this way.  In looking back, my son was constantly on his cellphone.  It was his "office".  Had I looked, he had TONS of phone numbers. Take the cellphone away!  They'll hate you for it, but it's a small start.  It won't solve the problem, but why enable it?

I'll stop here, for today. There's so much more to cover-- like signs I missed that were clues that my son was high/using.  The things I wish I hadn't said. The things that just didn't work. The tricks my son played on me that convinced he was clean-- and he wasn't.  So much more to come...

To those of you parents who can relate to what I've written-- what clues did you miss?  Please share them, in comments, so that we can help others who are so new to this Dark World.

NOTE:  I received a comment from someone who wondered if my son is lying to me, and he's really using. Here's my honest answer-- there are no guarantees that my son isn't using and hiding it. Addicts are very clever.  I do believe that my son is clean-- only because of methadone-- and because I see clear signs in the things my son says, the way he dresses, the gansta slang is gone, and the fact he has no friends. He's lonely. I cannot leave each day in fear.  I leave each day in hope.

48 hours

The craziness at my job, and life in general, has made it hard for me to sit down and blog about my son. It's my lunch break, so I will try and give an update.

Cut to the chase-- my son is moving out on Friday. B seems very excited about living in his own place. The two of us are getting along great. I decided to drop the whole matter of finding evidence of drug use in his bedroom because it's moot point. He's leaving so what's the point?

Yesterday, my son kept saying how much he's going to miss me. I think the reality that he is really going to be on his own is beginning to sink in. Last night, I paid for his suboxone for the last time. I did not pay for his Ambien prescription. I told my son that, from now on, I would pay for his diabetes supplies and his step dad and I would pay the $395.00 a month for his medical, dental and vision insurance. We figure that next year he will, most likely, be dropped since he is 21 and not going to college. Hopefully, my son will find a job that offers medical insurance. I asked B to see if his current employer would let us pay the fee foro their insurance-- no cost to them, because it might be cheaper than what we are paying. He says he'll ask.

My son and I both got a little emtional, last night. The two of us talked about how much closer we have become. When B moved in with us, last December, I felt that I really didn't know him. He had been living with his father for almost a year, and I felt we were disconnected.

Now, we have had long talks. I've truly learned to back off with the nagging, because it's pointless. B has not been disrespectful to me, either. He really is maturing in some ways!

Is B using? I don't know. I stopped looking for evidence.

In 48 hours, my son is moving out and he cannot return. He will be 21 years old in two months. It is time for Mama Bird to nudge him out of the nest. Drugs or not, I don't think adult kids should be living at home-- unless, they are going to college and cannot afford to live on their own. Or, if unforeseen circumstances happen-- a loss of a job or some medical catastrophe. Other than that, I'm not one to condone adult children living at home, at the expense of their parents. My mother packed my bags when I was 18. Well, in truth, she brought me a suitcase and said "it's time"-- about a week after my 18th birthday. I never looked back and I made it.

Time are tougher, now, I realize. Jobs are harder to find and employers are less willing to provide benefits. My son's employer gives him just enough hours so that he doesn't qualify for paid vacation or insurance benefits.

The way I see it, my son will have $300.00 a month to survive on, after paying rent. That's not much money at all. His car is still not operational, because he can't afford to repair it. I wont' pay for it, and he hasn't asked me to. He's walking or getting rides from people. At least his apartment will be right across the street from his job.

My last thought I will share today-- I am feeling a sense of sorrow and concern for my son. To the men who are reading this blog-- you are wired to view life in a more pragmatic way. I say that, because I believe that women (in general) are wired to be nurturers. Men fix things. Women want to make our kids feel better. I think we hurt, deeply, when our kids are in trouble or injured. I'm not saying that men don't have feelings!Please don't take it that way. My husband is a very caring person. It's just... as a mom, I fight the compulsion to want to "save" my son. I know that, in the end, I have en0ugh common sense to understand that enabling my son isn't going to help him at all. It's so hard, though.

I know this. Still, I will miss my son. My husband and I had a misunderstanding this morning. I was saying that I will miss B when he's gone. I think he interpreted that to mean that I was being silly, since B is only moving 4 miles away. It upset me, that he cannot understand. He's not B's biological father and he's only know B for 6 years. As a mom, I was trying to say I will miss seeing B's body curled up and sleeping on his bed. I will miss hearing his snoring in the middle of the night, when I'm padding down the hallway. I will miss his "what's for dinner, mom?". I will miss his compliments on what I cook or bake. I will miss our watching television together. I will miss my son's presence. I will miss my child, who I gave birth to and I've watched grow up to be a tall and beautiful boy-- in my eyes.

I won't miss the drama, though. I certainly won't miss the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach when a dirty foil or straw is found-- clear evidence of smoking heroin. No, I won't miss that at all. But, I'll still worry and pray and pray.

I guess I'm coming to realize that my job of raising my son is finished. He's a grown young man. I will never stop being his mom, of course. I've done the best I could do-- mistakes and all.

When I look at my son, I don't see a drug addict. I see B. His smile still melts my heart.

I have been hit with a double whammy. I need to say goodbye to my adult son, hoping that he will never return home to stay. He needs to fly away and be a grownup.

I also need to say goodbye to my son, the drug addict. I can only pray, each day, that he will not relapse into full blown addiction.

I also know that I need to let go of my son. I cannot call him or check in on him. He can call me, but I need to help my son to think and survive on his own. I pray that I have taught him enough skills that he will use to live a good life. Of course, he can come and have Sunday dinner with us and we'll have holidays. Of course, I am willing to take him out to dinner once in a while, to talk and visit. Yet, I really have to let me son figure things out on his own. I absolutely will not give him money. He knows that. In fact, he hasn't asked me for any in quite some time.

Last night, we hugged. He held my face in his hands and kissed the top of my head. I'm 5'7, he's 6'3. I used to do that 15 years ago. How time flies.

I will not stop blogging. The story is not over. A new chapter is beginning.

End of lunch break.

Father, thank you for bring my son and I closer together. Thank you, God,
for the miracles you've done for us. I give my son to you, each day, praying
that B will follow the path you have set before him. Please keep him from the
Evil One and thank you for loving us.

Mom

Why Meetings Don't Work for Me

Before I dive into my topic for today, I want to say that my heart is deeply touched by the many comments I have received over the last two postings. I've heard from addicts and parents of addicts.

To the addicts who write to me-- your honesty and graphic description of your addiction brings a sense of sadness and yet a true reality to what addiction does to people. You are helping me to understand, just a little bit more, what my son might be feeling/thinking. I pray that you will find sobriety and peace in your life.

To the parents who have found my blog for the first time-- no, you are not alone. I never dreamed that a year ago, April, I would find out that my son is a drug addict. Until April 2008, I had never heard of Oxycontin. I didn't know that heroin could be smoked.

Please stick with my blog, and others that I have on my blog roll. As I find more, I will add them to my site. We need one another!

I received a wonderful email from my best friend of 32 years. She is a wonderful friend and sister to me, and someone who has known me before my son was even conceived. She and her soulmate "C" took my son into their home, when B was discharged from his 30 day rehab in April of 2008. They were so good to my son! My son thinks highly of them, though I suspect B is ashamed of his fall from grace/sobriety. I wish B would understand that P and C don't feel that way at all about him.

I want to post a clip of what she said to me, today:

"A long term program is a must for his future and I hope you can start going to Alanon again. I know in your blog today you said. "THIS is the best support I could ask for. I've tried meetings, but for many reasons, it didn' t help." I think that is the way B feels. My Sista you need to stick to the program because I think it WILL help you. It will also show B that you are taking that step in a program to overcome co-dependency. "

Let me explain why I have not found a support group that could really help me. First, I live in a small city. Unlike big places like San Francisco or Oakland, there are very few meetings for parents/loved ones of addicts.

While my son was in rehab, my husband and I went to each Al-Anon meeting we could find, in our area. I didn't feel awkward about going in at all-- so that wasn't the problem. The first meeting showed a movie dated circa 1960 about alcoholism and how it affects the brain. I had already watched several excellent movies at my son's treatment center about how DRUGS affect the brain. After the movie ended, people drank coffee and there wasn't much of a meeting. We signed our names and phone numbers to be contacted when the next group session would start-- never heard from them again.

Still, we found another Al-Anon meeting in a nearby church, and the hours worked out well for my work schedule. We went four times. We found the meetings to get to a very slow start. People read from "The Blue Book" and talked about conferences and rules and regulations were read. Literally, this took about an hour. The first time it was time to talk, I thought "cool". I can share what I'm going through, and listen to others.

I have a hard time listening to people who drone on and hog the conversation. I'd listen to long stories from people who shared stories about alcohol. I couldn't relate, try as I could.

When it was my turn to talk, folks listened. I'd get to the point (I'm far less chatty in person, and write more lengthy thoughts instead). Of course, nobody can say anything. That's the rule-- no "uh-huh's", no feedback. You are there to listen to others, and they listen to you.

By the fourth time, I realized it was the same folks talking with the same stories. Many would drone on and on and my patience (which can be testy, I admit) was running very thin.

I also attended a local Celebrate Recovery at my own church, a few weeks later. I liked the worship music, the prayer, and sometimes we'd have a great speaker. We'd split off into groups-- women and men separated. I went half a dozen times.

The rules were read. Listen, don't interrupt (wise rule), and if someone is crying do not offer them a tissue or a hug. Crying is part of the healing process, yadda, yadda, yadda.

OK, I can handle that. I don't cry often, because of my childhood. My mother turned on the faucet of tears for guilt and manipulation. Consequently, if someone sees me cry, it's been a long time coming. I don't like for people to see me cry. It's not right or wrong. That's just who I am.

Here's the problem. The group could be anywhere from six to 12 women. The issues are varied-- overeating, sex addiction, alcoholism, sexual molestation, anger and drugs. Each woman is given as much time as she needs to talk. An hour later, I'd hear all about overeating (something I can relate to, but I'm there for my son) or someone's sexual molestation stories from childhood (which broke my heart). I'm still waiting to share. I finally get to share, but again... people can only listen. When I'm finished, all the others can say is "thank you".

You see, I'm not a whiner! I was, once, because I was raised by the Queen of Whiners. Try as I did, I began to feel apathetic towards the same weekly complaining of the same problem by the same person. What was I getting from this? A headache, mostly.I'd go home, from the meetings, feeling the burden of the world on my shoulders. I'd pray for every person at the meeting and yet I'd feel that I had not met one single person who could relate to my situation!

The ONE most blessed experience I had at a CR meeting was when I got up and shared something to the entire group (this is before breaking off into small gender separated groups). I talked about my son. After the groups began to split, a young man walked up to me. He said that he was once like my son, and he regrets all the bad things he did to his own mother. He said to me "I can tell you love your son, and be patient... he'll come around". I wanted to hug that young man!

If I could be at meetings with drug addicts, I think I'd benefit most from that. I want to hear their stories and I want to know their world more-- in an effort to try and understand my son better. Does that make any sense?

If I could find a meeting that had parents just like me-- I'd do it. Long story short, I'm so tired after work that I need to find meetings that are close by and allow me enough time to unwind before falling asleep. I get up a O'Dark Thirty and if I'm sleep deprived, it's a very long day and tiring commute home. Wah, wah, wah!

So, "P", my wonderful and dear friend-- I hear you and I don't disagree with your idea. I just haven't found an Al-Anon meeting where there has been ONE person I can relate to! My son doesn't drink! He smokes heroin.

Co-dependency. I had that whole thing drilled into me at my son's treatment center. I bought books on it. I have read about the 12-steps. I'm not adverse to doing a 12-step program for myself, if I can find a group that is doing one. You have to find a sponsor. I've talked to people who've done the 12-step program on co-dependency and they say sponsors are hard to find.

However, I am not saying "no". I'm saying, IF, I could find the resources in my area I would definitely pursue attending a meeting about drug addicts-- not necessarily alcoholism. They're both addictions, but they're very different. At least, that's what I think and I'm no expert. I'm just the mom of a drug addict.

In the meantime-- my blog has evolved into a venue where I can vent when I am upset or my mind is racing on the topic of addiction. I feel as though I am sitting in a circle with people who understand EXACTLY what I am going through. I have regular folks to email me, privately, and who share their deepest pain with me. They lift my spirits, or ask me for advice. They send cyber hugs to me.

When an addict leaves a comment on my blog, you can bet that I am listening to them. I pray for them, whether they asked me to or not. I think of them, and I feel as though we are in this mess together.

When I look back at my postings between December and now-- I see how much I believed my son. There are some truths in things he's done or he's told me have happened to him. Likewise, there are plenty of lies. My son stretches the truth, thinking it's not quite a lie. My son is full of excuses and empty promises.

I think I had so hoped that my son was on his way to sobriety. I was so wrong.

I do know this, without a shadow of a doubt. My son loves me. I absolutely 100% believe that my son does NOT want to lie to me. My son knows that I'm not stupid and I think he is burdened with guilt-- and I don't have to cry or whine to induce that feeling.

I believe that my son is a person who has the Lord living in his shadow. My son is in bondage to a very evil thing called drug addiction. It's so vile and so strong, that my son is being held captive by a strong need to feed his brain with a chemical that lies to him. I believe that my son has days of sobriety and then he loses it and he uses. He's in a vicious cycle of thinking he can find true sobriety on his own.

My son is leaving our home at the end of the month. He knows this. At least my son is not being thrown out and I forgive my son. I really do. I am not angry at my son and I don't hold any kind of with for him to "get what's coming". I think that my son needs to struggle and to truly see what he has thrown away. He has to make a conscious decision to choose the path in life he wants to talk. He is fighting for his life, by all the life preservers I've sent him haven't reached him. I finally know that.

My husband and I will support my son-- not financially, but in a spiritual and loving way.

My husband is going away this Thursday through Sunday on a camping trip, by himself. He does this every year, and it's a male spiritual rejuvenation for himself. While he is gone, it will give alone time for my son and I to really talk.

Since I found his last batch of foils, we have not talked about the 5000 pound gorilla that's been in our living room. We are cordial, but he can't totally look me in the eyes. He's riddled with guilt, I think.

Me? I'm sad and I'm loving him all at the same time.

My son must move out and find his own way. I am mentally preparing myself for this.

Enough for now.

I have reached my own bottom

B called me, last night, to say that he was heading to the Bay Area for the weekend.

My heart stopped, and before I could stop myself, I blurted "but, you have no money!".

"I know. "C" said he'd pick up the whole tab".

(Who the hell is "C", I'm wondering?)

I take a deep breath and ask, "Is C someone you should be hanging around with?"

"Totally, mom", he says with conviction.

I don't feel so convinced and my head is spinning.

"But what about the insurance seminar you said you had tonight?", I asked.

No reply.

I knew my son had made up his mind to blow off another potential job opportunity he'd been offered.

He asks me if I still have the phone number for the (crazy) ex-roommate he had in San Francisco. This is the alcoholic mother who B got addicted to oxycontin and then smoking heroin, last year. The same woman who bounced $200.00 in checks to my son (for drugs, I'm guessing), and I blogged about here.

"No, I don't", I reply. "Why would you want it?!"

"I want to make amends", he says.

(I'm thinking, maybe he wants to reconnect with more of Satan's demons.)

"Did you pack your insulin?", I ask.

"Yes, mom."

"What about your suboxone?", I ask. (I hide the whole bottle, doling it out to him daily).

"I have extras, he says".

Quickly my brain sends ice down my spine. He has extras? Is he still chipping, I wonder to myself. I decide to shut up and say nothing. It's futile anyway. He'd only deny it.

"Mom, you sound worried", he says.

"I am. All I can say, B, is to please be careful. Stay clean. Stay sober. I love you."

My husband and I enjoyed some much needed alone time. Just the two of us. We grilled steaks and I made baked potatoes and a simple salad. We were both tired from a long work week.

I slept pretty well, but a few times I'd wake up enough to think of my son and to ask God to protect him.

This morning, I went into B's room to water plants he forgets to take care of.

I saw it. A wad of foil with the heroin tracks.

Burnt offerings to the devil.

My heart lurched and I felt sick.

My husband originally found them, and had written the date on the foils. I have left them, for my son to see when he returns. The foils disgust me.

I ask my husband how he found them. He says he searches B's room right after payday (once a week, on Wednesdays). Thursday night, B stayed in his room most of the night, very quiet. He skipped dinner with us. He came out at 9pm, appearing tired but I didn't notice anything odd.

My son needs to be in a one year program. He needs help. He cannot do this on his own. He's been lying the whole time, and I wanted so much to believe him. Except for about two month after his initial 30-days in rehab, I doubt my son has been clean for more than a week.

HOWEVER, please understand that I am in no financial situation to afford this. My son needs to find one, on his own. I know he's fighting this option, because the free ones aren't the Ritz Carlton. He sees himself "above" the homeless drug addicts. He's right. My son is a pampered boy who dresses nicely and looks totally preppy. He'd feel totally out of place, but he needs to realize that many homeless addicts were probably just like him at one time!

I cannot afford it. Please don't suggest it, because it upsets me. This is out of my hands.

I'm tired of the lies. I hate to say it, but this makes his moving out a tiny bit easier. I've reached my bottom.

Once again, I feel like I don't know my son. He' s in bondage and he needs to reach bottom or he will die from an overdose or end up in jail.

God helps us all.
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ADDENDUM: It's been over an hour since I posted this. My husband has done a sweep of B's room. We've found more foils and more dirty straws. The lunches I have lovingly made for him? Many are under his bed, uneaten and moldy.

My son is using full-blown heroin. He has lied and hidden it well.

I have moved from anger and disgust to pain and sadness. I hate addiction. It's so evil and it destroys everything in it's path.

God help me, please!

My own denial

Somehow, I've managed to shove my son's addiction under a rug of denial.

I can't seem to blog about my son. It seems that I have found every excuse to stay busy doing "me time". I spent most of my summer vacation, lost in working on my food blog, photography, swimming, reading, cooking, baking, running errands-- anything to keep me from having think about my son's addiction.

I'm back at work, trying to readjust to getting up early, the commute to work-- and realizing that I have drifted away from my spiritual self.

How is my son? Unfocused. But, is this his youth or the drugs?

I need to get back to reading everyone's blogs. It helps me so much to read other people's updates and feelings.

It's like I'm frozen in denial. I can't deal with my feeling of discouragement.

I need to rely on prayer, because I'm feeling so discouraged. I haven't felt this way in a very long time. I am definitely under spiritual attack!

1 Peter 5:8

⁸Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. ⁹Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that your brothers throughout the world are undergoing the same kind of sufferings.

How to be clean and dirty at the same time

I am totally perplexed. Honestly, I do not know what to say or think.

My husband found a lot of really incriminating evidence. It doesn't look good. We found foils with traces of heroin, straws in all kinds of places in B's room. They weren't hidden very well. They were in the trash and under his bed. When we confronted them, he said they were old things.

When I asked him why he would keep these things he said that he was afraid to throw them out-- for fear that we'd thnk they were new. Of course, we asked for a urine test. We had him come out of the bedroom in his boxers. B asked if I wanted to frisk him, but it felt too weird.

I use drugs tests that his doctor confirms are accurate. I buy them online. It comes with a sealed cup and a temperature monitor. My husband used my accurate food thermomenter (Ewwwwww) and it was 103F. This made my husband very nervous. My husband also said that the urine looked really cloudy-- with a lot of sediment.

The test came out clean for THC, Cocaine and Opiates.

What is going on? To make things worse, my husband inspected B's golf bag. He found a bottle that smelled and looked like a small trace of urine. The lid had burn marks. So, is it possible that he's storing clean pee and heating it with a lighter? Is he sneaking this into the bathroom?

What's really weird is that I had another of of my dreams-- just like when I was in Hawaii last October. In Hawaii, I dreamed that my son was laughing at me and saying he'd be using all the time. It was such a vivid dream, that I woke up with a terrible sense of forboding. I blogged about that-- that I turned on my cellphone to talk to my son. B told me it freaked him out, because that was the very day he started using again.

Last Monday, I had a similar dream. I dreamt that my son was laughing at me, saying that he'd been lying about his sobriety this whole time.

I told my husband and B that I'd had another one of those dreams. I've been watching B all week. He seems nervous -- smoking a lot more cigarettes than usual. He's been nodding off-- with his mouth open. This is typical behavior of someone who is using. How do I know this? At B's treatment center, this is how many of the addicts look during the meetings we attended. Those who were going through detox kept nodding off-- their heads bobbing up and then they'd nod out again.

All of this week, B has been gone more-- ever since he got his car insurance back.

Things are worse, too. B is in debt again. Not a whole lot. In some ways, it could be innocent. He missed out on four days of work, due to illness. So, his paycheck has been short. I've made him pay rent anyway, because that's the way life is. My son hates being without money, so he borrows from friends. He's been playing golf, which I know he could not afford.

He finally told me, today, that he's been stressing about it. He wrote a check at his job for $40.00, but his bank account is overdrawn by $20.00. I prayed about it, and loaned him the money to pay this off, so he wouldn't get fired. The last thing my son needs is to lose his job. In return, he wrote that he agrees to hand over his paycheck to me and I will handle his finances until all debt is wiped clean again. Plus, we took his golf clubs as collateral.

Then again, he could be in debt because he's using.

To add insult to injury, his job just called. All employees who work the lotto booth, at his job, are called in for an emergency meeting $800.00 has gone missing from the lotto booth-- all during a power failure yesterday. The cameras were out during these two hours. B is a nervous wreck.

My son is an addict and he lies. But, I can say that my son is not a thief. If he was, I would have found money missing long ago. My son has never stolen cash from us, nor any kind of valuables. I know this, for a fact. I've never found cameras, computers, laptops, jewelry, checks nor cash missing. Ever. B chose, instead, to fund his drug addiction by selling his own possession and/or dealing drugs.

B says that a new guy was hired, who he thought was kind of shady. Perhaps this guy is the thief. If my son is innocent, we reminded him that he can't be fired for lack of proof. Still, it's all too much for me.

If anyone, who is a drug addict, is reading this-- please enlighten me on how someone can test clean but use drugs at the same time. And, if I see my son taking suboxone under his tongue and that he can't talk because it's dissolving-- can you still smoke heroin?

Dear God,

I am praying for truth. I am praying that you will reveal, to my son, that you are an all-knowing and all-seeing God. I pray that my son will admit the truth to himself and to you. I pray, Lord, that you will reveal the truth to us-- his mom and his stepdad. If my son is really using drugs, I pray that you will give us courage, strength and wisdom to know what to do. If my son has relapsed, again, I pray that he will find the strength to seek the professional help that he needs. If my son is telling the truth, and he is not using drugs, I pray that you will help us to encourage him with his sobriety.

I pray for the addicts who are struggling with their sobriety, Lord. I pray that you will help them to know that nothing is impossible for you-- and that they would come before You, Almighty Father-- and know that you love them and that can help them to battle the demon of addiction.

I pray for the family and loved ones of drug addicts. I pray that God will give them encouragement and wisdom.

I will post an update as soon as I know what's going on. To my family and loved ones-- please don't call me about this. I do not want to talk about it. I appreciate your prayers and your love. Just read the blog. This is why I started this over a year ago.

I am afraid, yet I know that God is with me.

My "Soul Talk" to me-- the mother of a drug addict

I am not happy with myself. That is not to say that I'm not happy. I've had to talk a hard look at myself and I had a conversation with my soul-- that inner person that lives inside my heart...my thoughts... my "being".

I miss my fun-loving self. I realize that I've become a recluse, at home. I'm so starved for my quiet time-- "me time" that I have become territorial when anyone distubes my sanctuary...my home. Consequently, I find myself lacking patience with my son. I tune out his chatting to me by becoming fixated on my lap top.

I'm busy. I'm trying to solve a problem (uploading or editing a picture).

What has happened?

I think that the root of my problem is that my son's addiction has taken over my life. For most of last year, I spent months agonizing about my son's sobriety. I had to battle my motherly tendency to NOT enable my son.

I have learned to hate the word co-dependence. I've read books on it, but my son has used that label to push my buttons... "mom, you're a co-dependent".

That's it! My son has learned how to push my buttons. I have a lot of them--

IMPATIENCE. INSECURITIES. HIGH EXPECTATIONS. PERFECTIONISM. JUDGMENT.

My son seems to have found where they are, and he knows how to push them.

I was looking at photos of my son, that are hanging in my hallway. I still see that precious beautiful boy. I realize that I am collapsing around feelings of dsappointment for how my highest hopes for my son didn't happen.

Who knew that my precious boy would start smoking weed in middle school? Sadly, I missed all of the signs. This morning I was remembering a time when I found a box of baggies. I remember asking my son while they were in his car... I cannot remember his excuse. Little did I know, until my son recently told me, that he was dealing weed and (according to him) making a lot of money.

I remember noticing his collectin of video games... new (and expensive) shoes, that I could not afford... new clothes-- and being told that his dad bought them. Little did I know that drugs paid for these.

I've tried not to blog much about the stories my son has admitted to me-- about the supposed tens of thousands (he claims $100,000) he's made dealing drugs, over the years. My son was telling me this recently, and I asked him -- "where is it? what have you got to show for it?"

He paused. "Up my nose".

Sad. So sad.

My hopes and dreams for my son was that we would be close. I never had that with my parents. At times, I feel we are close. Recently, I feel we are not on the same page.

I have stopped asking him to come to church with me. I can't make him.
I have listened to him say hurtful things like I'm "too religious" and his friends don't like talking to me, because they feel that I preach.

That's a button my son loves to hit-- INSECURITIES. Most times, what he says isn't true, or he has exaggerated it. Still, it makes me cry-- alone. I don't show it, but it hurts very deeply.

I feel as though my JOY button is broken. I've become so serious, arouind my son. He says I'm grumpy....testy... bitchy. I probably am.

I have deep-seeded anger towards where my son's life has been. He has a long way to go.
Already, he lost his new phone. It's been less than a week. He got it back, but he had to back-track to where he left it.

He's overdrawn. Again. His check to the IRS bounced. Why? Because he's taking money out with his ATM from places, other than his bank. It's not for drugs... $10.00 here and there.

There goes my HIGH EXPECTATIONS button. I have tried, every way that I can, to teach him how to manage his money.

Let my son makes his own mistakes. Let my son learn from his mistakes.

Yes, I know. But my JUDGMENTAL button gets pushed and I become really irritated with his lack of responsibility.

I know that what I need to do is to let go of what I have no control over. As a God loving, Jesus Believing Christian... I know that I need to lay all of this at the foot of the cross. I know that God has a plan. I know that God feels my pain. I know that nothing is impossible for God to do.

Yet, somehow, my soul feels weak and I want my joy back.

I love my son and I know that he needs to live with us to learn life skills. But for how long?

Will he ever learn?

Then, there is still my fear of his addiction calling him back.

I try to keep a positive attitude. But, I think I'm heading into a meltdown.

I haven't been blogging on a regular basis. I need to do that, more.

It feels good to unload what I've carried for too long.

I have to get back to work. I'm sitting in the library of the high school where I work. This is where I come to blog-- not from my desk, during work hours.

I am tuning out dozens of high school kids who are acting plain silly. That's just how they are-- despite their beards and muscular legs. My son still acts like he's in high school.

More later....

I'm still trying to sort out my feelings. My soul is feeling tested right now.

I have run out of time to proof read or edit...so here is my entry, in the raw.
(Yeah, I'm a perfectionist... it comes from insecurities and a mother who was just like I'm starting to become. God help us all.)

Mom

...and the devil makes me eat my words. Brian is gone, again.

My son has peeled out of th driveway in his car-- suspended license and no insurance. He won't answer his cellphone.

What happened?

During the week, there are no problems with my son living with us-- for the most part. He comes home, naps, eats dinner, helps to clean the kitchen. He reads a book.

Weekends are another matter. He sleeps in late, smokes cigarettes, watches TV, lives in his pajama and eats whatever is in the kitchen.

He doesn't have any money-- he makes $200.00 a week, and he's paying off his debts. He's almost debt-free.

I had much to say, but my husband just found foil and a straw.

One Gem of a Blog Post

I wanted to update that my son tested as clean last night. The three of us cheered, in joy. FYI-- we are aware that addicts are known to keep urine stashes and to switch them. We make him test in our bathroom and check him beforehand.

As B and I hugged each other, he was trembling. "Mom, I want this (sobriety) so bad!"

As the mantra goes-- one day at a time....relapse is part of the recovery...let go, Let God, "The Three C's-- I didn't cause it, I can't control it, I cannot cure it".

Got it.
------------------------------------
How I wish I had found this blog much sooner! The woman is a brilliant writer. LOVE her blog!
It appears that she's not going to blog for the month of February. I'm hooked.

I had to post one of her MANY insightful blogs on being the mother of a heroin addict. It spoke "VOLUMES" to me:

From: "Broken Hearted Mom"

My son has been a heroin addict for 8 years, give or take a year. Junkys have a hard time with chronological events. I know heroin. I know rehabs, paraphernalia, police cars in the drive, relapses, lies, dope sick, proper attire for inmate visits, counselors, social workers, and endless advice from people who don't know shit about heroin. I know that if your kid is addicted to prescription opiates or crack or alcohol, you are living a life similar to mine. Don't know much about meth, except that my son did it a few times when he couldn't get his drug of choice, heroin. He said he didn't care for it. How lucky am I!

If you came here by searching heroin, because you are in that frantic early stage where you think that by educating yourself, you can fix this, I give you the top ten ways you can tell your kid might be an opiate addict.

#10 You can't find at least one item of yours that had great sentimental value and cannot be replaced.

# 9. You sleep with your car keys under your pillow, and keep your purse under the bed.

# 8. You have received at least one inappropriate and shoplifted Mother's Day gift.

# 7. He doesn't have one of the Christmas or birthday gifts you've bought him.

# 6. All of your day is spent on his overwhelming problems.

#5. Everything has to be done RIGHT NOW

# 4. Your idea of rock bottom is his idea of another day in paradise.

# 3. You've had him jailed because you wanted him to be safe.

# 2. You sometimes believe that he can overcome this with your unconditional love.

# 1. Your head knows its not your fault, but your heart is broken.

Give your addict a test...not a pop quiz

I could hardly wait for this Saturday morning so that I could sleep in, enjoy my morning cup of coffee and to catch up on email. This has been a very hectic week at my job and in dealing with B's recent discovery that he has been using since his return from rehab #2 in October.

I'm feeling less pensive today-- I give credit to the weather being sunny and glorious, a good night's rest and a therapy session with my husband last night. On the way home, alone in my car, I felt as though God had given me wisdom. So, I'll jump right into it:

B has his car back. It's semi-fixed, but he says that it's just not quite right. He cannot afford to have the axle repaired to good-as-new condition. He's been home and he has moments of being in good spirits and moments of having chills (chattering teeth and all). His appetite varies. These are all stages of detox from opiates.

Yesterday, B came to my job to deliver my forgotten cellphone and I had a chance to meet his sponsor, "D". We chatted for about five minutes. I noticed that B's eye were dilated. From what I understand, and B acknowledges, this is a sign of withdrawal. He appeared anxious-- either signs of withdrawal of using. He was headed to our local college, with his sponsor, to try and get his paperwork in for financial aid. My impression of his sponsor was that he was a nice looking young man. I invited him to our home, for Super Bowl, so that we could all talk. "D" is willing to share his story. He seems to care about my son, and so I left with a hopeful impression of "D".

Our therapy session-- we told "J" about B's newest episode. She looked so disappointed, since she's had two private sessions with him. Basically, she said that the odds of my son's success in an outpatient program are very grim. She believes that B should be in a one year in-patient program. I agree-- but I can also tell you that it's easier said than done.

She asked how often we had tested B, and we realized that it was only once.
"Why?" she asked. C and I both paused...and he answered, "Because we thought that he was doing so well".

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

First, B has to be willing to go. He isn't. I believe that B's reluctance is that he is deathly afraid of detox-- true detox... dry detox. From what addicts tell me, it is worse than natural childbirth. They say that the physical pain of withdrawal from opioids is so frightening that it is usually why they continue to use. I have been told that, unless you experience it, it's hard to explain the agony of it all. Is this a good excuse? Yes and No.

B went through dry detox in April. He was an in-patient for 30 days at a top-rated facility. It cost $36,000.

So, there is problem #2 - In-patient treatment is costly. I am still making arranged payments for my share of what the insurance did not cover. I cannot afford another round, and as long as B has medical insurance, they will not give a waiver on the balance due. This seems to be a universal law.

There are in-patient facilities and I have spoken to a few. They can be "free" but they are all dry detox. You get a bed, and you go through the agony of physical withdrawal. Last night, B said that he can't do it. He won't. He's scared to death, and I can see it.

My husband and I sat close together, and he was supportive and loving. I feel confident, that our marriage is growing closer because of this. As I've said before, he is a man with a good heart. I'm blessed to be loved by him. He understands my love for my son, and he says he will never put me into a position to make a choice.

That gave me a sense of peace and comfort. As I listened to "J" saying that she doubts my son will succeed in his idea of getting into an outpatient facility (I called, and got the info...and B did go for an intake on Thursday), I was hit with a big dose of fear.

Towards the end of the session, I concluded that I was going to give my son the LAST AND FINAL CHANCE. I mean it-- this is it. The Last Stand.

"J" said that it is vitally important that I mean this. I know. Should my son fail to stay clean, then I have to be strong to let him go. I have always known this. Even if it means that he will use to the point of being caught and arrested, overdosing, or killing himself-- I know that this is the ugly path that untreated addiction will lead to.

I know that if, and when, the time comes, that I have to be strong and to let my son go.

There was a palpable sense of acceptance-- from my husband, that the decision is to allow B one last and final chance...from our therapist that this is my decision, from a mother's compassionate heart... that this was a decision I must stick with and follow through.

"C" and I were in separate cars, which gave me the time to think alone. That's when I felt a strong presence of God. It was as though God gave me the strength and a clear understanding of what I must say and do.

First, I decided to test B. I knew that this test would be my "baseline". That is, I figured that he'd test positive. He has only been clean (in theory) for less than five days).

I felt a strong conviction that I cannot give my son a penny. Not for snack food, gas or even special grocery requests. B should be thankful to be staying in our home. He can eat what we have. Period. That should be MORE than enough luxuries and it is certainly a better alternative to living on a friend's couch or sleeping on a kitchen floor.

When I got home, B was waiting for me and C was a few minutes behind. C offered to stop and buy Crystal Lite drink mix, since it's sugar free and B does drink a lot of fluid (part of his diabetes). B would rather drink sugar sodas, but I don't buy them-- ever.

I felt a renewed sense of confidence. I picked out a coffee mug and handed it to B.
"Here. Go pee in our bathroom.".
B said he couldn't, so he drank water.

"Let's talk", I said, as C walked into the door.

B's demeanor seemed calm and accepting.

I began to talk to B and I told him about our session. I told him that I agreed with out therapist that I felt B was taking a huge risk in thinking an outpatient program would be his answer to sobriety.

I told him that I had made my decision-- that he was living in our home for the LAST AND FINAL TIME. I reminded him that if he uses drugs, and I get a positive drug test that he would have to pack what he could, I would drop him off someplace and we would change the locks. I told him that if he called me, I'd hang up. He would have to find a third party if he needed to communicate to me.

I told him that Tough Love, Phase I begins--

• Expect random drugs tests often and randomly
• I will not give him money. No gas money. No fast food money. Nothing. If he needs money, get a job.
• I told him that his car insurance is cancelled as of March 9th. His premium is paid through February 15th. I would not pay anything to insure his car.
• He either goes to school and/or has a job. No laying around the house.

He readily agreed to all of it. He says he is already thinking of how to ride the bus. I will buy him a bus pass, but no cash.

Tough Love, Phase II begins when he gets thrown out of the house.

B took his drug test and it came out positive for opiates. I expected this. He is still detoxing. I will test often and he gets a few more days. Five more...tops. It better come out clean.

B and talked later on. He appears to be remorseful and he admitted he is afraid of being thrown out. I can only pray that his fear of my random tests will be enough to keep him from wanting to use.

B went on to explain to me how horrible his addiction is... he needs help. Professional help. He needs prayer, love and to earn back our trust.

We need God in our lives.

If you have a child who you suspect is using-- don't ask them if they are. They will lie.
Test them. Do it! I wish I had done that a long time ago. Had I known how easy they are to buy, I would have known sooner how deep in trouble my son was.

Please- test your child, if you suspect odd behavior. If only I had known...

I promised myself to go and exercise at 9:30 and it's past that. I'm going to quit for now.

I'll post again later. I'll post the links to where I buy my online drug tests. They are the same ones that doctors use. They cost about $5.00 each. They work.

I want to enjoy the weekend. I have no time to proof read or spell check.

Blessings.

What to say to a parent like me

I know that my blog was pretty long and wordy, yesterday. Believe it, or not, I wrote the Reader's Digest Condensed version of what the last three days have been like.

HELL

I have received personal emails, comments and phone calls from friends and loved ones.

Thank you.

Some of you, with only the best of intentions, written or said that you don't know what to say. I understand. I really do. I don't expect for anyone to say something so profound that I will feel healed. I appreciate your concern, very much. Phone calls aren't my preferred method of contact, right now. I don't particularly want to TALK about my son, and all the sordid details. Can you understand that? If you would take the time to post a comment--just a "Hi, Debby, I want you to know that I am praying for you" means a lot to me. It lifts my spirit more than you can know. What I'm trying to say is this-- I am writing about my feelings with total candor. One day, I hope that my son will read my blog so that he might understand that he is not the only person who is suffering because of his addiction. It is my deepest hope that my blog will end with my son's own entry, stating that he is "saved"...that he is sober and that he will fight as hard as he can to stay clean.

It's like hearing that someone has died. What do you say to those who are left behind? I used to feel awkward about that-- until my mother died. I realized, then, that I was perfectly okay talking about my mother. In fact, I welcomed hearing people talking about my mother.

For the parent of an addict, what we don't want to feel is alienated. If anything, we long to talk with other parents of addicts. I appreciate hearing from other addicts, too. That is what my blog has evolved into being to me-- a way to meet people who share my story. Or, meeting someone like Dr. Junig who is not only a drug addict in recovery, but someone who fully understands the medical aspects of addiction.

What do you write or say to me? Just one line, telling me that you are praying for us means so much to me. You don't have to avoid contacting me, because you feel you have no advice to give. Every family and every addict has a different story. What works for one person, doesn't necessarily work for another. Advice isn't necessarily what I'm needing. Just knowing that there are people out there, who share in my coping with having an addict in the family.

I refuse to allow myself to feel ashamed of my son. I don't. I love my son, unconditionally. I am not ashamed of him. I do not want my son out of my life. Yesterday, my son said that he'd be better out of my life. That breaks my heart.

Today, I am still trying to digest all that has happened. I am trying to sort out my feelings, and trying to direct my anger in the right direction. I hate drugs, and my hatred and anger is directed at addiction.

I keep hearing the cliche that my son "made his own choices". There is some truth in that, but I doubt that my son has CHOSEN to become an addict. I believe that whatever unresolved hurt and anger that B has inside him has found that drugs help him to escape the darkness that is in his soul.

My son has not chosen to turn his life into a train wreck-- thought, that's where he's headed. Rather, I think that my son chose to jump onto a runaway train and he doesn't know how to get off. He's afraid to take the all important first step-- literally. He's in denial of his problem. He still believes that he can do this on his own.

Whether B uses suboxone, methadone or goes into a high faluttin' rehab center (that we cannot afford), he will never find sobriety until he desires it enough to fight for his life. Right now, he's chipping-- he is juggling suboxone for a few days, and then surrendering to smoking heroin so that he can find that "perfect place" that he says his high gives him.

Chasing the dragon...

For me, I think of him constantly. As I sat through church, I listened to a message called "Hurt People Hurt People" and I jotted down pages of notes. My son is hurting, but I cannot help him to heal his pain. He blames others for his problems. I believe, personally, that he needs to own up to his baggage. He needs to claim it. He needs to take responsibility for the hurts and disappointments in his life that he has collapsed around. He needs to find that blaming others for his problems is not working.

Still, I miss him. There is a void in my home. His room looks like a guest room again. All of his belongings are boxed and put away. Still, I feel his presence and absence.

My son has deprived me of being what I love most-- a nurturing mom. My meal plan still sits on my refrigerator door... meals that I wanted to make to please my family. Now, it's back to just the two of us. I love being a wife, but it's not the same as being a mom. Those of you who have kids, understand what I am talking about.

Last night, B sent a text message to me. He wrote that he loved me, and thanked me for everything. He said that he had taken his insulin, and antibiotics and that he was going to sleep.

Right now, I have no idea what he's doing or how he is doing. I need to leave him alone, to sort through things, on his own. If he paid his drug dealer, I do not know. If he lied and used the money to buy more drugs-- only God knows.

If you and I have never met, but you are reading my blog-- any kind of comment is precious to me. Please be kind, though. Negative comments that criticize how I am dealing with my son's addiction... they hurt. I still read them, think about them...but they affect me.

I might sound like a strong woman, but I have a lot of insecurities. There is a still a wounded child inside me.

I will blog a lot more often than I have in the last few weeks. Subconsciously, I so believed that my son was clean and that he had a handle on his addiction. I was wrong. All along, B has been living a lie and saying just the right things to try and please me.

I love my son and I am not ashamed of him. I hurt for my son. I do not want my son to die nor do I want my son to end up in jail.

I try in my Higher Power-- my Abba Father. God-- the creator of the Universe. I pray that what is happening, right not, is all part of God's plan. Sometimes, God has to allow us to suffer for many reasons... to draw us nearer to Him, to build our trust in Him, to build our character or to bring us to our knees... where we might finally cry out and surrender to Him.

2 Corinthians 12 (New International Version)

7To keep me from becoming conceited because of these surpassingly great revelations, there was given me a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. 8Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. 9But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. 10That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

If I don't call for three days, you'll know I'm dead

Before I explain my title for today, let me say that my son is gone. He has left my home.

I gave B his antibiotic at 8am, this morning. He snarled at me, that he wanted to sleep. A few hours later, we told B that we were going into town to get groceries. He asked for some hot soup.

C and I drove B's car to the repair shop. B admitted to me that he had fallen asleep at the wheel in a parking lot and ran over a concrete barrier. Most likely, he has broken the steering linkage. In a way, it seems like God's blessing-- with B not having a car, he cannot drive to find drugs.

When we returned, having been gone maybe an hour, B was dressed and in the backyard. He seemed alert and fine. He summoned me into his bedroom and started telling me "Mom, I've been using since the day I left rehab (in October). He started to spill the beans, but I suggested that the three of us (my husband, C) join in with this discussion.

B admitted that not only did he start using as soon as he left rehab, but his roommate (from the treatment center) told him that they could make all kinds of money selling drugs in the tenderloin district of San Francisco. B said that he was dealing pills to support his drug habit.

Nice, huh...


So, C and I asked him what he wanted to do. B said that "I know that I'm out of here, and I'm leaving today". We told him that we wanted him to stay long enough to heal with his strep throat and to get his insurance squared away. We told him that we were not throwing him out, but that we wanted him to go into rehab and then he could come back to live with us. He responded that the last rehab didn't do a bit of good, so this time would be a waste.

I cannot write every detail down, as this discussion lasted for a couple of hours...off and on, and in bits and pieces. The highlights that I will share is that B does not feel ready to get clean. In other words, he has not gone low enough that he has to reach up from touching bottom.

This was my turning point where I realized that I had to let my son leave. Letting him stay with us, without my son wanting to get professional help, was pointless.

I have a lot of raw feelings to blog about, but that will come later. For my family members and friends, who want to be kept updated, I am sharing what I want you to know.

Drug addiction is very dirty business. It means that you need a source to get the drug that you want. It means that the addict needs to find a source to get the money to buy the drugs that their addiction demands that they do. Like it or not, drug addicts will resort to just about anything to support their habit. In my son's case, he deals. He's been selling his prescription anxiety meds and suboxone to buy black tar heroin. It's his drug of choice, now.

What I'm trying to say is that my son owes his dealer for 6 grams of heroin. That's $360.00, total. Where we live, there is a gang problem. There have been 12 shootings and 6 deaths since the first of this year. These are all gang related shootings. Gangs sell drugs. That's just how it is. Gangs kill each other to protect their turf. My son owed a gang member money for drugs he smoked. B's cellphone was ringing off the hook. I could hear B pleading with his dealer to give him one more day to come up with the money.

What does a mother do? Am I enabling my son, by letting him suffer the consequences? Am I going to risk my son being shot or stabbed or beaten up, because he owes money to a drug dealer? What do you think? Is this tough love? Am I making a mistake in helping him? B never asked me for the money. He knows that I won't give it to him.

I prayed about it.

I told my son that I would give him the money (from his trust account) under ONE condition-- that the money is given to a third party who pays off the dealer. My son cannot have the money.

Scroll back to a couple of days ago-- a woman I refer to as "C". This is a woman that my son met, at the time that she was homeless. Like many homeless people, her story is one living a hard life. Yes, she once used drugs. She's been clean for many years. BUT, she was hit by a car and lots of bad things happened to her. She lost everything. Many times, in my own prayers of thanks to the Lord, I thank Him that I have never been homeless, jobless nor known starvation. I have compassion for homeless people, rather than disdain. I believe that homeless people have a story to tell.

"C" offered to let my son come and stay in her small ramshackle home, in the downtown area of where I live. For those of you who do not know where I live-- I am in a rural area. I live in a gated community, in a small but lovely home, that I rent from a cousin. It is my little "bubble" of safety where I live-- there is no danger with gangs where I live. Only 10 minutes drive, down the freeway, is the center of the city where I live. It's relatively safe, but there is an East Side. I don't go there, and I have always avoided it. I don't belong there, and I'd stick out like a sore thumb. "C" lives far from that area, and very close to a public high school. It's not a bad area, but there is more crime in that area. It's a low rent section. So, that is where B is right now.

"C" called me from B's cellphone as I stayed parked outside her house. She's embarrassed to have me in. She must think I'm a rich mom, which I am not. Anyway, she confirmed that B had given her the $360.00 in cash. She said that she, and a male friend, will pay off the blood money to his dealer tomorrow. She told me that I had made the right decision, because B could very well be killed or injured for the money. Dealers don't haggle and they don't play games.

As I sat outside the house, I felt so dirty. There were two cops parked in front, and I immediately felt like I shouldn't be there. They drove away, and I could not help feeling such sorrow for the sordid life that my son's drug addiction has drawn him into.

I watched B carry his sleeping bag and backpack into "C"s little house. His eyes looked sad. I could not cry. I don't know what to think, really. I think I'm still in shock.

"If I don't call for three days, you'll know I'm dead."

That's what my son said to me. How do you think that made me feel? At that very moment, I thought of God.

As I drove away, I heard B whistling and racing towards me. He said that "C" asked him to buy some cat food and could I give him a ride. I drove him to a grocery store and I bought a few things for "C". It's my "thank you" for... I'm not sure, you know. I bought a few things for B...drinks, canned soup. I gave him $20.00. He said "Mom, I miss you already. I know I'm going to regret my decision to leave".

As I walked into my front door, C was looking at me to see how I was doing. "I'm hungry" is all I could think. I had not eaten since early this morning.

How am I feeling right now? This might sound strange-- but I am feeling relieved. For the last two days, seeing my son so loaded on drugs, I feel as though my peaceful home had been violated. I don't want drugs in my house. My home is my sanctuary.

I walked into my son's room and looked at his crumpled bed...his shoes on the floor... throat lozenges and empty bottles of soda. I looked in his closet, at his clothes he left behind.

I am feeling an emotion similar to the day that my mother died. I remember when the hearse drove away and I had to walk into my mother's bedroom. The oxygen machine motor had been turned off. Her bedding was there, with her imprint still on it. I looked at her lipstick on her dresser. She was gone.

My son is gone.

I am beginning to grieve. C and I had such high hopes that B was going to start college, and get a part-time job. My son was so excited to be home, and that he was given a fresh start by us.

But, the heroin has won my son's soul, for now. The reality is, if my son does not admit to himself that he is powerless in his addiction to opioids, his life will always be unmanageable. He will remain jobless and possibly homeless. He will, ultimately, end up in jail, institutionalized or dead. It's what his treatment program drilled into him. He knows that. I know that.

Once again, my blog is how I am going to journal how my son is doing.

He plans to detox, on his own.

Heavenly Father, you brought my son into this world. You trusted me to raise my son, and to teach him about you. I have made my own mistakes, and I am sorry. I know that you have forgiven me for my sins. If anything, I believe that my son has accepted Jesus into his heart as his savior. My son is lost in his addiction. I give my son to you, Lord. I trust that You are watching over him. I pray that you will give me, his father, his stepfather and his friends and loved ones...the wisdom to help B according to your perfect will.

Thank you, God, for your mercy on my son. It is nothing short of your miracles, that my son is alive. Thank you, God, for all that you have done and what you will do.

In Jesus' Name

The vigil begins-- B has relapsed and he's a mess

My son is incoherently passed out in his room. He has swallowed a lot of his clonazepam and taken a bottle of his cough meds. He is sick with bronchitis and strep throat.

I found an 80mg Oxy in his wallet and crumpled black tar foil, a straw and a bottle of urine. That explains how he's passed his drug tests with us. He drank the entire bottle of cough syrup he was prescribed. It had codeine in it. Obviously, he did not tell the pharmacist.

He's been using for a month. His friend told me, because he's been using, too.

We have moved his car so that he cannot drive. Tonight. I sleep with one eye open. I am checking ihs breathing and pulse. He's okay, but totally out of it. When he does get up, he is completely incoherent. I went through his entire cellphone and called key people. It is confirmed, that he's been using.

I am in shock. It is so surreal. Obviously, he has to go into rehab.

I can't write anymore, for now.

Please, pray for us.

A Drug Addict's Mother's great fear...

I’m trying to function on very little sleep. The great fear that any parent has is that something terrible would happen to their child. Whether my son is a toddler, 20 years old, or a mature man—he will always be my precious child. I saw that, because B came home last night, and he looked terrible.

What I noticed is that he was talking a mile a minute. This is not a good thing, because that is how he acted when he was loaded. I noticed that his eyes were hooded— like he was about to fall asleep.

He’s sick with a really bad sore throat and his neck glands are swollen. But, what worried me is that he was dropping things… and that is reminiscent of my brief relationship with a man who turned out to be an alcoholic and drug addict. Like Voldemort, in Harry Potter, I don’t mention this man’s name much. He was a very brief drive-by marriage when my son was 10 years old. I shudder, every time I am reminded of that man’s hooded eyes, slurred speech and lack of coordination. I was too naïve to recognize that these are strong symptoms of substance abuse. That’s how B seemed to be. I told B that I was really worried about his “symptoms” and he offered to take a drug test.

My husband and I decided to ask for a drug test. But B said he just went to the bathroom and he needed to drink a glass of water. He muttered that he resented that we didn’t trust him. B went to sleep and so we decided to wait until today to drug test him. We figure that, if he’s using, what day we test would not matter.

I am deep in prayer than my fears are unfounded. Oh, how I pray that he is not using opiates again! If he is taking his suboxone (and not selling it), then he can’t use opiates. At least, that’s how suboxone is supposed to work.

But, drug addicts are sneaky and they are master manipulators. They do not hesitate to lie, when confronted with having to speak the truth.

And that’s how my short-lived, miserable re-marriage once was. This was before my son became addicted to drugs.

I will post how things go, as soon as I know.

Please, Lord, protect my son from the demon of addiction that wants to call my son’s name. I pray that B will only desire to resist the temptation of using drugs.

Amen.

The end of someone's life

Journey back to my blog entry on September 6, 2008. This is where I talk about my son's "falling out" with his room mate.

I received a phone call from my son, last night. He blurted to me that he just received a call from his former roommate's sister-- "A" had killed himself. It freaked me out, because my brother shares the same name as B's former roommate. It took, what felt like an eternity, to realize that B was talking not talking about his uncle. He was talking about his former friend/roommate, in Benicia.

I had a really hard time sleeping last night. All I could think of was the first time that I met “A”. My son had met “A” in the Sober Living Environment that he moved into at the end of April. “A” was an alcoholic. He had just finished his fourth stint at a treatment center (a different one from my son’s).

“A” was in his late 40’s. As far as B could tell, he didn’t have any friends. I thought it seemed a little peculiar that some his age would “cling” to my young son. I even asked “A” about that…he said that he wanted to help my son. “A” was lonely… and he succumbed to his addiction to alcohol. It was obvious to “B” that his roommate had started drinking again. “A” became angry, and had resorted to yelling at my son a few times. I stayed out of it, though.

The last time that B saw “A” was September 3rd. That was the day that “A” returned (after disappearing for a few days) and he literally through my son out of their apartment. We had to call the police to gain entry, so that B could get the last of his belongings.

B is devastated, to say the least. He feels that it’s his fault that “A” killed himself. I can imagine how my son might jump to that conclusion—but I doubt that his suicide happened 3 months ago. Otherwise, his apartment manager would have entered the place much sooner. All we know is that his body was discovered, at B’s former apartment, around Thanksgiving.

I didn’t know “A” as well as my son did. Still, I could only stare at my ceiling while trying to fall asleep. I prayed for “A”—for his family. I prayed that “A”, in the last moments of his life, cried out to God. I cannot imagine how someone can feel such hopelessness that they can actually take their own life.

“A”s death, is a very real and painful reminder to me that addiction—left untreated—can ultimately lead to death.

B’s car is finally fixed, from his car accident. It’s been quite a while. My son should be home today, to pick it up.

I’m praying for my son—that his car will not lead him (literally) into trouble.

It seems daunting, to me, the trials and tribulations that my son has endured. Beyond that, I've had my share of failed marriages, financial struggles and dealing with my father's physical abuse. All I can think is that God, sometimes, allows us to suffer our own consequences. Sometimes, God needs to bring us down to our knees…to humble us… and to realize that we need Him. I know that, personally. God brought me down to my knees, and humbled me, the day that B’s father walked out on our 17 year marriage. I was broke and had a young child to raise…I lost my house. God gave me the strength to keep moving forward...to not give up...He gave me hope and he restored my life. But, that’s another story…

Enough for today. My heart goes out to “A”s family he has left behind. Yes, I will go with my son to his memorial service, on December 20th.