I left my heart in San Francisco

B called me just a short while ago. I still haven't seen him since Sunday, October 12th. At that time, he looked bad. Anyway... he says that he met a woman in the treatment center and that she has offered for him to live at her place rent free. All he has to do is contribute towards groceries. That's all that I know, because his phone doesn't work right, and it keeps cutting off his calls.

He said, emphatically, that he "just can't stay here". That makes me sad, but he is right.

I asked him when this would happen and he said "tonight". Yikes. So, I offered for him to stay with me tonight. I'm making dinner, anyway. I told him that since it's his birthday tomorrow, we could do something and then I'd take him to San Francisco.

So, that's where we stand, at this time. His phone cut us off, so we shall see.

That's all that I know. For now.

A conversation in my head with my son

Son, I spend most of my day thinking of you and worrying about you. I can see right through your positive attitude with me, on the phone. When you tell me how good you feel, my motherly instinct can hear that you are trying to convince yourself.

My heart breaks for you, because I cannot see how you can feel any joy in your life. I wish that I could fix it for you, but I don't have that kind of power. The only temporary fix (and I can't afford it) is for me to buy your happiness-- for me to pay for a nice apartment, give you an allowance and to buy you a golf membership. That would cheer you right up. But, I can assure you, that your addiction doesn't care about those things.

What frustrates me is how irresponsible and undependable you have become. It upsets you if I was to point it out to you. You don't want to hear, let alone admit it.

Last night, I got an email from your roommate... remember that apartment that cost $700.00 of my mother's hard earned money (your dwindling trust fund). Yes, it's that place that you spent three whole nights at. That breaks my heart, son. What a waste of money and effort-- when I think about the time I've spent driving up there to pack and move you three times.

I can't tell, anymore, how much of your behavior is from the drugs or from .... what? I can't even come up with a word for it. I don't want to call you "lazy", but I don't see you making any kind of sincere effort to find a job. The few jobs you've gotten, you've lost. You've been fired, or "let go". I see you giving up, and lounging around at your dad's house.

I feel worn out, beaten down and wounded by your addiction. I feel emotionally drained, from all the worry about your future. I can hardly bear to talk about your situation with my brothers, my friends and even my husband. I feel so "talked out" about what I've been through.

I love you, son. You know that. But I feel worn out. I feel as though I have run out of options and that have to make a decision and stick to it.

There are some simple things I wish that you would take to heart. Here's one of them-- be honest. Don't make promises that you can't keep. Return phone calls. You have not contacted your roommate and tomorrow is your last day in that apartment. He contacted me, and he sounded desperate to hear from you.

Have the courtesy to be on time. Your father called me, last night. You were 2 hours later than you promised, in showing up at his house. I could hear the frustration in your dad's voice. What can I say?

When you don't return someone's phone calls and you don't show up on time for people-- you are telling them that you do not respect their time. That is not how I raised you to be.

Yesterday, you completely shut me down when I asked if your friend would help you move out of your apartment. I could tell that you just didn't want to "deal with it".

Son, you need to "deal" with life. Drugs aren't the answer. Life isn't easy, and God has never promised us that it would be. What God has promised us is that he will be right there, with you. He will give you strength, and wisdom, if you ask for it. But, you also need to talk to him and surrender your will to his perfect will.

No matter how smart we think we are, God knows best.

God humbled me the day that your father walked out on me, in 1996. My life, as I knew it, was stopped. What I thought was my financial security was whisked away from me. That is when I finally got on my knees and pleaded for God to help me get through this.

I wonder-- has God allowed your own choices to bring you to rock bottom? Where are you seeking your wisdom and guidance? As Dr. Phil says "how's it working out for you"?

Your life is in shambles, my precious boy. I can't give you anymore band-aids. You are smart, charming and you have good manners. You can get a job...maybe not the high paying job you have convinced yourself that you deserve. But, you need to stop relying on your parents to support you. We both work, and it's not right that you expect for us to hand you money for being on a long-term vacation.

I love you, son. I am praying that you will make good choices. I am not abandoning you. I just cannot enable the lifestyle you have gotten used to.

Love,

Mom

Waiting for the other shoe to drop

Wow. I don't even know what to think...what to say...what to hope for. I only have a few minutes, so here's the quick version:

B's dad called to tell me that he had heard from our son. I told him that I had, too. B's dad sounds distraught over issues that have nothing to do with out son. He said that B moving with him, to Oregon "was not an option". What can I say?

I feel pity for B's father. It's hard to believe that the man that I spent 17 years of my life with is such a stranger. He is going through some really tough times, and there is nothing I can do for him. 'Nuff said.

This morning, B called me just as I had parked at work. I was 5 minutes early. He sounded in good spirits. He told me that he was leaving the treatment center today. He said he "feels great" and he said he didn't really "use" all that much.

I asked where he would be today, and he didn't have an answer. He said "probably an SLE". He has no money, and he didn't ask me for any.

B's 20th birthday is this Saturday. I told him that I'd like to celebrate it with him. His voice seemed to brighten and he said that he wanted to play golf with me.

But, he said that he had to go and he hung up.

That's it, for now.

I'm on hold. I think of my son all day long. I have no idea what's next. I can only pray that it's all good.

-Mom

A ray of hope

My son just called me, from his cellphone. He said that he's decided to stay at his treatment center for one more day. He also wanted me to know that he's come up with a gameplan:

He believes that he should move to Oregon, where his dad plans to move in four weeks.

What a relief!

Those of us who love B (and there are many of us) have always felt that this is what he should do. But, wait...there's more.

Recently, I mentioned to B's dad, that he should take B with him to Oregon. B's dad has been living here and commuting to Oregon (where his wife lives) for about 7 years. Yes, it's "different". But, it is what it is. His dad's quick response was "that's not an option". I won't get into why his dad feels this way, because it is not for me to tell him what to do. All I can say is that I would hope he would realize that he has a chance to help my son to help himself.

I was relieved to hear B say that he realizes that he cannot come back to his hometown-- where I live. It's sad, but it's true.

I did not tell B that his father doesn't sound like he's willing to do this. Instead, I told him that I found how to order the drug tests, online. I told B that I would buy the drug tests (they're only about $5.00 a piece) and that he could use this as a negotiation with his dad.

I had spoken with B's dad, this morning, because I was concerned that my son was so quiet and I had not heard from him for three days. I can tell that B's father is wounded. So, am I. I do not wish my son's situation on my worst enemy. While I consider myself to be one of the luckier parents (we have insurance, so he can be admitted into an excellent treatment center), and my son has no arrest records...is not shooting drugs into his veins, is not living on the streets, is not a thief... but, he is still an addict. I also know that if my son does not want to get control of his addiction, he could end up in dire straits.

I do believe that B wants to stay clean. At least he knows that it is dangerous for him to return back to his home turf.

He also mentioned that he saw the man who runs the Sober Living Environment, just a few miles from his treatment center. B had moved in there last May but stayed for two months. That's where he met his roommate that did not work out (another story). He started to tell me that there's a room available but he jumped to another subject. So, I started to tell him some positive things, and then we were cut off. I am guessing that he had to hang up, since he's smuggled his cellphone with him-- which is kinda silly, since the treatment center has a phone that patients are allowed to use, freely. Or, it could be that his battery died.

I feel a little bit better-- hearing B admit that he has a problem, and that he cannot be where I live. Of course, that is followed with sorrow that he might move far away from me.

Still, I am feeling hopeful. I can only pray that his father will make it possible for B to move to Oregon with him.

God has been so merciful. I will wait, I will pray and I will seek God's will.

I love you, son, but "no"

These are words I need to put into practice. Tough love is a difficult thing to do. It makes sense, of course. You love the addict, but you need to disconnect from their manipulative ways. Enabling your addict/child is what every therapist tells you not to do. Yes, that makes sense.

However, it is much easier said than done. I love my son, very much. He knows that, too. I will go as far as saying that I don't think my son is consciously aware that he tries to manipulate me. He's intelligent, he's charming and he has a really warm and friendly smile. I've lost count at how many times, he's made my resolve melt.

This time, I have to be extra strong. As far as I know, B will be discharged from detox (tomorrow, Tuesday) and I am assuming that he is going to be living with his father.

I have also got to disconnect from B's dad. We have been divorced for 12 years. I'm happy that I have found peace in that, and that I do not harbor any hatred or bad feelings towards him. We are simply two very different people. We have both moved on in our lives, re-marrying different people. I am very happy in my marriage. I don't know what goes on in his, and it is none of my business.

I have tried, in vain, to educate B's father on addiction. I need to stop trying to do that. It is for B's father to make his own choices. I don't agree with them, but I will only make myself crazy if I continue to try and explain to B's dad that he is still very co-dependent with my son. He enables him. I know B's dad believes he is doing the right thing, and that he loves his son. I can see the pain and worry that B's father has. What B's dad cannot understand is that he is actually harming my son by enabling him. 'Nuff said.

B knows he can't come to live with me. I would only consider that if he has a job and he pays me rent-- and, he agrees to random drug testing. For those reasons, B cannot live with me.

I am expecting B to need something from me-- usually, it costs money.

I love you son, but the answer is "no".

I am standing by, knowing my phone will ring at anytime.

My 24-hour Rule, Peace Comes

I have what I call my "24-hour Rule". I have a short-fuse. I attribute that to my life as a kid-- being a victim of physical beatings from my father, and from watching or hearing my mother being smacked around by my dad. I had to suppress my anger at the helplessness of my situation. I could not defend myself against my father-- he was bigger, he had a black belt in karate and he scared me when he was mad. My mother (God rest her soul) was a very willful mom. In other words, she was very controlling. Both of my parents would fly off the handle, and I never knew what would come my way-- a slap, a fist, a belt, a wooden cooking spoon or the dreaded German "Rug Beater" made of reeds.

I have prefaced this explanation, because I believe that this is the root cause of my lack of patience and/or short-fuse. For most of my life, I had an anger management problem. Fortunately, I have been able to control these childhood afflictions about 98% of the time. I give the Glory to God for helping me to control my temper. One of my coping mechanisms, when I feel angry or frustrated, is to enforce my 24-Hour Rule. In other words, if I am feeling angry about something, it's best to leave me alone to sort through it. The next day, my anger has subsided and I can think a lot more rationally. In retrospect, I wish I had discovered this effective tool a long time ago.

Yesterday, I was had reached a boiling point of frustration with my son and his addiction. My blog, from yesterday, reflects how angry I felt. It felt very therapeutic for me to write down how I feel-- to journal my emotions, in the raw (so to speak). They were very real, but I also knew that within 24 hours, my anger would dissipate. That is what I mean by my 24-hour rule-- it means that "this, too, shall pass".

I do believe that there is a time for healthy anger-- I tend to think of Jesus when he got so angry at how the merchants in his Father's temple. Jesus was angry at how sacrificial animals had turned into a profit-making business. Our Lord was angry, for a good reason. To me, my anger (yesterday) was also for good reason. I was angry at Brian's addiction-- the lies, the denial and the betrayals that come with this terrible demon.

Today, I am feeling better. I needed to go to sleep early. I am thankful that the Lord gave me a good night's sleep. My job has been especially stressful and busy. It didn't help that I was watching the students at the high school, where I work. There were several hundred teens watching a student sponsored event. The kid were listening to their music and I realized that this is the same music my son listens to. I noticed a tall, thin teenage boy and I was struck by how much he resembled my son. The tears hit me, with such an unexpected force, that I almost had a meltdown. I had to find a private place to get through the pain I felt. Sometimes, I try too hard to be strong. It takes a lot to make me cry, and I don't like to do that in front of anyone. I think that I cry in private, because my mother was a pro at crying in front of people-- it was her way of trying to manipulate me with guilt.

I am a very strong person, most of the time. I wasn't always that way, though. I believe that I get my strength from my faith and trust in God. I could not have the kind of courage that I need to cope with what my son has been through-- his car jacking, his addiction, he diabetes and his inability to build basic life skills-- without calling on God's promise that he will never leave me nor forsake me. I still marvel at that miracles in answered prayers that God has blessed me with. Every single day, I give glory and thanks to God. My strength is His strength.

So, today, I am feeling a little better than I was yesterday. I just received a phone call from B. Our conversation was short, but maybe there is new hope. B said to me that he's been thinking about the Sober Living Environment home I found out about. It's run by a church, in my area. It's a one-year commitment. Yesterday, B wanted nothing to do with the idea. Today, he said he's considering that this program might just be the answer. Thank you, Jesus!

Of course, I don't know if space is available. If space is available, my son will have to convince the couple (who runs the program) that he is committed to working the program.

B and I talked about a few important matters. I am not ready to share what they were. Suffice it to say, I truly feel as though I am letting my son make his own decisions on what he's going to do. I am not meddling, at all. I haven't called my son-- he's been calling me.

I'm still feeling very tired and in desperate need of some quiet time just for me. When my phone rings, I just don't want to talk about my son. That is why I've started to blog again. It truly is easier for me to express how I am feeling, how I am doing and how B is doing right here.

I feel as though I am sharing this journey with my loved ones, and strangers would might be experiencing what I am. I am also finding therapy in writing how I feel. It's as though I can unload my pain, frustration and anger without lashing out at the people I love.

I have received a few private emails from a few of you. Please know, that your support is also very healing to me.

Thank you.

Uncontrollable Sense of Disgust. What happened to integrity?

This is the part where anger sets in. I am sitting at my desk, feeling completely frustrated and helpless.

B called me, this morning. He's smuggled in his cellphone-- and that already sets me off. How dishonest is this? He says that the treatment center wants to keep him 1-2 weeks. He wants just a few days. No matter what, the insurance runs out after 15 days. That's it!

He is in total denial of his problem. I told him that there are places that offer a free one year program. He balked at that, saying "one year!" "One year is too long a time".

Now me-- a non-addict mom, who thinks she's got a lot of common sense could only reply back to him, "one year is NOTHING, compared to the rest of your life to come".

What frustrates me, to no end, is how easily influenced B is. He believes the STUPID tales that his friends tell him. These are STUPID, burned-out, irresponsible drug addicts! One of his STUPID friends told him that the year he spent in rehab, at a Christian-based program, was the "hardest year of his life". Well no kidding, Sherlock! This "Friend" of his is still on subutex...after one year! Hello? To me, B's sobriety begins when he doesn't need pills to help him not use opiates. Am I missing something, here?

Both this guy and my son are opiate addicts. Hello? Opiates is not kid's play. It's poison. It's evil. It gets into their brains, and it robs them of every thing that that they have. His addiction has turned my son into a devious liar-- one who oozes sweetness and charm.

B still thinks that, after a few days, the poison will be out of his body and he'll be just fine. He's an idiot, for thinking that. I have no doubt that my son needs ONE FULL YEAR, living in a place, where former addicts-- who are clean and sober, and who are committed to the 12-steps-- will set rules and the kind of structure and stability that B needs.

These programs, as far as I have found, are all Christian-Based. My son is a "believer", but he's not a follower. He really wants to have a relationship with God, but on my son's terms. B has allowed his addiction to lie and deceive him-- and that is what the Prince of Darkness is all about.

Yes, I'm really angry right now. I'm angry at B's addiction. I'm angry at being lied to. I think what I am most frustrated with is my son's lack of integrity. I have such a mixture of emotions-- anger, disgust, frustration, disappointment and distaste...for how easily he lies about EVERYTHING!

I work at a high school, for crying out loud. I've had students lie to me. But, I am his mom, and I am someone who loves him and is trying to help him. I cannot believe that this precious baby boy-- the child that I desperately wanted-- can look right at me and LIE. He has manipulated my love for him, but it's getting really old. I've had to resort to calling his dad, or his best friend, to get the TRUTH. What I get are different stories... then my own son gets mad at ME for calling and telling on him.

I'm telling you-- addiction is so evil and dirty. Addicts will LIE. Sadly, the addiction lies to them. DENIAL is what my son is in, right now. Frankly, I feel like he expects his parents to "fix him" and to take care of him.

At this point, I'm so far removed from this third bout of him trying to come clean. He will never be clean if he continues this stupid illusion that he can do this on his own. He wants to call the shots-- he wants his own apartment, his stupid X-Box, his car. He wants all the material things, and his friends, and girls, and golf-- he cannot see that there is a 2000 pound gorilla named "addiction" in the room with him. It's right there, and all of us can see it. It will take him down-- and ultimately ruin the rest of his life-- possibly robbing him of his life, prematurely.

Yes, I'm angry. I had to get this out. I'm tired, I'm stressed, and I'm so through with my son being the "victim".

That's where I'm at with Brian, and I am heart-broken. I'm angry, and this is all part of the painful process. I am grieving for my beautiful boy that I once knew.

My God is an Awesome God

B called me right before my lunch break. He sounded depressed and said that he was not feeling well. He was out of subutex and said he was "feigning" to use heroin. For the first time, I began to feel panic. That's what addiction does to those who love the addict-- it tears us to pieces. B said that there still wasn't a bed available for him.

I took my lunch break a few minutes early, and I called his treatment center. On the first ring, the man I knew answered the phone. A bed had just become available! He said he'd call me within an hour if they could take B in for detox. The call came, and he was "in".

I got a call at 4:15pm that his friend had dropped B off at the treatment center. What a relief! I was told he'll be there for 5-7 days. The goal is to get B's poison out of his system and to wean him off subutex, completely.

I am very proud that B made the decision to go in, and that he checked himself in. I told him that I was not going to visit him, on Sunday, unless he wanted me to. He responded that he didn't think that would be necessary. I also told him I was not going to call him. If he wanted to talk to me, he knew how to get hold of me.

The rest of the day, I could only thank Jesus over and over again. I still marvel at God's grace and mercy on me, and on B. I am so thankful that he is getting the help that he needs. He'll be immersed into the 12-steps again, going to group and individual counseling.

I pray that, this time, B will have his system cleaned out and that he will serious and that he will take the fragile state of his sobriety with a lot more care.

One day at a time...

The Waiting Game...

I don't have anything HUGE to report. B called his treatment center and there are no beds available. So, he is waiting for an opening. There aren't many other options here, at home. Once place offers outpatient treatment only. He could check himself into a hospital for detox-- fortunately B isn't nearly in as bad of shape as he was six months ago. So, it is possible they would not admit him.

So, the waiting game begins. Hopefully, a bed will become available for my son.

Until then, I am guess that he's buying Subutex from his friends, to keep him from going into withdrawals.

I can feel my back & shoulder muscles tightening up into "stress knots". I am trying not to worry, because it's futile. It is what it is, and the best course of action is for me to pray that God will show B the way.

B is leaving at his father's house. It's better this way. No matter what, I cannot stand seeing my son laying around and doing nothing. It goes against everything that my mother taught me. Nor, can I afford to be nickel and dimed to death.

While I want to believe my son, I have an instinct that he hasn't quite told me all of the truth. That's what addicts to best. They lie. They are highly convincing, but they lie. It's just part of the whole addiction process.

I do know this-- my son loves me, and I'm secure in that. He knows that I'm not stupid, though. So, that's why he hasn't ask to live with me.

So, I wait.

A son's confessions to his mom

B showed up, with his father, at my house around 8:00pm. I could see that B’s eyes had resumed that hooded look. It’s like his addiction had sucked the sparkle right out of my son’s life again.

B asked me to go outside, while he lit up a cigarette. It was déjà vu to last April, where he started to cry. I knew, with a maternal instinct, that this was not an act. He is deeply remorseful and ashamed. This is what he told me:

He said that his father left for Oregon the same time I left for Hawaii. B’s car is still in the shop, so he has no transportation. Boredom set in—and he reminded me that this is a very vulnerable position for addicts to be in. He says that he was invited to go to a party (…said the serpent) and he ran into someone from his drug past. This person offered B some “black” (heroin) to smoke. B says that he didn’t feel much and then went home. He says that the next day he called this “Messenger of Satan” who was happy to come over and “front” more drugs to B. The two of them smoked three times that day and then the following. So, B says that for three days he smoked heroin and that the high was back just like before.

This is exactly what B’s treatment center educated my husband and me about. We were told that should B relapse, that his brain would immediately pick up where he left off. So, B realized he had messed up and he bought some subutex from a friend.

As a mom, all of this felt a bit surreal. I can honestly say that I am not emotionally devastated. I guess that B’s treatment center prepared me for the inevitable—I knew that B only had a 3% odds of staying sober. My feelings weren’t of anger—as a mom, my only thoughts are to get B in for help as soon as humanly possible.

B wanted to wait until this Friday to go in for detox. It didn’t take much for him to agree with my plea for him to go first thing today (Monday). He agreed to do so, and then he broke down into more sobs. I can tell you, that the guttural sobs from someone who is going through withdrawal is enough to tear your heart out. My husband—who is THE most wonderful and compassionate person—came outside. B looked at him, and told him he was ashamed and sorry. My husband was 110% compassionate and supportive.

B and I talked about options. I won’t write anything, further, because I need to trust that God has prepared the way for him to go. As soon as I know, I will update my blog.

I do know this—my son admits that he was not working the program. He admitted that he thought he could so this on his own. The 12-Step program works, if you work it. You need a sponsor. He’s seen other friends clean up their lives without working the 12-Steps…however, each addict has their own story. My son is addicted to opiates. He says that oxy-contin is no longer his drug of choice. It’s heroin. It’s cheaper, and easier to get.

Be afraid, parents. Be very afraid.

Heavenly Father—your power and your glory is far greater than Satan. I pray that you have my son in your precious hands. Please, fill my son with your presence so that he breaks free of the Dark One’s lies. He is deceptive. He is evil. He wants my son. Only you, Abba Father, can make the devil flee.

Just when you think it's over... it isn't.

Drug addiction is a demon that doesn't want to let go. I knew that, but I had hoped that my son had been set free. I see that now, because I hardly blogged for the last two months. My son seemed to be his old self, and nothing could convince me that he was using again. So, I thought my life had gone back to normal...

As of this morning, B still has not told me that he's been "chipping". It was his father who told me, and asked me to not say anything. He wanted B to be the one to tell me. I called my son, yesterday, and I told him that I was available to meet and talk. B sounded evasive-- and that's when my fears were reignited. Evasiveness is a part of addiction. He was off to "hang out" with some friends-- and that's another pattern of my son's addiction. As a mom, all I could wonder to myself was "who are these friends?" Now that my son is almost 20 years old, he is living his own life. I can only pray that these "friends" are not drug users themselves...

Here is what I was told about B's present situation, by his father:

B told his dad that a couple of months ago he was at a party (not a smart place for a drug addict, fresh in recovery, to be at). He said that he was "offered" some heroin to smoke, and he wanted to see what would happen. My visual is that Satan offered my son something that looked too tempting for my son to resist-- and my son took the bait, again.

Evidently, that explains my son's visits back to Salinas about once a week. He'd return to buy more of that trash and smoke it in his new hometown. "Chipping" is a term that I've become familiar with from former drug addicts. It's when an addict uses their "drug of choice" and supplements not being able to get it by taking the drug "subutex". So, I would venture to guess that my son did not appear to be "using", because his addiction to opiates isn't full-blown.

"How am I doing", I'm being asked by my loved ones. My first thoughts, when B's father told me this, was a sense of physical shock. Truthfully, I knew that my son's odds of relapsing were higher than I'd like. From what I've read, B had a 3% chance of a successful recovery. I was deeply concerned that B was not working the program-- he had "fired" his sponsor, citing that he felt that his sponsor wasn't easy to talk to. In retrospect, I think that B's sponsor was calling my son on not working the program, and B did what he does best when he feels pressure-- he bails out. I did not think it was a good idea for B to return to his home roots, knowing how easy it would be for him to reconnect with the network of drug addicts he knew.

My worst fears have come true. So, what now?

I continue to praise God's grace and mercy on my son. For what it's worth, I am thankful that B has not been arrested, nor ended up in an emergency room-- or worse, in a morgue. It's a bittersweet set of blessings, but it's all that I have to hang on to.

I am thankful that my son admitted his problem to his father. What prompted his confessions is still unknown to me, at this time.

B has health insurance, and he needs to make the phone call himself. He needs to own up to his addiction, and to check himself in. I will tap into his trust account-- that is rapidly dwindling down to nothing-- for him to transition from the detox center into a Sober Living Environment. My regret is that I was willing to believe my son's promises that he could handle his sobriety without a Sober Living Environment. It breaks my heart to think of my mother's hard earned money being wasted on roommates that did not work out for my son. So, this time, I will not help B to live anywhere else but in an "SLE". He cannot live with me, either.

But, it's done and I can't dwell on that. As his mom, I continue to pray for him with fervor. I love him, and that's obvious to those who know what my son means to me. I am deeply disappointed that addiction has come into my family, and that the goals and dreams I had for my son have been stolen.

B has not called me since late yesterday morning. He promised to do that, but never did. That's another side-effect of addiction-- B becomes very flaky. I have decided that I need to let my son make the first move to ask for my help. He has my support and love, without needing to ask for it.

Once again, I am left feeling betrayed by B's addictioin. Obviously, my son has been lying to me and I believed him 110%. That's what the demon of addiction does-- Satan is the master of lies and deceit.

I have company staying with us for several more days. I had planned an Oktoberfest party for today-- a tradition in my family, to celebrate my mom's life. B's "Oma" passed away in October 2003 and she was very proud of her Bavarian heritage. I've lost my festive mood, though, so I've downscaled the party to be a small dinner. My heart isn't into celebrating much, today.

I'm okay, for the most part. My strength comes from my faith and trust in the Lord. I know that the power of Christ is far greater than Satan's. So, I hold on to trusting that God will use this evil for good. I pray that my son's relapse will remind B that he needs to take his addiction very seriously-- and that he needs to work the program. He needs to find a sponsor and he needs to attend meetings on a regular basis.

He also needs to know that trying heroin to see what happens is probably what Eve did when she bit into the apple in the Garden of Eden. For the rest of his life, he cannot "try" any kind of drug. Period. Otherwise he will spiral into his addiction-- potentially losing his life to it.

Thank you, Lord, for the strength and blessings you have given us through this ordeal.

Here we go...again

I just returned from a week's vacation in Kauai, with my husband. A few days ago, I had a nightmare... my son had snuck into my house and was sleeping in the bathtub. I looked at him, and asked if he was using drugs again. "Yes" he said, laughing hysterically.

I just found out that my son is smoking heroin again. His father told me. B wants to go into detox again.

That's all I can write for now. I have so much to digest and absorb...B hasn't told me yet. I am waiting for the phone to ring.

The addiction demon is back. Please pray for him.