Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Cautious Hope

My name is Debby and my son is a drug addict. Today, I'm feeling cautiously hopeful.

My son found an apartment and he paid the deposit, so it's a go! He moves in on September 5th.
I'm relieved that the apartment is located right across the street from his job and within walking distance of potential better paying jobs-- one day.

Why am I feeling cautiously hopeful? I'm glad you asked. It's because his roommate is also a drug addict and an alcoholic. "M" is one year older than my son, and they used to use together. Isn't that wonderful?

From what my son says, M's family "hates" my son. I take into account that the word "hate" is common from teens. M's family attends the same church that I do, and I know M fairly well. He's been in jail for "making terrorist threats" (something do with jealousy and a girl). To the best of my knowledge, M hasn't been arrested for drug related charges.

M left our area for one year, after the end of a big drama over his girlfriend of several years. I never knew the details and my son is mum about it. M returned early this year and has been sleeping on his mom's couch ever since. M has a good paying job, for this area, and he works six days a week. His schedule is the opposite of my son's.

Tomorrow, I'll share more on that. For now, I'm looking forward to bringing peace back into my home and my marriage. B brings so much drama into our home, that I sometimes have to retreat into my room for quiet. Am I getting old?

B says I've been really grumpy with him, over the last few days. I didn't think I was, but I think we need to clear the air and have a long talk. I will do that tomorrow night, when my husband is away. I don't want to be grumpy. Part of my problem is that I'm battling with my health, trying to stabilize my thyroids and one of the side effects is extreme fatigue and hot flashes. Fun, huh?

My prayer for my son today:
Father, I pray that B's new place to live is part of your plan. Please empower me with Godly wisdom on how to be a good mom. Help me, father, with my lack of patience and the toll that the stress of this has taken on my health. I'm physically drained. I pray that you will give my son and me a chance to talk-- openly and honestly. Please heal our wounds from the lack of trust his addiction has caused us. I pray that my son will take that brave step, and admit to you and himself that he needs help.

To those of you who are reading my blog:
Please read the comments that have been left over the last two days. Many come from "anonymous" and I wish I could contact you. I will respond to these when I have more quiet time.

Thank you for leaving comments. I appreciate your candor and I am thinking and praying for families of addicts.


Tuesday, August 25, 2009

A new direction

My name is Debby and my son is a drug addict. If you are new to my blog, my son is struggling to find sobriety from an addiction to smoking heroin.

Since April 2008, I am trying to figure out what my role is as a mother to a drug addict son who will turn 21 years old in November.

As my header says, I first began this blog as a way of sharing my son's progress while he was in detox/rehab 16 months ago. I thought this would be a less emotional way for me to keep in touch with my family and friends. They could read how my son is doing

I also wanted my blog to be my journal, knowing that when I made my blog "public" I was opening up my raw and honest feelings to total strangers. For months, I felt as though nobody was really reading my blog, except for my brothers and a few close friends. I am amazed at the comment activity that I am receiving, as of late.

I am so appreciative to hear from so many folks who share my feelings about how attending Al-Anon (or other support groups) do/don't help them. If you haven't read that posting, it's dated August 24th. I hope that you will add your own comments to that, because I think this is an important issue to share with others.

How is my son today?

He is quiet and not interacting very much with me. Last night, I told my son that his stepfather was leaving on a camping trip for a few days.

B responded, "Good. Maybe you and I can have a good talk before I leave."

"Yes, we certainly can and I think we need to", I responded.

I have been a little reserved with B since I found those disgusting heroin foils in his room. I haven't been cold, but I can feel myself putting up a protective wall around me. I haven't talked about how I feeling, to B, because I'm figuring he'll just have excuses.

"Excuses are just lies with a thin skin on them", I recently heard. I agree with that.

A prayer for my son this morning:
Dear Father,
I pray for my son, this morning, that he would see your perfect light. My son is stuck in the thickets of evil and darkness. I pray that you would show my son that you are waiting for him, with your loving arms wide open. I pray that B will reach out and take your hands and come to you.
I pray for a miracle to come to my son, today.
Thank you Father for your love and your mercy.
In Jesus Name.
I work at a public high school and I am privy to a lot of student's confidential information. I cannot tell you how many kids are in my prayers, every single morning.

This afternoon, I was asked to call in a student to meet with a drug counselor that a parent has hired to do an intervention.

As I waited for the student, I told the woman (and I knew of her) that I wish she could help my son.

"Would you like me to talk to your son?" she asked.

My eyes welled with tears and I could feel my throat constrict (this happens when I am feeling emotional).

"I'm really good with kids. I have a gift of getting them to open up to me", she said, emphatically.

I remembered a parent telling me how fantastic this woman was in getting his own son to open up to her.

"What do you charge, I asked?"

$60.00 an hour. (I can do this, I realized)

"Yes, I would love that", I said and I had to bite back from crying at my desk.

She is going to call me. On Thursday night, I am going to tell my son I'm taking him to his favorite restaurant in the same city where her office is located.

I will take my son there, and walk around for an hour. I have no expectations about the outcome of that meeting. I only have hope.

Then, I will drive my son to the ocean, just a few minutes away.

Then, we will talk about the 5000 pound elephant.

My prayer to God right now:

Father, thank you for answering my prayers for a miracle. I pray that you will use "K" to be your voice. I pray that you will bless that one hour of time, and that my son will feel safe and that he will open up to her.

I pray for my son to see your light and that he will find strength, through You, to turn his ways from the evil that is holding him in bondage.



Monday, August 24, 2009

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.

Sunday, August 23, 2009

Coming to grips with addiction

Good afternoon and thank you, one and all, for your public comments and your private emails.

I am leaving for town very shortly, but I wanted to update all of you with how I am doing--

After three weeks of absence, I went to church and it was a fantastic message. The message was titled "When Prayers Aren't Answered...". I need to revisit my notes and gather my thoughts.

I want to say this-- I think God is answering prayers for my son! So far, my son has not been arrested, overdosed and he is still alive.

God made it possible for us to put him into a rehab for 30 days that would have cost $36,000. Fortunately, my husband's insurance paid 90% of it. Praise God!

My son called me yesterday, to check in with me. He was in the Bay Area and he was excited that they were headed to San Francisco.

"What's wrong, mom?" he asked.

"I'm just tired and full of thoughts", I reply too quickly.

He chats to me in a good mood and then he pauses...

"Mom, you're acting weird. What's up?"

So, I tell him what we found in his room. He makes excuses that it's old stuff and he's clean.

I tell him I'm sad and I love him.

He tells me he loves me.

We hang up and I say a quiet prayer to God, telling Him I trust he is watching over my son.

An hour later my son calls. His friend's car broke down and they are being towed 98 miles south to where we live.

Did God answer a prayer?

I think so.

More to come later...

Overall, I'm handling things better than expected. This morning, in church, I visualized handing my grown son over to God. I raised him the best that I could.

It's all in God's hands. I truly believe that, with all of my heart.

I love my son. That will never stop.

I want to make this blog my ministry and support to others. I thank those of you who read my blog and share your thoughts and encouragement.

THIS is the best support I could ask for. I've tried meetings, but for many reasons, it didn' t help.

YOU, my readers help me most.

Thank you, thank you.

Saturday, August 22, 2009

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.
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!

Monday, August 17, 2009

A Mother's Fear and "if only I had..."

The past two weeks have been a bit out of control. My job becomes a total stress fest with back to school registration. To make matters worse, we had commitments on the weekend.
That meant (God forbid) I could not be the usual "June Cleaver" mom who bakes and cooks scratch cooking for her family. Instead, I found myself picking up "bake it yourself" pizzas, foraging in the freezer for whatever I was smart enough to prepare and freeze for the nights I came home dragging my knuckles.

The dust has settled at my job, but my fear factor is still there. That is-- fear for my son.
How is B? Well, that's a million dollar question. I can't tell when he's using, most times. Sometimes, his eyes seem heavy and his mouth is dry and he won't stop talking. That's when I know he used heroin and he's coming down-- or so, that's what B says. It's been ten days since I noticed it, and he admitted he used.

Otherwise, my son has openly admitted that if he puffs "a hit of weed", he can sleep and it keeps him from using heroin.

I can already here the groans. I don't condone pot smoking! Living in California, it's legal and not too hard to get a card that allows you to buy weed at clinics. I think my son is still finding bandaids to try and stay sober.

Just last week, my son was lamenting, "if only I had an X-Box" and how it would keep his mind busy and entertained.

I reminded him that he's own three of them, and sold them all to buy drugs.

"If only I could just go to college..."

I reminded we tried that THREE times and he never finished.

"If only..."

There are times when I just want to cry and my heart aches in a way that parents of non-addicts cannot understand. Like this Friday, when I arrived home from a hellacious day at work. My son was in a great mood (he wasn't loaded, either), folding his laundry. He had tidied up around the house. The three of us sat down to dinner (which my husband and B helped to make-- BBQ burgers). We felt like a normal family, having a normal conversation about things in general.
B cleaned up the kitchen, without being asked. Later, the two of us sat in the living room and talked about pleasant things. We watched a little television together.

That's when my heart aches,, PRAYING, for a miracle. My son still knows and accepts that he has to move out at the end of the month.

That, my friends and family, rips terror into my heart. My son does not earn enough money to live on his own. My son does not have survival skills. At least, knowing that he's at home, where I know he's safe and sound I feel some comfort. Sadly, many parents of addicts say that knowing their loved one is incarcerated gives them a sense of knowing they are safe. Isn't that sad?

I wish I could complain about the typical things that 20 year old kids do-- like forgetting to lock a door, or finding dishes in the bedroom when they know eating in their bedroom isn't allowed. I wish I could just worry about mundane things, rather than worrying how my son is going to make it on his own. IF he finds a room to rent, that will leave him less than $300.00 a month to eat and pay utilities and everything else.

My husband and I are doing okay, in our marriage. At times, I just can't talk about my son and his addiction. If I do, any slight feelings of joy vanish in a nano-second. My fear factor creeps up and I just want to cry.

In the last eight months, my son has caused me so much worry and pain. His lies... finding the drug paraphanalia and all the drama that comes with addiction-- the debt, and my inability to believe anything he says. Then, there are days when my son opens up to me. He tells me things that I know are true, but they are painful to listen to. He tells me the "war stories" about drugs. It pains me to no end. I have photos of my son, hanging in various places in our house. I look at them, and wonder why my son took a different path down an evil and dark road. I pray every single day, that God would free my son of the bondage of addiction. Then again, my son isn't really trying to receive God's wisdom. B won't go to church. I can only hope that my son is praying. But, is my son listening or receiving God's answers?

I doubt it. There are days when my son blames me, or other circumstances as to why he's in debt or why he hardly has any friends. I can't begin to tell you how much that hurts me. It makes me sad to think of ANYONE yelling at my son, or parents not wanting my son anywhere near their kids. I know that it hurts my son's feelings. He tells me, so.

I can tell that B is feeling very scared about having to move out. I know that that cookie cutter answer is that my son needs to find BOTTOM and that he should be in a one year program.
I wish it was that easy! What will it takek for my son to reach bottom? Incarceration? I don't wish that on anyone. A dear friend is living that hell with her own son, and I canNOT imagine what it must be like. I don't want to know.

No matter what anyone says to me-- there are times when I want to yell "shut up and mind your own business" when they cooly and calmly say he needs to move out. That's easy for them to say! This is my son they are talking about?

I try to remind myself, and I pray to God, that my son moving out is all part of God's plan. I pray that good will come from this. I pray that my son will find a perfect place to live, that he can afford. I pray that B will learn how to manage his life.

...and then, I realize that my son has NO concept on how to manage money. He spends it as soon as he gets it. Worse, he borrows money from friends-- always paying it back-- but then he has to borrow more because he's living beyond his means.

It's a viscious cycle.

That's aall I have to say, because I need to get back to my desk.

No time to proof read again. I'm just typing and hitting SEND.

How am I? Dreading the end of the month, loving my son and praying that I will have the strength and courage to watch my son leave.

I will grieve for him. I already am.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Vivitraol Clarified Question

Thanks for the links on vivitrol.... I should have asked if anyone has PERSONAL knowledge of this drug. Did/does it work for you or someone you personally know?


Monday, August 10, 2009

What is vivitrol?

I am totally exhausted from the hectic pace at my job. It's just that time of year when I feeling like I'm in combat on the front lines at my high school. Yes, it's back to school time and jobs have been cut. Still, we must carry the work load with less people to pitch in.

My son is moving out at the end of this month. We are talking, and there is much to say, but there is no strength left in me to do this-- until the weekend.

My son wants to get a vivitrol shot. He thinks this will help him to stop using...

Does anyone know much about this? I would appreciate any feedback.

I will try and write later in the week. For now, I'm off to bed.

Thank you for your comments. I mean it, from the depths of my heart.

Thank you, Kim, for your kind email.

Thank you MH for sending me "The Lord's Prayer" and for your loving and encouraging thoughts.

Thank you Huzzy and CB for being my dear friends. I love you dearly.

Thank you, husband, for your love and your support. You mean the world to me.

Thank you, God, for your grace and your mercy and for protecting my son.

Thank you, God, for blessing me with my son. I will not give up on him. I love him with all of my heart.

I love you all.


Thursday, August 6, 2009

The Lord's Prayer from two points of view

I am buried at work for all of this week. I received this in my email from a special friend and I want to share this with others. I will print this for my son, because I found it both amusing and quite thought-provoking. I hope it touches someone's heart:


Rather cleverly done. This is in two parts:
the prayer (in blue type) and GOD (in red type) response.
It is very, very good.


Our Father Who Art In Heaven.
Don't interrupt me. I'm praying.
But -- you called ME!
Called you?
No, I didn't call you. I'm praying.

Our Father who art in Heaven.
There -- you did it again!
Did what?
Called ME.
You said, "Our Father who art in Heaven"
Well, here I am. What's on your mind?

But I didn't mean anything by it.
I was, you know, just saying my prayers for the day.
I always say the Lord's Prayer.
It makes me feel good, kind of like fulfilling a duty.

Well, all right. Go on.

Okay, Hallowed be thy name .

Hold it right there. What do you mean by that?

By what?

By "Hallowed be thy name"?

It means, it means . . good grief, I don't know what it means.
How in the world should I know? It's just a part of the prayer.
By the way, what does it mean?


It means honored, holy, wonderful.

Hey, that makes sense. I never thought about what 'hallowed' meant before.
Thanks. Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven

Do you really mean that?

Sure, why not?

What are you doing about it?

Doing? Why, nothing, I guess.

I just think it would be kind of neat if you got control
of everything down here like you have up there.

We're kinda in a mess down here you know.

Yes, I know; but, have I got control of you?

Well, I go to church.

That isn't what I asked you. What about your bad temper?
You've really got a problem there, you know.
And then there's the way you spend your money -- all on yourself.
And what about the kind of books you read?

Now hold on just a minute! Stop picking on me!
I'm just as good as some of the rest of those people at church!

Excuse ME. I thought you were praying for my will to be done.
If that is to happen, it will have to start with the ones
who are praying for it. Like you -- for example.

Oh, all right. I guess I do have some hang-ups.
Now that you mention it, I could probably name some others.

So could I.

I haven't thought about it very much until now, but I really would like

to cut out some of those things. I would like to, you know, be really free.

Good. Now we're getting somewhere.

We'll work together -- You and ME. I'm proud of You.

Look, Lord, if you don't mind, I need to finish up here.
This is taking a lot longer than it usually does.
Give us this day, our daily bread.

You need to cut out the bread. You're overweight as it is.

Hey, wait a minute! What is this? Here I was doing my religious duty,
and all of a sudden you break in and remind me of all my hang-ups.

Praying is a dangerous thing. You just might get what you ask for.
Remember, you called ME -- and here I am.
It's too late to stop now. Keep praying. ( . . pause . . )
Well, go on.

I'm scared to.

Scared? Of what?

I know what you'll say.

Try ME.

Forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us.

What about Ann?

See? I knew it! I knew you would bring her up!
Why, Lord, she's told lies about me, spread stories.
She never paid back the money she owes me.

I've sworn to get even with her!

But -- your prayer -- What about your prayer?

I didn't -- mean it.

Well, at least you're honest. But, it's quite a load carrying around

all that bitterness and resentment isn't it?

Yes, but I'll feel better as soon as I get even with her.
Boy, have I got some plans for her. She'll wish she had never been born.

No, you won't feel any better. You'll feel worse.
Revenge isn't sweet. You know how unhappy you are --
Well, I can change that.

You can? How?

Forgive Ann. Then, I'll forgive you; and the hate and the sin,

will be Ann's problem -- not yours.
You will have settled the problem as far as you are concerned.

Oh, you know, you're right. You always are.
And more than I want revenge, I want to be right with You . . (sigh).
All right , all right . . I forgive her.

There now! Wonderful! How do you feel?

Hmmmm. Well, not bad.
Not bad at all! In fact, I feel pretty great!
You know, I don't think I'll go to bed uptight tonight.
I haven't been getting much rest, you know.

Yeah, I know.
But, you're not through with your prayer are you? Go on.

Oh, all right.
And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.

Good! Good! I'll do that. Just don't put yourself in a place
where you can be tempted.

What do you mean by that?

You know what I mean.

Yeah. I know.

Okay. Go ahead. Finish your prayer.

For Thine is the kingdom, and the power,
and the glory forever. Amen.

Do you know what would bring me glory --
What would really make me happy?

No, but I'd like to know. I want to please you now.
I've really made a mess of things. I want to truly follow you.
I can see now how great that would be.
So, tell me . . . How do I make you happy?

You just did.

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Reality sets in...

I want to thank Madison, Barbara and Dad & Mom for your comments. I might not write back to you, but that does not mean that I don't consider your advice or receive your love.

Thank you.

I don't have time to sit and write with a lot of thought and flow, today. I just finished my lunch break, an I have about 10 minutes left until I return back to the craziness at work.

B rode the city bus from his job to where his doctor's office is located-- about an hour ride. This is a first, since he has his own car. The problem is, the car is in the shop so he is relying on rides to get around. I picked him up after work. I enjoy our times in the car. It means that B is my captive audience. I've noticed that threse times have turned into golden opportunities to talk.

B said there was a guy withdrawing in the lobby at the doctor's office. B commented at how messed up this guy was, and then he remarked he remembers how bad his own detox was a year ago, April.

Good. I hope that God planned this out, so that my son can be reminded of just how far he has come. He's still an addict, and he always will be. Sadly, he's not clean and sober.

We stopped at the pharmacy to get his precription of suboxone filled and all of his insulin and diabetes supplies. Thank God for insurance, because the co-pay for suboxone is $40.00 for a 30-day supply (2 a day). On the way home from the pharmacy, my son exclaimed that he didn't know what he was going to do when he has to move out. He worries that he only makes $200.00 a week, after taxes. Given that the average room rental, or apartment share is $450.00 a month, he is realizing that he cannot afford the $396.00 a month to pay his health insurance-- let alone the co-pays that total about $100.00 for all of his meds.

Reality is beginning to sink in....

I have to say that it breaks my heart to no end. I keep seeing my son as that ten year old boy, in his camouflage pants and shirt...running around the fields where we live with his friend "R"... playing all kinds of boy games. I see that precious boy who was my greatest blessing in life-- making me a mother and I can only remember fond memories of watching my son grow. I still cannot believe that precious and innocent boy is now a drug addict, who struggles with opiate addiction.

I still can't fully believe this has happened.

I am so afraid for my son. Making the "right" decision comes and goes, with my way of thinking. I have a genuine fear of my son resorting to drastic measures to survive. Will he resort to dealing drugs? Will he be arrested? My son is a diabetic and stress can make his blood sugars soar through the roof. I wonder if he will be able to find a place to live. My son smokes, so that narrows down how many people will rent to him. Granted, he never smokes in our home, but he still smokes-- and his clothes smell like it.

In a perfect world, my son should pursue getting into a one-year program. But, the funds don't exist. His insurance will only pay for about 2 weeks-- maximum. Sadly, the last time my son went into detox, he met three drug addicts who smuggled the drugs into the center. So, there is not guarantee that this is the answer.

What is the answer? I don't know. I can only pray that my son will have a reality check when he's out of our house. I can only pray, fervently, that God will continue to watch over my son. I pray that my son will find a place to live where he's safe. I don't care if the place isn't a luxury resort-- it wouldn't hurt for my son to live a life without any kind of perks and luxuries.

Still, it breaks my heart.

How am I? I have my moments when I'm too busy at work to think of anything else. It's at times when my son is watching television with me, at night, and he is "normal" that I second guess what I should do.

My son is not a criminal. He is not using every day, and even then it's just "a little bit". It makes this so hard for me. If he was a thief, or an a--hole, it would be a slam dunk decision to throw him out. My son is a loving son, who is afraid and he cannot cope with life's ups and downs without needing some sort of medication.

My son needs to find peace, strength and joy from God. Right now, he has evil chaining him down from escaping addiction.

My lunch is over. I just wanted to unload my thoughts.

Thank you for listening. If there are typos or grammatical errors, it's because I have no time to edit or proof-read.

Signing off,

Sad Mom who loves her son more than anything else in this world.

Sunday, August 2, 2009

30 Days - and a long story

NOTE: I know that this posting is long, and if you read all of it, thank you. I've added an update at the bottom of my prayer.

I made my decision about my son. I've finally reached the point that I can't take the "Crazy Cycle" anymore.

My son is chipping. He's admitted it, and I've admitted defeat.

I am feeling queasy in my stomach and this whole thing feels so surreal.

But, there isn't all bad news:

Yesterday, I received the final payment for restitution from a crime that was committed to my son when he was a minor. February 2006, my son was carjacked. We were awarded $7000.00 in restitution from the 18 year old who was involved in the crime of yanking my son out of his truck, kicking him in the head and stealing the car. It was found, abandoned, in a muddy field and stripped of his expensive stereo, expensive golf clubs and cellphone. The 18 year old was sentenced to one year in county jail, but served 10 months.

Legally, the money belongs to "us". I have never used the money for myself. As the monthly payments came in, I use it to pay for my son's apartment and basic living expenses when he got out of his first rehab. I never handed my son cash, per se.

The finally payment arrived yesterday for $1800.00. I knew, immediately, that I would earmark the money to pay off my son's debts-- a $300.00 loan from me, the Department of Motor Vehicles, the I.R.S. (for a bounced check) and a parking ticket that is a year old.

The rest of the money I will set aside for necessary expenses-- if his car is repaired (the engine is supposedly under warranty) he will need car insurance and registration. Otherwise, I will set it aside to help my son with necessary expenses in life. I have vowed that I will never hand him the cash.

Of course, B tried to get the money-- saying it's "his". The devil is certainly working in my son's head. Yes, it's his money since he was the victim of a crime. He forgets that had I not carried insurance, his personal items would never have been replaced. He forgets the time I took off work to attend every trial. He doesn't realize that my insurance premiums went up and that we incurred expenses from this crime. In essence, we were all victims of this crime. It was traumatic for me to get a call that my son had been attacked. Mercifully, my son's injuries were not life-threatening.

The timing of this check is perfect. Once his debts are paid, he should have about 3 months rent money set aside and he's out of debt and in compliance with "Big Brother". He can have a driver's license again, because fine will be paid.

B didn't come home, last night. He called and asked me for a ride to come home, just as I was leaving for church this morning. I could sense, all day yesterday, that my husband was out-of-sorts. I suspect it's because the end of July came -- and went, and I didn't drug test my son. B already told me he wouldn't test clean.

When I picked up B, he looked like hell. I asked if he was ready for a drug test and he said he's dirty. He announced, "I'm out, I know it". Then he said I "had" to give him the court money so he could survive. He said he just wanted to say "F- It, and use and forget about everything else". This is the demon addiction talking to my son.

My stomach lurched. My heart broke and my whole life felt like it went into a tailspin.

He became very upset and began to argue that an attorney told him that money was his. I replied that he could sue me, then. I had already spoken to the District Attorney when the first check arrive two years ago. I could feel his anger growing. What I didn't tell him, is that I have documented every penny where the money has gone. Not one cent has gone to my personal benefit

Deep down, my son knows that I would never steal from him. If anything, I have given my own money to help my son try to find sobriety.

B wanted to come to church with me, so I took himalong. My husband had already left in his own car. During the entire service, I could feel my husband's anger. I kept praying though the whole service for God's wisdom.

When church ended, my son found me (he sat in a different area, with a friend) he got in the car and apologized to me for his outburst.

I have learned than when my son becomes emotional and angry, that I need to avoid allowing letting his outbursts from getting to me-- he's being irrational so trying to reason with him is futile. I know that's the addiction doing this-- and I know it's the devil.

At the end of the church service, I felt a sense of what I should do. That's how, I believe, God speak so to me. I don't hear an audible voice, but more of an intuition or decision that makes sense to me... it bring peace to me. So, I feel that I have made the right decision and I told my son that at the end of August, he must move out. I am giving him this month to find a place to live. He took the news well.

While waiting for my son, after church, I spoke with my husband for a few months. I told him that this was my decision. His whole face relaxed and he said "thank you".

My marriage does not need to be under attack from addiction. My husband has been more than patient, but I can tell that he is tired of all my son's drama. I have to admit that I've grown tired of it, too-- the (supposed) lost wallets with money, losing the house key, running out of gas and his mood swings and on and on. He's not violent, but the lethargy and lack of follow through has taken it's toll on me.

I want peace back in my home.

My son is angry with himself. I am angry with addiction.

I can only pray that my son will find a way to stay sober. I know, 100%, that I have done everything I can to help my son. I've tried to teach him life skills. The amount of rent I've been charging him is what he can rent a room for. He's going to struggle, big time. He won't have the lifestyle that we've given him in our home. He won't have the gourmet meals, cable TV and clean surroundings.

The odds are he will live in a "dumpy" place, unless he is blessed to find a nice home that is renting a room. The challenge will be that my son smokes. His credit might be a challenge, but we shall see.

It is up to my son what path he will take-- sobriety or full-blown drug relapse.

Giving my son 30-days notice will help me-- "mom" to adjust to the idea of my son no longer living here. When he's clean, he's a joy to have around. We have grown much closer in the last few months.

I have grown to be a better mom, I think. I've learned to listen to my son, and in return he has opened up to me.

Still, the demon of addiction is bigger than I am. My son is fighting for his life, and I pray that he will lean on God for strength. B didn't stick around for the whole service, he said. He said he was crying.

That makes me sad. I can tell that my son is in as much shock as I am, that he has to move out.

Once B moves out, I doubt my worry will cease. If anything, I will go to sleep each night, asking God to watch over him. I pray that I will not receive a phone call, in the middle of the night, that my son has either been arrested or that he is dead.

Such is the reality when an addict has not found sobriety.

My son is struggling, and so am I.

I am doing what I must do, but it's a very bitter pill to swallow.

My heart is heavy and sad and I wish I could just release it all and cry-- the kind of sobbing that releases months and months of living with a son who is an addict.

I pray for my husband-- with gratitude for his patience. I don't want our relationship to suffer. I made a promise to my husband that if my son used again, he would have to leave.

I must honor my promises. My son accepts it.

Heavenly Father-- you know my son's heart right now. I pray that you will send help to my son, to fight this demon of addiction. I pray that I am doing your will and I thank you for your mercy. I pray that this unexpected amount of money that has been entrusted to me will be used to help my son find sobriety. Thank you for all you have done for B. Lord, I pray that when my son moves out on his own, that he will follow your path. I pray that you will sever all friendships that B has with those who mean him harm. I pray that you will be my son's intercessor from the devil's plan to lure my son into his lair of sin and darkness.

Thank you, Lord, for hearing our prayers. I pray that my son will hear your voice, feel your love and that he will have a victory against the Dark One.

Give me peace in my heart, I pray. Thank you, God, for loving me and for the strength you give me when I am feeling weak.

My husband came home, and I waited a few minutes to go into our bedroom to talk. B had gone to sleep.

The tears finally came-- like a dam releasing so much pain, fear and sorrow. I told my husband what decision I had made, and I could see the sorrow in his eyes. As I write this, I can feel the tears welling up again.

These are cleansing tears. My husband is a wise and compassionate person. He feels sorrow for my son, and I know that it pains him to see me-- his wife-- so upset.

We talked about our marriage, and he admitted what I already knew. He felt frustrated that I didn't want to talk about my son's addiction. I explained to him that it was because I knew, in my heart, that B would have to move out. I just didn't want say it. I kept praying for a miracle, and I won't stop praying for one.

Finally, I can cry. It feels good to let it all out. I'll pay for it, later, when my eyes puff up and burn. They always do. My husband gave me a strong hug and I could feel the wall between us break down. We love each other, very much. I find security in knowing that he is my best friend.

I'm thankful that I finally let go of all the denial I have been latching onto. I'm not one to cry often. When I do, I always hope that this is my body's way of letting all the bottled up fear go.

In God I trust.