Sunday morning peace and new directions, maybe even reverse

Good morning,

I just noticed that I've only blogged four times during the month of January. Life goes on, and my son is still struggling to survive on a part-time job, with minimum wages and an expensive area to live in.  But, he's alive. I haven't shared much about B, lately.  There's a reason why I'm not blogging as often as I used to.  I've been trying to work on letting go of trying to monitor or "coach" my son in how to take care of his responsibilities. Do I hear an Amen?  I'm speaking from the view of a mother.  Yes, ladies, I think we are wired to protect our young. It's just what we do.  So, when one of our young turns out to be a drug addict, we are thrown into having to unlearn our gut instinct to protect our cubs.

That brings me to putting into writing what I've been hinting at, over the last few posts. What direction do I want this blog to go?  It has been 22 months, since my son went into rehab-- for the first time.  It's also the anniversary of my finding out the depth of my son's addiction-- for the very first time. Sometimes, it feels much longer.  My blog has a lot of entries, and one day, I should re-read the beginning of my journey as the mother of a drug addict.  That's when it hit me--

I have met so many of you, who have struggled with horrific stories of the devastation that drug addicts cause in families, and to themselves.  Many of you are dealing with drug addicts who are in jail.  Some of you are raising their children-- some of the kids even come from different dads. Many of you have been robbed blind by addicts. Most of us have invested a lot of money in rehabs, bail money, prescriptions.  Darn near all of us struggle with learning how to define the line between enabling our addicts, and having to make the tough choice of building impenetrable boundary walls.  We have learned to speak the "lingo" that can only be understood by those who are learning (or struggling) to accept the fact that our loved ones have an addiction that has no cure.   It's a tough road, and it hurts a lot.  Sadly, some of you sound so jaded... so beaten down... and you are the ones I pray for the most.   I don't feel any kind of glee is knowing that your situation is worse than mine. I have to look at my own situation, and not compare it to yours-- or anyone else's.  I am dealing with my own son--and learning things by stumbling around. Sometimes I've made choices that others tisk tisk.  I can't allow that to discourage me, or make me feel unworthy.  I'm learning, and with that I have begun a growing list of things I wish I had done differently-- things I wish I hadn't said-- and things that have worked. 

I'm by, no means, an expert on addiction.  Judging by some of the feedback I've received, via comments, there are some folks who have disagreed with how I handled things with my son.  Then again, I've received encouragement -- and even private emails-- from people who tell me that something I wrote touched their hearts. It is for the latter group of people, that I am not going to abandon this blog.  The direction I hope that my blog will go is in "reverse".  Yes, that's right.  I want to write from the point of view of that mother, who had no idea what oxycontin or black tar heroin was-- 22 months ago.  I hope to be a voice of encouragement to parents who are very new to the world of drug addiction.   What I don't want to do is to fall into my own personal trap of blogging when I'm angry or upset.  Instead, I will lean on prayer between me and my Higher Power-- my God in heaven.  I want be inspired to blog when I have been faced with a challenge, or even experienced a victory.  I want to share how I got through it and maybe reach one person, who is feeling confused or needs encouragement-- and something I wrote is an answer to their prayer.

I want to be a place where people can feel encouraged, or to reignite a spark of hope.  

I have received private emails from readers of my blog, who say that they are afraid to comment publicly. Now, why is that?  I realized that it's because there are bloggers who have been through hell and back, and who have war stories to share about their ordeals.  I respect these bloggers, but I wonder if they realize how intimidating it is for many people who read their comments. It's taken me a while to not take people's way of expressing their opinions personally. 

For that reason, I've made a commitment to myself that I am going to write for me.  I realized that I began to edit what I wrote-- for fear of being criticized.  I realized that my own need to feel accepted by everyone was keeping me from blogging my honest feelings and thoughts.  A week ago, I had an epiphany--  Debby, you are blogging because you have your own story to share.  Debby, you cannot please everyone.  Be a voice to people who are feeling hopeless, because God has given you the gift of encouragement.  Do not let anyone influence what you say or write.

I will try to carve out more time, for this blog.  I hope that I can rewind the way I write from a beginner's perspective.  There are people who visit my blog, for the first time, and I am thinking that they have no idea where to start reading my story.  I feel that way when I visit other blogs. Sometimes I read comments, cheering on someone's victory-- then I wonder...what happened?  What I'm trying to say is that sometimes I find blogs are stories that go back so far, it's like opening up a 900 page novel and starting 3/4 of the way through it. Does that make sense?

It is my hope and prayer, that I will take time to log on to this blog at least every other day.  Maybe some of you will smile at this-- I also hope to write brief paragraphs.  It seems the less I blog, the longer my posts become. They're line a novella, aren't they? (Blushes and smiles).

How is my son?  He's struggling to survive in a world of high unemployment. He's applying for a better job, with more hours, but he's not getting any offers. He tosses and turns at night, worrying about paying his rent and living on the poverty level.  He's not using illegal drugs anymore. Of that, I am 99.9% certain.  He's taking methadone, legally.   He's very sick. The ravages of his out-of-control high blood sugars are affecting him, and the Type I diabetes has become almost as dangerous as his addiction to heroin. He's thin, lacking muscle tone.  He has no medical insurance-- we can't afford it anymore.  He is trying, so hard, to keep from feeling depressed. He has almost no friends, because he's breaking away from the people he used with.  Another former friend of his recently died, from a drug overdose.

How am I?  I try to focus each day on counting my blessings.  Sometimes, in the early pre-dawn hours, I am jolted awake with a sense of worry for my son.  I struggle not to cry about it.  I talk to God, all the time.  I battle against the sneaky emotion of fear-- because I need to focus on trusting God.

My son is a drug addict.  He is trying to find sobriety.  The methadone program will end in 3 months.  My son wants to be sober, without any kind of legal drugs.  My son's brain needs to heal.

I'm off to church, and B hopes to join us there.  Otherwise, I will take him to buy some new dress clothes so he can continue on with job interviews.  I'm praying that my son will be given a job, with a boss who will treat my son with kindness. If that new boss would be a God loving person, I would rejoice even more.

For those of you who have wanted to comment here, but you are too shy-- or feel too intimidated-- please receive this:

You are anonymous.  This should be a support forum.  We all have our opinions.  One thing is for certain-- there is not one single "cookie cutter" solution that is universal.  Our children are all individuals-- not one is the same.  Please know that I invite your comments.  I am going to put my comments on moderation, though.  There are two reasons why--

#1 - I don't want people posting here, using my blog as a way to bring traffic or advertise they own sites.  If I visit your site (or blog) and feel it is something very useful, I will add you to my blogroll.  Otherwise, it's just not cool. If you are a drug company, I'll delete your advertising or SPAM.

#2 -  Be nice.  If someone leaves a comment that is written in the spirit of anger or insensitivity, I won't approve you.  In 22 months, I've only done that twice.  I'm not going to censor people's candor.   You don't have to be a Christian to comment on my blog. I only ask that you respect my love of God. I simply won't publish profanity or attacks on my faith.

#3 - You might want to check back to when you leave a comment.  I might just cut and paste a comment (or two) and give feedback to it.

Optimism, Forgiveness and a Victim no More!

I've been doing a lot of thinking-- and praying-- since my last post.  Fractal mom left a comment, in which a part of it said "for me, and maybe for others, i dont' know, i guess your optimism scares the willies out of me.".  I didn't take this literally, of course, and while I felt a little put off-- it was very short-lived. 

I was talking to my husband, and I want to share some thoughts on the direction that I hope is where God wants me to be. I also want to give a response to what Fractal mom wrote. Where to start, first?

This blog-- I don't want to give it up.  I have to say that my initial idea to start this blog was inspired when I saw David Sheff on the Oprah Winfrey show.  He had published the book "Beautiful Boy" (which I read).  I remember Oprah asking his son (Obviously the person who was the addict in the book) what he thought of his dad's book.  The son said that he didn't realize just how much hurt he had caused his loved ones.  For whatever reason, that hit home with me.  This blog will, when my son is ready, be something that I hope he will read.  I hope he will try to understand the other side of addiction-- the pain, the worry and the tears-- that I have shed for him, and maybe even myself. For the record, B knows about my blog. He hasn't asked to read it, yet-- and I don't think he's ready.  I'd like him to be sober for at least one year-- truly sober.

I have to say that I never expected to tap in to a family of fellow blogger that I have met via my blog.  Many of you I know by name-- Heather's Mom, Chai Latte, Barbara, Ron, Lisa C, Madison, Lou, Fractal mom-- just to name a few.  If your name isn't listed here, it doesn't mean that you don't matter to me.  I want to know your story , but I'll be honest-- sometimes, I just don't have the time to read each person's blog.  Sometimes, the stories are so unreal to me-- and I feel so sad. You've been a support system to me, and I thank you for you comments and encouragement.

So that brings me back to Fractal Mom (whose name I will leave out, out of respect for anonymity).

FM-- you have no idea how much I think of you and how much I pray for you.  Thank you, for sharing your story with me, via private email.  Your story broke my heart.  I cannot fathom the depth of betrayal that you have been through with your daughter.  I can only thank God that my son hasn't done the level of things to me, that have happened to you.

But, FM, I want to respond to your provocative comment about my optimism-- what you perceive as optimism, is what I know to be HOPE.  I thought of you, all during my church service, yesterday.   I feel so very blessed to have the kind of pastor that is at my church home.  Pastor M doesn't preach. He teaches.  He has a gift, and I take pages of notes.  Rarely, do I ever leave church, not feeling as though his message spoke directly to my heart.  It's quite the opposite, where I feel Pastor M has read my mind and my heart. I jotted a few notes down, FM, as I listened to his message called, "How to Control Your Anger".

I am not here to judge you, FM.  I've never met you.  You are dearly loved with fellow bloggers, I can tell.  You want to share your life experience, and I think you don't mean any harm. You have told me that you are a Christian, so please allow me to speak to you as a Jesus Loving, Bible Believing, Far-from-perfect Christian--  I feel your anger and your pain by the way that you write.  I pray, often, that you will be able to release your pain and your hatred towards what your daughter has put you through.  I really mean that.

You see, I have every reason in the world to be one angry and unforgiving woman.  My BFF reads my blog, and she would tell you that I'm telling the truth.  I have been terribly hurt and been the victim of some of these things--

• I have seen my father hold a knife over my mom's neck, while he pinned her head onto a cutting board. I was about 8 years old.
• I have been thrown against walls, beaten with thick leather belts until I wet my pants.
• My mother was a willful woman, with a short temper, who could cause great pain with a wooden cooking spoon or a long reed tool used to beat the dust out carpets.
• At the age of 19, I married a man 13 years my senior. He openly cheated on me, telling me I was ugly, stupid and would never amount to anything.  I stayed with him for 2 years, thinking I was unworthy of anything better.  For years, I believed the cruel things he said about me, and my self-esteem was in the toilet. He ended up marrying my best friend, 7 months after I left him.
• At 24, I met the man who is my son's father. For a while, the marriage was blissful.  But, after 17 years, his passive-aggressive nature began to belittle me in front of my friends. I recently found old videos, where he is calling me dumb a** and saying hurtful things to me. How blind I was, that I didn't see my friends eyes looking down and how they felt sorry for me.

• That man left me, for my employee and girlfriend.  While I was at Disneyland with my son, his cousin and my brother-- he loaded up everything in the house and moved into an apartment.  He cheated me out of our home. I unknowingly signed a Quit Claim deed (thinking we were refinancing our home).  Less than one year later, I was thrown out of my home and he moved in with his girlfriend, and her family.  My son would tell me all about the pool parties, and I'd cry alone at night. I felt so betrayed. My son was 7 years old. I received no alimony, no child support and I eeked by. I could not afford the attorey fees.  Fortunately, at that time, I found Jesus.  I tell people that God ripped the Cosmic Carpet right out from under me-- and he got my attention.  I had become an angry and bitter woman.  I lived a good life, financially. Little did I know my marriage was all a facade. He hid debts and money, and he was flat broke. Well, maybe. I suspect he had money hidden, but I will never know for sure.
• Eventually, I had to file bankruptcy.  .  I was bitter, of course and missing my house that I was taken away from me.
  
• Two years later, I had a Drive By Marriage.  I don't want to get into details.  Suffice it to say, he was a Con Man.  He was an alcoholic, but naive me... I didn't know. The truth finally came out, when he got arrested.  At that time, I was working to support three of us (son included), because he kept losing jobs.  He left me $50,000 in debt-- mostly taxes. I paid it all back, but it took years.

• About my son-- he was diagnosed with Type I Diabetes, when he was 10 years old.  Now, he's a drug addict. In between that, B's father and I had different values in parenting.  I cried a lot.

So, you see, while what I've been through cannot be compared apples to apples and oranges to oranges, I have a right to be angry and bitter. Or, do I?

By the Grace of God, I learned to forgive:

• I learned to forgive both of my girlfriends, who betrayed me, and married my ex-husbands.
• I didn't become a victim to my dire financial situation. I got a second job, and prayed and prayed-- 11 years later, I am debt-free, with some savings and a great husband.
• I learned to forgive my father, and to make peace with him,  for the beatings.
• I learned to forgive my mother for her willful ways and to appreciate the life skills she taught me.

I have, truthfully, forgiven every single person who hurt me. I mean that. I believe that, like Job, God restored my life tenfold because I gave forgiveness. God healed my anger and I have peace.  My husband loves me and accepts me for who I am. I told him everything, before he even proposed to me. He is an amazing person, who makes me very happy.

How did I do it--- learn to forgive?  It was when I finally got this:

I am a believer in Jesus Christ, my Lord and Savior.  If Jesus suffered and died on the cross-- humiliated and beaten beyond recognition-- to die for ME,and for my sins-- then who I am I to not forgive those who hurt me.

Period. No ifs, ands or buts...

It was through that revelation, that I changed from being a victim, and blaming everyone else for my sorrows, that I became Victorious.

One more thing, I jotted down yesterday--

"Because I go to church, I don't think I'm a perfect Christian nor a better Christian.   I go to church to become a BETTER person.  I don't sit in church to be seen. I go there to LEARN. The more I learn to read the Word of God, the more I understand that God commands us to FORGIVE.  Once I learned to forgive, my flames of anger were extinguished.  I am a work in progress, and I'm no better than anyone else.

So, Fractal Mom-- and anyone else who reads this-- my optimism is really me trusting in God's promise that he will never forsake me.  Fear = not trusting God.

It is so hard for non-believers to understand this.  It took me 40+ years to get this. 

I live each day in hope.  When I am angry, I pray to God to help me to not go into a rage.  When I am afraid, I pray for God to fill me with his presence.  When I sin-- and I am weak, and I sin more often than I want to-- I ask God to forgive me.

I will never be perfect. But, I refuse to fall victim and to sing that long forgotten tune "Oh, Woe is me!"  I hate that song. I thank God that through all of my trials & tribulations in life, that I have learned to be strong in faith.  While my heart broke, when I first discovered the truth about my son's addiction-- I have a support system that keeps me moving forward with hope, and joy.  I have wonderful friends, and family. #1 - I have God, my church and many prayers being sent for me and for my son.  I am thankful for that.

I have learned so much about addiction, in 19 months. I am not stupid, and I know that my son could relapse at any moment. He could die. I could die. I could get hit by a car, or suffer a heart attack. My son might be killed in a way other than drugs. My son could even go the route of stealing from me, or jail, or...or...

I refuse to become a victim to my son's plight. I want to laugh. I want to love. I want to feel joy. Know what? I am happy.

The next time I post-- the direction I pray my blog will go. I've prattled long enough.

James 1 (New King James Version)

2 My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials, 3 knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience. 4 But let patience have its perfect work, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing. 5 If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives to all liberally and without reproach, and it will be given to him. 6 But let him ask in faith, with no doubting, for he who doubts is like a wave of the sea driven and tossed by the wind. 7 For let not that man suppose that he will receive anything from the Lord; 8 he is a double-minded man, unstable in all his ways.

Friday quick update

I type an average of 80WPM and I probably think twice as fast-- so I am going to attempt to keep this short. Ha!I haven't blogged in a week, but I think it's important for me to keep journaling my thoughts and my son's progress with his addiction:

B is clean, only because of methadone. He says he feels "great".  He says the methadone helps him to sleep better and feel better. He says he has absolutely no desire to use. Praise God.

I haven't talked to B since Wednesday-- and that's because I am trying to leave him to his own devices. That is, I'm trying to not set myself up for "Mommy Mode". You women know the drill-- Did you call so-and-so... Did you take care of such-and-such?   My son has some things to take care of, and I need to let it go.  There's one baby step forward, for me!

B's roommate is using heroin again-- freebasing it.  B is disgusted with it, and keeps saying that he wishes A would hit bottom.   Then we both look at each other, and I say "sound familiar"?  He nods and agrees that he now sounds like me.

B will go in on Tuesday for tests to see if he really has Hepatitis-C.  We will go forward, from there, based on the results.

So, you see, I am in suspended animation.  That's why I haven't been blogging.  In some ways, that troubles me-- I have put so much heart and soul into this blog. That's why I invested in redesigning it.  Ultimately, I hope that my blog will reach out and touch others.  I've noticed that many of the people I grew to know, via this blog,  have stopped leaving comments. Some of you still do, and I thank you.   I try not to take that personally-- I think I've been so scarce, that I'm not so much on the radar with fellow bloggers who also have a loved one.

So, I ponder-- what direction do I want this blog to go? Maybe I should carve out time --which lately I've had so little of-- to write about what I've learned in the last 21 months-- when I first learn about my son's addiction.  I hope and pray, that I won't suddenly find myself with a need to blog every day.  I remember those days well-- when my son's addiction was so out of control, I could not find peace.

My son's addiction, at this moment, is a sleeping giant.  Shhhhhhhhhhhhhh.  This weekend, I will try and pop in to the blogs on my blogroll.  I feel so out of it-- not knowing what's going on in your lives. I'm sorry for that. I guess I'm trying to not focus on the the demon that still calls my son's name.

Later,

Health issues for my son - is it Hepatitis C?

I am so thankful that it's Friday. Seriously. Work has been hectic and stressful. On top of that, I've been deeply affected by the plight of Haiti. I can't bring myself to blog any photos of recipes I've made (on my "other" blog) because the dichotomy is too strong. That is, I have so much and these people had so little...and they have even less than nothing.

I digress. My son. I've been very quiet on my blog. I think my silence is more a reflection of my desire to go on with my life. My son has been moved out of our home for almost five months. I've adjusted to his being gone. I no longer feel that his room is empty. I feel as though it's been morphed into a guest bedroom, and (I admit) that I don't have to put away my ironing board any longer. The cats have taken over B's bed, enjoying the window view while C and I are away at work.

I talk to B all the time. We really have gotten closer. So, how is B? He's eeking by. He still goes to work, because he feels the urgency to be able to pay his rent. This is a good thing. If my son was using, he wouldn't be able to pay his rent. I still help him out with some bare necessities-- milk, bread etc. He comes to wash his laundry, which is fine with me. It gives us time to be together. He has a home cooked meal, and sometimes I send him home with care packages of food I've cooked. He is very, very thankful.

I've seen a change in my son, that is encouraging. He has eyeglasses. It turns out he has 20-70 vision-- most likely attributed to his poor care of his Type I diabetes. While the eye doctor lectured my son on why he needs to better manage his diabetes, I could see my son's resistance. It has been an ten year battle for my son to accept that he has this disease. Even, today, my son is angry that he has diabetes.

All of the blathering is leading up to today-- my son took a UA and he met with the doctor (at the Methadone Clinic). The doctor suspects he might have Hepatitis C, because his liver count isn't good. B called me, freaking out-- which, of course, made my adrenalin flow. B says the doctor attributes Hep C could be from his snorting oxycontin, or it could be from not managing his diabetes.

I am trying not to panic. I've googled Hep C and have read that it's not necessarily fatal, and potential curable. I need to get him in for a test to confirm if this is so. In case you're wondering-- my son has never done IV drugs. Ironically, it grosses him out at the thought of injecting something in his veins-- though he uses needles to inject insulin. Unfortunately, my son "forgets" to take insulin and rarely tests his blood sugar.

So, there you have it. One more issue for me to take seriously. Obviously, I want to find out correct medical information.

As far as methadone goes-- I have to say that my son is doing really well. B says that he is so glad he's on methadone. He says he has no desire to use opiates. He is sleeping again. He's gaining weight. I am going to meet with his counselor (whom B really likes a lot) at the methadone clinic. B would like to extend the program for one more month. I won't get into the lengthy details, but it might be a good thing to give my son another 30 days.

B is still struggling to make ends meet. His roommate might be moving out, so he worries about finding a roommate.

My words of encouragement are probably hollow for my son-- I tell him that when these things happen, that it's not necessarily a bad thing. I tell him that God might be shutting doors, so he'll finally walk into one that is God's plan for him. Even the Hep-C scare... maybe this is a wake up call to manage his diabetes! My son is so rattled, that he says he needs to take better care of himself.

I haven't visited your blogs, and I am sorry. With my busy work schedule, and my church groups I just haven't had much time. I continue to pray for you-- my son's drug addiction isn't over. For now, I thank God, that my son is alive, arrest-free and I am so thankful for my abundant blessings.

I adore my son, and I continue to hope that he will continue to stay clean.

Breaking my Silence and Waiting to Exhale...

It's interesting how I was reflecting on this very blog, this very morning. Most of you don't know that I have another blog-- they are in two different worlds. My "other" blog is a recipe and cooking blog. Cooking/baking and food photography has become my newest hobby-- now that my horse is too old to be ridden. We (my horse) and I have developed arthritis in both knees, so I've literally put my saddle into storage. I find therapeutic value in the kitchen, you see. If I am feeling stressed about something, I find a sense of "release" if I start chopping things. Maybe there's something symbolic in that-- I'd rather lop the top off a piece of fennel, rather than someone I'm not very happy with.  I sometimes put on my iPod, turn on an audio book and become lost in cooking for a few hours-- inventing recipes and freezing some meals for later on. It isn't so much the act of eating that helps to ease my stress-- if it was, I'd be featured on "The Biggest Loser". I think it's more that my end result of cooking or baking something (and I rarely make the same thing, twice) gives me a sense of accomplishment-- that I learned to make something, from scratch, for the first time. I feel pleased that I succeeded. The biggest bonus for me, though, is seeing a look of sheer enjoyment from my loved ones. My husband appreciates my efforts, as does my son. I'm also learning how to take better photographs, and learning how to use photo editing software. I've met some wonderful food bloggers, who are unaware of this blog. I have separated both identities, and I like it this way. Maybe I've evolved into a foodie/mother of a drug addict Jekyll and Hyde?

What does this have to do with this blog? I haven't been on it, for a while. Truthfully, I think I just needed to take a break from giving so much energy to my son and all of the problems his addiction has brought into my personal life-- and my marriage. I'm sorry if I seem selfish, because I truly do care about so many of my blogger friends who have been burdened with the heartache of having a loved one who is addicted to drugs and/or alcohol. I think that I needed to step back, for a while.  I think of you, and I pray for you. It's true.

It's worked pretty well, and that's a good thing. During my two weeks of our school winter break, I kept a low profile. My Christmas tree finally went up on December 22nd. I only used 25% of my abundant collection of ornaments. I just couldn't get into it-- and I can't really pinpoint why. I love Christmas, but it's a religious holiday for me. Maybe it's the commercialism that I seem to have been resisting. I never got around to sending Christmas cards.  I didn't bake any Christmas cookies.  Christmas shopping was easy-- I bought my son things he needed...like new shoes and underwear.  I asked my husband to agree that we not exchange gifts. I feel like everyday is Christmas with my husband.  Instead, we gave to the homeless. It's what Christmas is all about, to me. Giving. Not receiving.

Our Christmas Eve celebration (I'm not into Christmas Day at all) was lovely. My son ended up joining us in church, and we had a nice dinner. My son was sober, Praise God! I planned on his spending the night, so I wouldn't worry about him drinking and driving. He hardly drinks at all, but since he just turned 21 I can understand that he wants the thrill of ordering a drink-- and being "carded". He slept in, showered and then headed off to work. Yep. Golf Courses don't close on Christmas Day.

B has been flying "off the radar" with me.  That translates to, all appears quiet.  He's on the methadone program. He's taking 40mg a day, which I found out is a very low dosage. He loves his counselor. My son is working again, as I last reported. He is eeking by. I invite him to have dinner with us. The way I cook-- fresh, frugal and plentiful, it's never a problem.

I'm making baby steps forward in not enabling my son. I had a weak moment, where my son called to say that he's "starving". My immediate reaction was to bring him a hot meal. My rationale was that my son is diabetic, and he needs to eat carbs to keep his blood sugars from plunging. My husband called me on it. I sat back and realized my husband is right. It's unfortunate that my son has a disease where his pancreas doesn't produce insulin-- Type I. "You're right", I admitted. I didn't bring my son food, and B never called back whining.  My son needs to learn to get up earlier, pack a lunch and not call Mom-To-The-Rescue.

B and I are slowly working on breaking our codependence.

There hasn't been any huge drama. There have been hiccups along the way. My son has called me for advice, which I am happy to oblige with. Whether or not he takes it is up to him.

So, back to this morning-- I was thanking God that my son is still alive, arrest-free and isn't using. That's huge. I'm going to meet with my son, tonight, to help him fine tune his budget (he has learned some things).

Then, my son just called. His roommate got fired. He was busted smoking heroin on the job. I don't know the details, and it wasn't an arrest.  His boss suspected A wasn't acting right. I would guess that they found foil, maybe? I don't know. It's not my problem.  It just makes me sad for A. He needs help. Maybe this is it.

Damn.

This is "A", who moved in six weeks ago. Nice kid. He had been sober for a long time, but relapsed. Truly, he's not a criminal. Just a kid from a lot of dysfunction, who got lost. Sound familiar?

The irony is that my son has been begging him to quit using.So when B called to tell me what happened, he sounded exactly like me! He kept saying that God is making A hit his bottom. He was angry that he warned A that he needed to quit-- that this would cost him his job.

So, B is back to square one. He needs to find a new roommate. Unless A gets another job.  A needs detox, I know. But, who am I to say?

Only this time, I'm not going to worry about it. I can only listen and pray. That's it. This is between my son and his roommate.

At least this roommate doesn't have a gun, or ties to gangs. A is mellow.  I had no idea he had gone down this road.

I can only hope that my son is seeing a mirror image of what he put so many people through, by watching A's predicament. I listened to  my son complaining about drug addict behavior. At one point, I started chuckling.

B asked what was so funny.

"You sound like me", I said.

"Yeah, you're right". I could hear him chuckling in agreement.

God works in very mysterious ways. He sometimes uses people to reach others, this way.

Is all of this God's way of showing my son where he was headed?

I want to be sure to look for the positives, whenever I post. What I am seeing in my son is a snippet of maturity. He still frustrates me with his lack of follow-through and punctuality. But, compared to a lot of the young adults his age, he's pretty much "typical". Now that he's living on his own-- without all the comforts that he's used to, I am seeing him gaining a new appreciation for what he had. He's showing a little more responsiblity with money.

I also find it amusing that my son is proud of his cooking achievements. He's learning how to cook, frugally. He's realized that eating out is out of his financial reach. Sometimes he calls me for recipe ideas.  Do I see a future chef?

Most importantly, I am 99.9% convinced that he does not want to use. Is methadone going to do it for him? I can't answer that.

All I know is that, right now, my son seems to be "himself". It's so nice to not fear finding those ugly foils in his pants pockets (when he does laundry at our house), in his car or anywhere else. I don't see the black smudge prints on door jams (from heroin), the tell-tale yellow, green or blue stains on his t-shirts (from rubbing off the time-release coating on oxy pills). My son has energy again, an appetite and he seems happy.

One day at a time... I walk in faith and hope.