Monday, January 16, 2012
I can clearly remember the day that my son's addiction hit a wall. It was the day that his father called me, because his car had broken down in the East side of town. His father was taking my son to buy heroin. Only his father thought he was helping him to buy "hash".
Did your jaw drop, reading this?
In looking back, I can understand why his father (we've been divorced since my son was eight years old) felt he had to help my son buy drugs. I'm not saying it was right. But, you see, when you love your child more than anything on earth-- it makes you do things to protect them from harm.
When I go back to read my first entry on my blog, I can clearly remember how afraid and confused that I was. I honestly and truly had no idea what oxycontin was. Nor did I know much about heroin. Sure, I've seen pictures (and movies) of junkies shooting up heroin. But, I had no idea that one could smoke it. Neither did my son's father. He had found the crumpled up pieces of foil, with the tell-tale traces of that ugly black stripe. It's called a "trail". B's father bought my son's lie that it was "hash".
So, here I sit, with a heavy heart. It's not my son who is the cause of it. It's that I'm starting to get daily private emails from parents who are just beginning my journey. When I read them, I am filled with deep sorrow for them. I can read their pain. They ask me if I can help them. They don't know where to start, or where to go.
If you are new to my blog, then I am glad that you found me. Who am I? How can I help? Do I really have enough wisdom that I can give them good advice?
I am a mother of a 23 year old son, who has struggled with drug addiction since he was in middle school. He is my only son. I have no college degree. I have been working since I was 11 years old, because my mother owned a business that was food-related. I am the child of parents who divorced when I was 14, and I could not have been happier.
I will stop right there. I'm going to jump into a new direction, but I'll return here.
I have always loved to write. Writing has been my way of expressing my feelings. I've always been an avid reader. Reading fiction, as a little girl, was always my way of escape. I've been told that my writing style is very raw. In some ways, it is. I type faster than I can write, from years and years of jobs related to the secretarial field. That's why I jump around, so please bear with me.
I want to share my life story with you, and it might take a few entries. There is a reason why I feel I need to do this. I want to share the story of how my life was a total mess, until I became a Christian in 1996. There is a purpose to why I feel so compelled to do this. I hope that by sharing my own story is that you can better understand why I believe that God carried me through this entire painful process of my son's drug addiction.
I have a testimony to share, and I want to do it. I'm quite sure that I'm not some lunatic who claims that I hear the voice of God. I don't believe that I'm a religious fanatic, who wants to climb up on a pulpit to try and convert all of you to becoming a Jesus Freak.
I am a woman, in her mid-fifties, who has survived through physical child abuse, abusive relationships, three divorces (there, I said it). As a result, I have battled against insecurities about myself, low self-esteem, anger management issues and honesty. It wasn't until 1996 that my own life had hit rock-bottom, and that's when I went to church for the first time in 20 years. I had turned my back on the hypocritical Catholic upbringing I had been raised with. I finally found out who God really is, and I became a believer. That journey has been equally hard, and I still struggle with living my life according to God's will.
I wanted to be a mom. I wanted it desperately. I loved the first years of raising my son. I loved being the center of my son's universe, during those toddler years. He was such a perfect little child.
I made plenty of mistakes as a parent. In looking back, my anger issues and child abuse, made me lose patience with my son more often than I should have. But, I cannot blame my mistakes on his addiction.
I'm going to stop right here. For now. I have led up to one very important point, in this brief intro do my life.
No matter what mistakes I made, as a parent, it is not my fault that my son is a drug addict. I'm leaving to take my son to get his car fixed. While we're in the car, on the return trip, I'm going to tell B that we need to sit down and I'd like to start sharing his side of the story.
I do believe that God wants to use my story to help others. I feel it so deeply, and only a believer in Christ can understand exactly what I am saying. I don't hear God's voice, audibly. But, I can feel his prompting to do something. I've thought of abandoning my blog, because I got tired of reliving all the drama of B's story. My readership had declined.
However, my readership is going up again. I'm getting the emails that I mentioned at the beginning of this post.
I have a story to share, and there are so many hurting parents who don't know what to do. I'm not a licensed counselor. I'm not a medical professional. I'm a God-believing, Jesus Loving mom, who has found acceptance in my son's situation. Today, my son is not using and I thank God for that. His battle isn't over. He has good days. He has bad days.
My son reads my blog now, and I share the emails with him. I pray that God wants to use us both to share our story.
May those who are reading this, find hope and comfort, by the Grace of God. You are in my heart. I read your emails, and try to respond on an individual basis. Please subscribe to my blog, as my time is so limited to write to each and every one of you. I pray that I can increase how often I blog, and that what I write will help you to find encouragement and support.
Please leave a comment, if you would like. You can leave it anonymously. I will try to address your questions and issues.
I have to go. I'll be back.