tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84520765606353536342024-03-06T00:36:39.275-08:00OXYCONTIN and OPIATE ADDICTION-A Mother's StoryMy name is Debby, and my son is an addict:The purpose of this blog began as a way to keep my loved ones informed on how my son is doing with his detox/recovery. To date, this blog is evolving into what I hope will be a ministry and blessing to others who might be experiencing what I am. To respect my son, I will not use full names, in the theme of Nar-Anon.
You can email me at: momsstory@gmail.comDebby of Oxycontin and Opiate Addiction: A Mother's Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14881167853310152283noreply@blogger.comBlogger307125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8452076560635353634.post-82089390124834654272016-03-13T10:54:00.001-07:002016-03-13T14:42:59.340-07:00Back in California... and the Sobriety Odometer is set back<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My son returned to California a month ago, and I haven't had a chance to write an update until today. Thank you, to those of you who left encouraging prayers and messages on my blog, to my email and on my Facebook page. I do appreciate it. Here's the update:<br />
<br />
B was lucky enough to have enough money from his tax refund to pay off the guy he owed the money to, for the heroin. I loaned the advance to him, and we will get his refund. Did I just write those words? <i>My son paid off his heroin debt</i>. Really? Why can't I write "<i>my son just paid off his car loan</i>" or "<i>my son just paid off his student loan</i>?" But, no. He set himself up for a relapse, and he admits it.<br />
<br />
For an addict, isolation is a very dangerous place to be. He didn't make a lot of friends in Texas. He, physically, worked hard all day long. Some days he would do "side jobs" and come home very late after a 12 hour day. Once his relationship with the person who was apprenticing him started to deteriorate, he began to feel hopeless. He was frustrated with never having money. He was physically exhausted. He was lonely, and missing his friends and family.<br />
<br />
Isolation and hopelessness, are dangerous combinations for addicts. B thought he could make some quick money to pay off debt he owed (mostly to me). But, it backfired. The "deal" fell apart when the person got arrested. B had the "stuff" on him, in his apartment, and temptation called to him. He was feeling down and thought he'd do "just a little". From there, most addicts can finish the rest of the sentence.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>B admits how stupid that was. He should have just returned that drug to the dealer and said he couldn't sell it. Then, he should have walked away and kept his sobriety. But, no. He didn't. </i></blockquote>
<br />
It was gone in just a few days. My son got a case of what addicts call "the f**k it's". Then, reality set in. He had just blown three years of sobriety and he had to face the dealer with the fact he owed him money and he didn't have it.<br />
<br />
He called me <a href="http://howismyson.blogspot.com/2016/01/and-he-took-bait.html"><i>(read previous post</i></a>) and the terror I thought I'd never have to face again, hit me...right in the heart.<br />
<br />
So, the dealer got paid, but he wanted more-- just as I feared would happen. He wanted "interest" for all the hassles in getting his money. B didn't have it, and I wasn't going to give it to him. Every day, I lived in fear that I'd get a call that my son was found shot. I'd fret when my son wouldn't answer his phone. It was the mom of an addict's biggest fear, come true. I feared for my son's life.<br />
<br />
Ten days later, my son's best friend flew into Texas, they loaded up my son's few possessions and drove back to California in 21 hours.<br />
<br />
How sad. My son had to leave Texas, and the dealer got nothing. Wait. What? The dealer got nothing. Good! I hope he gets busted.<br />
<br />
My son was lucky enough to get his former job back. He is currently trying to find a place to live. The cost of living, in California, is very expensive. He, and his best friend, are still trying to find a place to rent. But, without much credit (or good credit) so far, no luck. B is sleeping on the the couch at his BF's home. We've allowed him to stay in our home, on weekends. He's a great roommate, and I don't mind. But, my husband is right. If he was allowed to move back in with us, he wouldn't have the motivation to make finding a home, and earning more money, a priority.<br />
<br />
B has been taking "<a href="http://www.kratomfacts.com/kratom-facts"><i><b>Kratom</b></i></a>" for the last three weeks. He says it's a botanical "<a href="http://howismyson.blogspot.com/2012/02/candid-interview-in-my-sons-own-words.html"><i><b>suboxone</b></i></a>". At this time, it's legal to buy in California. It's controversial, and I don't condone it. But, what can I say or do? It pains me that my son has to go through this just to clear his body of this poison. It pains me even more than my son has to turn to a pill or herb (or alcohol) to deal with his drug addiction. This weekend, he is staying with us to get off the kratom. He's going cold-turkey, and so far, he says it's not nearly as bad as his suboxone detox. Amen to that.<br />
<br />
How I wish my son could work on his internal self. How I long for my son to discover that there are unresolved issues in his life and that he needs a <i>spiritual</i> rehab. How I wish for my son to find the emotional healing that he needs, and if he could only discover how faith in Christ would give him the hope and courage that I have personally discovered. In some of my older posts, I have shared snippets of my own past, and how my faith has helped me to get through some very painful memories and betrayals. He needs to find a support group to help him deal with what's eating him up, inside, and how to deal with it without any kind of pill or drug. <br />
<br />
I don't need alcohol, cigarettes or drugs to help self-medicate my pain and fears. Then again, I'm not a drug addict. I do believe that addiction is a disease and that will-power isn't going to make my son stay sober. He needs to work a program, and be around people who will be a positive influence on him. Hanging out with people who are using, or people who aren't working some kind of sobriety program is not going to help my son.<br />
<br />
As for non-believers (in Christ) it's hard for them to understand the power of prayer, that I finally discovered. I pray that for my son, and people I know and for many of you who write to me-- sharing your own pain and how addiction has affected you.<br />
<br />
I am so grateful that God has restored my relationship with my son. It was very rocky during his middle school years. During his high school years, I felt as though we were constantly butting heads. His behavior was so hateful towards me, and I spent many days crying my eyes out, and feeling as though I was a failure as a mom.<br />
<br />
Now that my son is 27 years old, he is a young man. His brain has finally matured, and he doesn't see me as that "stupid mom" and he doesn't need to rebel against me. He knows, now, that he's an adult and that living with us isn't the best thing for any of us. We can have mature discussions. I can be honest with him about my fears. He seems to value my wisdom.<br />
<br />
So, there we have it. B's experience in Texas was not a waste of time He learned that he loves the idea of becoming an electrician. He learned how to survive on his own, and I think he has a heightened appreciation that his hometown is one of the most beautiful places on earth. It's a place where people, from all over the world, come to vacation.<br />
<br />
My son dodged a bullet. Literally.<br />
<br />
Last night, I watched ABC's TV Show "20/20", that I recorded on March 11th. If you can find this show, online, watch it. It's about the heroin epidemic in New Hampshire. At first, I didn't want to watch it. But, I did. I cried, and the stories broke my heart.<br />
<br />
At the end of the show, I felt such gratitude to God. While my son is a recovering heroin addict, I thank God with every fiber of my soul, that he is not strung out, shooting that poison into his veins. I thank God that my son relapsed for only a few days, and is now beginning a new countdown to his sobriety. He regrets it, and doesn't want to use drugs any more. <br />
<br />
I continue to pray for his sobriety, and that he will find the career and financial means to live out his life free from that poison. I pray that for so many of you.<br />
<br />
<br />
<img align="left" src="http://i273.photobucket.com/albums/jj227/ewhites/HowsMySonSignature-1.jpg" style="border: 0;" />Debby of Oxycontin and Opiate Addiction: A Mother's Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14881167853310152283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8452076560635353634.post-23762719384736121762016-01-19T09:37:00.000-08:002016-01-19T10:36:10.001-08:00...and, he took the bait<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It happened.<br />
<br />
He relapsed.<br />
<br />
That moment that strikes terror into any parent's heart.<br />
<br />
I don't know many details right now. I woke up to a text from B, asking me to "pray for him full force".<br />
<br />
As any mother would do, I felt adrenaline rushing through my entire body. Did he get fired? Did he overdraw his bank account?<br />
<br />
It just never occurred to me that drugs would be involved. Well, maybe a little. But, no. He's been clean for three years now. He's doing great in new state of Texas. Sure, he's living at poverty level, but I'm helping him to buy groceries and clothes.<br />
<br />
So, I sat and prayed that God would give Brian strength and courage for whatever he is facing. That God would give me the wisdom I need to know what to do-- and what not to do.<br />
<br />
I picked up the phone and dialed my son, and he answered. He was talking fast, because he was at work-- and he shouldn't be on the phone. It all came spilling out so fast, that I couldn't wrap my head around the sentences he was saying.<br />
<br />
"<i>Mom, I'm in big trouble</i>". <i> I wanted to make some fast money, to pay off some debt. I bought the stuff while I was in California. The guy who was going to buy it flaked. I took the stuff back to Texas. I owe a guy $1500 and I can' t pay him.</i><br />
<br />
All of this dialogue at a rapid pace.<br />
<br />
I'm sure my face turned white. (<i>Breathe...breathe</i>).<br />
<br />
I calmly ask him where the stuff was.<br />
<br />
"I used it".<br />
<br />
<i>And there we have it.</i><br />
<br />
"So, temptation came your way, and you took the bait".<br />
<br />
My head is spinning.<br />
<br />
<i>It's bad, mom. The guy is pissed and wants his money. He's part of the Mexican cartel.</i><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Oh dear, God. </span><br />
<br />
The first instinct I have is to transfer the money to him. I have it.<br />
<i> </i><br />
But, then, all that I was told from our drug addiction classes is that I shouldn't do it.<br />
<br />
<i>I can't believe he used $1500 worth of heroin in five days. </i><br />
<br />
"So, are you addicted again? I ask.<br />
<br />
(<i>What a stupid question.</i>) Of course. He's an addict.<br />
<br />
He replies that it's been a week since he last used, and he's okay now.<br />
<br />
This is the part where my heart breaks all over again. Heroin isn't that forgiving. Heroin is like a cancer. It doesn't let go. It goes into remission, but it lurks and waits... and he took the bait.<br />
<br />
I honestly don't know what to do. The first thing I did was to call his father to tell him that our son is in trouble. I don't know what his dad can do, and I don't even know why I called him. Was I subconsciously wanting his dad to bail B out of his trouble? He's done it many times, before.<br />
<br />
As a mother, the thought of someone hurting my son scares me to death. With heroin, comes some very dark people who will hurt anyone. They have guns and knives. They have no qualms about killing someone. I know this sounds melodramatic, but it's true.<br />
<br />
All I can do, right now, is pray. I do, every day. I always pray for my son. I always pray that God will protect my son from the darkness that wants him back again. God gives us free will. My son made a choice, and he was weak.<br />
<br />
It is said in NA meetings that conquering addiction isn't a matter of will. It's not as simple as saying "I won't do it". Addiction is a powerful force, and it is something I've always know that my son would have to fight against for the rest of his life. I see in him a spiritual void. I see in my son that he is always looking for a quick fix-- he can't sleep, take a pill. He's stressed, take a pill. He's had a hard day, have a beer.<br />
<br />
I'm most disappointed that his excuse for his decision was to make some quick money to get out of debt. Tell <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_DeLorean"><i><b>John DeLorean </b></i></a>that.<br />
<br />
It has been 45 minutes since I heard my son's boss yelling at him to get off the phone. So, here I sit, on my drug blog that I've neglected for so long-- because I was so happy that my son was set free from heroin.<br />
<br />
I cannot collapse around this. I freely and trustingly am giving this God-- asking Him for courage, strength and wisdom in this. I pray that my son's life is not in danger, and that he will find a way out. He has a tax return he's going to try and cash in. If all goes well, then that money will cover his debt.<br />
<br />
I just emailed my husband. I didn't want to tell him, but he's my best friend. I told him. He can't talk much, since he's at work. I could hear the sadness in his voice.<br />
<br />
The rain is falling down, hard, and our dry California land desperately needs it. Normally, I would be enjoying the rain, while sipping my coffee and recovering from a bad cold.<br />
<br />
But, now, my thoughts are with my son. I am deeply disappointed in his choice he made. Now, it's backfired.<br />
<br />
Dear Father in Heaven. Please, help my son to find a way out. Please, help my son to see the error of his ways and that he would be set free, once again, of his addiction to heroin. Be his hope, be his strength, and please protect his life.<br />
<br />
In Jesus Name. Amen.<br />
<br />
<br />
<img align="left" src="http://i273.photobucket.com/albums/jj227/ewhites/HowsMySonSignature-1.jpg" style="border: 0;" />Debby of Oxycontin and Opiate Addiction: A Mother's Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14881167853310152283noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8452076560635353634.post-59809210201867898222015-12-28T10:53:00.001-08:002015-12-30T10:05:46.304-08:00Praying for Hard Soil - thoughts from the praying mother of an addict<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Hello to my neglected blog. I have a lot on my mind, and need to write my thoughts down. This blog is my safe place to talk about my son, and his addiction. I am anonymous. Nobody knows where I live, or what my real name is. Maybe a praying mom will read this post and understand my words. So, here goes:<br />
<br />
The Christmas holidays have passed, and my son has come and gone. He's back in his new state of Texas, and 20% finished with his electrician apprenticeship.<br />
<br />
Let's back up to a week before Christmas. I had arranged for a nice hotel room, with a parking package, so that B could leave work on a Friday evening and catch his Saturday morning flight. He had a three hour drive to make, and I wanted for him to have plenty of time to get a good night's sleep. The hotel had a shuttle that would take him to the airport. B has never flown by himself, so I made things as easy and comfy as I could. It also cost a pretty penny, but I felt that he was worth it. <br />
<br />
Then, his addictive/crisis-driven behavior kicked in. He procrastinated his leaving, until the very end. It's not worth my writing out all of the details, but he never left his place on time to enjoy the hotel that I spent money on. He overslept, instead, and raced to the airport... arriving just minutes before the last boarding call. In the meantime, I was upset and angry that he had so little regard for my hard-earned money, and careful planning.<br />
<br />
I tossed and turned all night long, praying that my son would get to the airport. I had horrific thoughts of his missing the flight and the expense of rerouting him-- and most of all, that I'd miss at least one day of the precious week I was so looking forward to spending with him. My husband and I joined hands and prayed that the Good Lord would make this disaster work out in a good way. He did, and I headed for the drive to the airport. I decided to let go of the wasted hotel room, and my disappointment. I just wanted to see my son, and so I pushed my negative feelings aside.<br />
<br />
When B came off the plane, I saw a tall and very thin young man. His cheekbones were prominent. My first motherly thought was that I had a week to try and feed him, of course! He was soaking in the beautiful green mountains (we finally got some rain in California), and we fell into comfortable chatter. I was beaming with joy.<br />
<br />
Each day flew by. I made dinner, so his best friend could join us. We laughed, and had a great evening. I knew that B needed to see his old friends. So, off they went, and I settled back into relaxing at home with my wonderful husband.<br />
<br />
The emotions I felt, seeing B back under our roof were all over the place. I could see the addictive behavior in him. Frankly, it worried me. My son is not using heroin again, of that I am sure. The first good sign, is that he has money. Physically, the ravages of heroin isn't showing. However, I noticed he's drinking-- and that made me uncomfortable. Common sense tells me that addicts shouldn't drink. We don't keep a lot of alcohol in our home, and he wasn't frantically looking for it. Still, he tied one on with his friends a couple of times and I am very concerned that his addictive brain will want alcohol to replace his heroin use. I had to push back my fears and ask God to take the wheel on that one. My worrying isn't going to solve a thing. Still, old fears started to creep back. Let go, let God.<br />
<br />
It is said that parents of addicts should never blame ourselves for our kid's addictions. However, I could see negative behaviors in B that made me wonder... "did I teach him that?" My son is a master procrastinator, and it has led him to have a lot of disappointments in life. His forgetfulness, and lack of planning skills, leads to a lot of drama in his life. My husband remarked that my son is "crisis driven", and I hate to admit that it seems that way.<br />
<br />
My emotions were all over the place, while he was here. I was so happy to see my son, and I enjoyed talking to him. We watched a movie together, and explored our beautiful coast of California, along with his best friend (who I like). I was thrilled to watch him soaking in our local scenic park, and inhaling the scent of the Pacific Ocean. I bought him much needed clothes, and was happy to do so. The week flew by so fast, and before I knew it, we were taking him back to the airport.<br />
<br />
I can tell that B really wants to return to California. He doesn't want to give up becoming an electrician, either. My heart would love to have him closer, but I need to let him go-- and pray he finds his way, and that he completes the five-year program. I am cheering him on, when he feels discouraged. Five years seems like a long time, but he also knows that this is a career that will pay him well and lead to job security. Plus, he loves it.<br />
<br />
Seeing B, this time, and saying goodbye made me face something that I have been in denial of for a long time. <u><b><i>I truly have to let my son go.</i></b></u> As I washed his bed linens, and returned his former bedroom into the guest room it has now become-- I need to accept that he will never live here again. He knows it, and I know it. My heart hasn't quite accepted it, yet. I'm working on it.<br />
<br />
My son is now a man. He is an addict, and he will always have to fight the urge to not self-medicate himself. I am a God-loving mom, who has changed my own life because of my faith in Him. To me, it seems that my son's millennial generation is moving away from Christianity more than ever before. With all the gay marriage controversy-- and even traditional marriage values seeming less important-- it seems (to me) that Christians are under attack now more than ever. My own son labeled me as intolerant, last week. My answer to that is that I am living my life according to God's written word. It is not for me to rewrite what the bible says. If am intolerant to how the world is moving away from biblical truths-- then he is intolerant for condemning me for wanting to live my life to please God. I think he got my point, as he never said that to me again.<br />
<br />
I also said that it is my belief that so many people condemn biblical truth, because they don't want to give up the things that they want to do. I should know, because I lived a life so far from God, for so many years. Now, the things I once thought made me happy no longer matter to me. Yes, I'm still a sinner and I make mistakes all the time. Only, now, I know it and I feel shame. I am a much more forgiving person than I once was, and have more peace in my life because of it.<br />
<br />
The first night that B was back in Texas, my heart grieved for his presence all over again. But that voice inside me reminded me-- <i>God blessed me with my son. I need to let him go, and trust that God has a plan for him. </i>I cannot force my son to renew his faith in God. I can, however, pray for him every single day. That is exactly what I do.<br />
<br />
In closing, with this journal entry, below is the scripture that our pastor spoke about yesterday. He, himself, has a daughter that hit rock bottom with alcohol and drug addiction. She is now clean and sober, and has returned to having a relationship with Jesus Christ. She is currently serving as a missionary in Mexico. I don't see my son going that route. What I pray for my son, is that he would see he doesn't need anxiety medication, weed or drugs to make him feel happy. I've never shared my personal testimony as to why I gave my heart and soul to God. I will say that because of my faith, I have found peace in my life. <br />
<br />
I pray that for son, and anyone who might read these thoughts that come from my heart. This parable reminds me to pray that my son's "hard soil" would be softened and that his faith would take root and grow. <br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>Mark 4: </b><br />
<br />
<span class="text Mark-4-3" id="en-NIV-24327"><span class="woj"><sup class="versenum">3<i> </i></sup><span style="background-color: yellow;"><i>“Listen! A farmer went out to sow his seed.</i></span></span></span><span style="background-color: yellow;"><i> <span class="text Mark-4-4" id="en-NIV-24328"><span class="woj"><sup class="versenum">4 </sup>As he was scattering the seed, some fell along the path, and the birds came and ate it up.</span></span> <span class="text Mark-4-5" id="en-NIV-24329"><span class="woj"><sup class="versenum">5 </sup>Some fell on rocky places, where it did not have much soil. It sprang up quickly, because the soil was shallow.</span></span> <span class="text Mark-4-6" id="en-NIV-24330"><span class="woj"><sup class="versenum">6 </sup>But when the sun came up, the plants were scorched, and they withered because they had no root.</span></span> <span class="text Mark-4-7" id="en-NIV-24331"><span class="woj"><sup class="versenum">7 </sup>Other seed fell among thorns, which grew up and choked the plants, so that they did not bear grain.</span></span> <span class="text Mark-4-8" id="en-NIV-24332"><span class="woj"><sup class="versenum">8 </sup>Still
other seed fell on good soil. It came up, grew and produced a crop,
some multiplying thirty, some sixty, some a hundred times.”</span></span></i></span> <br />
<span class="text Mark-4-9" id="en-NIV-24333"><sup class="versenum">9 </sup>Then Jesus said, <span class="woj">“Whoever has ears to hear, let them hear.”</span></span><br />
<span class="text Mark-4-10" id="en-NIV-24334"><sup class="versenum">10 </sup>When he was alone, the Twelve and the others around him asked him about the parables.</span> <span class="text Mark-4-11" id="en-NIV-24335"><sup class="versenum">11 </sup>He told them, <span class="woj">“The secret of the kingdom of God has been given to you. But to those on the outside everything is said in parables</span></span> <span class="text Mark-4-12" id="en-NIV-24336"><span class="woj"><sup class="versenum">12 </sup>so that,</span></span><br />
<div class="poetry top-05">
<div class="line">
<span class="text Mark-4-12"><span class="woj">“‘they may be ever seeing but never perceiving,</span></span><br />
<span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Mark-4-12"><span class="woj">and ever hearing but never understanding;</span></span></span><br />
<span class="text Mark-4-12"><span class="woj">otherwise they might turn and be forgiven!’<sup class="footnote" data-fn="#fen-NIV-24336a" data-link="[<a href="#fen-NIV-24336a" title="See footnote a">a</a>]">[<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Mark+4&version=NIV#fen-NIV-24336a" title="See footnote a">a</a>]</sup>”</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="top-05">
<span class="text Mark-4-13" id="en-NIV-24337"><sup class="versenum">13<i> </i></sup><span style="background-color: yellow;"><i>Then Jesus said to them, <span class="woj">“Don’t you understand this parable? How then will you understand any parable?</span></i></span></span><span style="background-color: yellow;"><i> <span class="text Mark-4-14" id="en-NIV-24338"><span class="woj"><sup class="versenum">14 </sup>The farmer sows the word.</span></span> <span class="text Mark-4-15" id="en-NIV-24339"><span class="woj"><sup class="versenum">15 </sup>Some people are like seed along the path, where the word is sown. As soon as they hear it, Satan comes and takes away the word that was sown in them.</span></span> <span class="text Mark-4-16" id="en-NIV-24340"><span class="woj"><sup class="versenum">16 </sup>Others, like seed sown on rocky places, hear the word and at once receive it with joy.</span></span> <span class="text Mark-4-17" id="en-NIV-24341"><span class="woj"><sup class="versenum">17 </sup>But
since they have no root, they last only a short time. When trouble or
persecution comes because of the word, they quickly fall away.</span></span> <span class="text Mark-4-18" id="en-NIV-24342"><span class="woj"><sup class="versenum">18 </sup>Still others, like seed sown among thorns, hear the word;</span></span> <span class="text Mark-4-19" id="en-NIV-24343"><span class="woj"><sup class="versenum">19 </sup>but the worries of this life, the deceitfulness of wealth and the desires for other things come in and choke the word, making it unfruitful.</span></span> <span class="text Mark-4-20" id="en-NIV-24344"><span class="woj"><sup class="versenum">20 </sup>Others,
like seed sown on good soil, hear the word, accept it, and produce a
crop—some thirty, some sixty, some a hundred times what was sown.”</span></span></i></span></div>
</blockquote>
<br />
<br />
<img align="left" src="http://i273.photobucket.com/albums/jj227/ewhites/HowsMySonSignature-1.jpg" style="border: 0;" />Debby of Oxycontin and Opiate Addiction: A Mother's Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14881167853310152283noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8452076560635353634.post-86180940679330540512015-07-07T10:42:00.001-07:002015-07-07T15:29:41.995-07:00How Is My Son Doing? Wonderful! Thank you, Obama Care for his sobriety!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
There is nothing wrong with my camera. This is a photo that I took of my son, just two weeks ago. I still want to keep his face and real name anonymous. He is tall, and tan and at a healthy weight for his height. Halleluiah! <br />
<br />
I took this photo of him in Texas, just two weeks ago. Yes, my son has moved from the California town where he was born and raised-- and has moved to apprentice to be an electrician!<br />
<br />
While in Texas, I visited a friend of mine. She has a blog about a totally different topic-- her struggle to have a baby. She asked me if I still had my son's blog. I hesitated, and answered "yes", but I just can't find the strength to go there. She immediately understood. You see, after years of losing two babies that never made it to full gestation, she is now the mother of a beautiful four year old. We have both found our prayers answered, and now it's difficult to revisit our past.<br />
<br />
My son is clean and sober, amen. It will be almost three years and the process has been very long and hard. If you just happened to stumble across this blog, and this is the first post you are reading-- I sincerely pray that this post will give parents and addicts hope.<br />
<br />
My son was really strung out, at one time. He never looked the stereo-type of a heroin addict. He was a functioning addict, and also very likeable. He wasn't a thief, either. Unfortunately, he took one of the biggest risks by becoming a small-timer dealer, that helped him to support his habit. Mama isn't proud of that, one bit. I still thank God, every day, that he never got caught. Otherwise, he'd be in prison to this day.<br />
<br />
He was in rehab twice, and relapsed many times more. He used methadone, to no avail. He used suboxone for a few years. For a while, he had me convinced that this was going to be his miracle detox. I am not saying that suboxone is bad! I think this was the beginning of his journey back to being clean and sober and I truly believe this is a better choice than methadone. <br />
<br />
It is Obama Care that was the turning point for my son. When he could no longer be on our insurance, he had to switch over to Obama Care. Then he was informed that his new health insurance would not pay for his suboxone and neither would we (it's expensive, without insurance, in California). He appealed and pleaded, but they steadfastly said "no".<br />
<br />
So, that was that catalyst that helped my son to make the decision that he was going to safely taper off suboxone. After all, he had no choice. The time had come to face reality. He was scared, but determined. He knew that the withdrawals would be brutal. He started to chat about it in the <i><b><a href="http://suboxonetalkzone.com/">Suboxone Talk Zone Forum</a>. </b></i>It was there that he found a lot of support from people who helped him to get through all the side effects.<br />
<br />
His stepfather and I agreed to let him skip paying us one month's rent, so that he could take a couple of weeks off from work. It was painful to see my son going through the withdrawals, but he had a doctor who helped to prescribe some meds to help him get through it. He was vomiting, had the shakes and chills, and those horrible cramps that he said he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy.<br />
<br />
But, he made it!<br />
<br />
With B's 100% organic sobriety-- no pills of any kind, no shots, no vivitrol... just waking up, each day, not thinking about his next fix.. I began to see my son emerging as his true self, and I began to like this person so much more. No, I began to LOVE him even more. He began to make a circle of entirely new friends-- and his new best friend doesn't drink or smoke. I could hear the joy in my son's laughter coming back. He was free!<br />
<br />
To make a very long story short, he met someone who lived in Texas through online gaming. This person is a an electrician with years of experience. He told my son that he had more work than he knew what to do with. So he offered my son a chance to move there, and that he would apprentice him.<br />
<br />
When he asked me what I thought, I said "do it"! (Of course, his step dad and I investigated this person, to make sure he was legit.) Three months later, we helped him pack up his few belongings and waved goodbye as he drove off to Texas-- sight unseen. I grieved for several days, but I also knew that it was time to let my son be a man. I felt, in my heart, he was ready to be on his own.<br />
<br />
The good news is, that he loves where he's at. His "mentor" is married with children and 7 years older than B. We liked him, when we met him, and found his family to be wholesome nice people.<br />
<br />
My son scored a really nice cottage where he lives alone. Because B never went to college (he dropped out a month after starting) so his stepfather and I are helping him out with expenses to help him get started with his new career. I felt confident that my son was happy he had moved away, and that he was going to stay there for at least four years... which is how long it will take him to be a Journeyman.<br />
<br />
Two weeks ago, we flew to Texas to visit B. He was tan, and had gained weight (which he desperately needed to do). He was so happy to see us, and believe me, it was returned in spades. We would go out to dinner, each night, and my son was eating like royalty. It gave me joy to treat him to this, knowing he is currently eking out his living with his low wages. But, he is paying his rent and learning how to fend for himself. That makes this mama very proud of him.<br />
<br />
I have to say that the area where he is living is quite nice. Though it was hot (for June), it's nowhere near as humid as Austin. We bought him more work tools, clothing and a brand new bed. While he worked, that Monday, we took care of getting his Texas license plates. Of course, like all moms do, I filled up his refrigerator, freezer and pantry. I was determined that my son would not go hungry, once we left. He was extremely thankful.<br />
<br />
A few days later, the three of us drove a few hours away to our timeshare (outside the San Antonio area). I drove with my son, and his step dad followed behind us.) That gave me time to talk, one-on-one.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i><b>Mom:</b> "Do you realize that this is the first family vacation we've taken, since you were a little boy"?</i><br />
<i><b>Son:</b> "Why would you want to? I was a real pain in the a$$, and I couldn't leave my precious drugs behind." "I would have been trying to figure out how to use, and you wouldn't find out."</i></blockquote>
<br />
Yes, that's so true. We were on a vacation, free from my son worrying about withdrawals.<br />
<br />
Our seven days, spent together, was so much fun. We all laughed, and at one point, my eyes welled with tears of joy and gratitude. I was watching my son and his step dad interacting as two adult friends. My husband was helping my son on how to fix things...how to take care of minutiae with licenses and insurance. They were laughing, together, and I really felt as though we had become one very happy family. I was so proud of how my husband, who has no children of his own, had become the adult role model to my son that I had prayed for.<br />
<br />
My son drove back to his hometown, as we headed back to the Austin airport. My last words to my son, as I squeezed him long and hard were "See you soon". There were no goodbye words said. I could not look back as he walked to his car. My husband, who is my Prince Charming, held my hand and knew that I was choking back tears. I love my son so much!<br />
<br />
My son now lives halfway across the country, and I miss not seeing his smiling face every morning. My son is now a man. He is a man who has won one of the most difficult battles of his life. He has beaten the odds in the war against drug addiction.<br />
<br />
Through all that I have been through, I have grown a heart of compassion towards addicts. I have a much better understanding that beating addiction isn't about willpower. My son has helped me to understand that the fear and pain and misery of withdrawal was the main reason that he kept relapsing. He had to make that choice, and truly want to be done with that miserable way of life. He had sold everything he owned, and had nothing to show for it. He was sick and tired of being sick and tired. He was ready.<br />
<br />
As a parent, I finally learned that I could not fix HIS problem. I had to learn that I could not, as much as I wanted to, shield my son from his addiction. I could not blame myself, either. I had to learn that, no matter how much I loved my son, I could not trust anything he said or promised me. I had to learn to set boundaries and to not enable his addiction.<br />
<br />
During this painful ordeal, I grew much closer in my relationship to God. I began to pray harder and more often than I ever had. I found a family of parents who were going through this via this blog. This ordeal threatened to come between my husband and me. In the end, it only strengthened our marriage.<br />
<br />
Today, I can say that my son is a drug addict who is completely clean and sober. He says that he has absolutely NO desire to use. None, whatsoever. He says that on job sites, there are addicts fresh out of jail-- and that constructions sites are one of the few places that former inmates can find work. He says that he gets angry if propositioned to buy or use drugs and that they stay away from him.<br />
<br />
Secretly, my fantasy is that he will become really good as an electrician-- and that he will return to his hometown again. I pray that he will find a woman who will love him for who he is. One day, if he chooses to, he will have a family and a good career to support them.<br />
<br />
Of course, I 'd love to have my son quit smoking. He's into vaping, and smoking black & white cigars (with his boss). I realize that addicts need<i> something </i>and that smoking is a habit they find difficult to give up. Still I continue to hope that he will. <br />
<br />
In the meantime, I'm booking his ticket to fly home for Christmas-- as my gift to him and us.<br />
<br />
I have a feeling I will be visiting Texas again. I'm so very proud of him. But, I give all the glory to God for his grace and mercy.<br />
<br />
Yes, your child can find sobriety. It can be done.<br />
<br />
My son is living proof.<br />
<br />
I will try to post more often, but no promises. This does open up a lot of painful memories, but the joy I feel at my son's new life helps me to come here and share.<br />
<br />
I do read your emails and comments-- and I thank you so much for your encouragement and support.<br />
<br />
May those of you who are feeling overwhelmed and hopeless against the darkness of addiction find comfort through Him. He loves us all.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<img align="left" src="http://i273.photobucket.com/albums/jj227/ewhites/HowsMySonSignature-1.jpg" style="border: 0;" />Debby of Oxycontin and Opiate Addiction: A Mother's Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14881167853310152283noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8452076560635353634.post-51181434067635055092014-12-31T13:25:00.003-08:002014-12-31T13:36:31.684-08:00The last of 2014 - I'm still around, and checking in<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Gosh, it's been seven months since I've posted on this blog! I had comments to moderate and post, from months ago-- my apologies. (I leave comment moderation turned on, because the spammers love to attack blogs with the keywords "drugs" or "oxycontin" or "heroin" in them. ) <br />
<br />
I was just thinking about how 2014 has been for me, my husband, marriage, job-- and not least of all, my son. I am filled with so much gratitude for so many things. This blog is really all about my son, and his drug addiction, so that's what I'll update about. I have no idea if anyone is still following my blog, because I've been so scarce. But, here goes:<br />
<br />
"B" is almost three years completely clean, and over one year of no methadone and no suboxone. He is <i>organically</i> clean, and I'm ecstatic about that. Ironically, it's Obama Care that made my son make the decision to get off suboxone. His Obama Care insurance wouldn't pay for it, and he couldn't afford it-- and we weren't going to pay for it.<br />
<br />
B went through the detox, under the care of a physician-- who specializes in addiction. Obama Care did pay for that, amen. It's been a while, and my son isn't around to ask-- but, as I recall, it took a couple of weeks and a LOT of cigarettes (and I am not a smoker at all). B was amazed at how good he began to feel, and he says he was 100% ready to not rely on prescriptions to help control his cravings. He made it!<br />
<br />
Fast forward to right here and now. I have my son back. He has matured into a 26 year old adult male, who is very respectful to me and his step dad. He is still living at home, but he is paying us rent. He never complains, and never misses rent. He is cheerful, helpful and he makes me laugh. He is my world, and I love him so very much.<br />
<br />
I am so thankful to have my son back. Our relationship has been completely restored. B talks less and less about drugs... not even joking about it as much as he used to. In other words, he has stopped glorifying his drug dealing/drug using "hey day" stories that I got tired of hearing.<br />
<br />
B also has an entirely different group of friends. His new best friend doesn't smoke or drink. He's a nice guy, and very responsible. B is still into online gaming, but that's toned down quite a bit. I'm happy to see him going out, at night, to hang out and watch football with his friends, or going to the movie theater. At last, he has a normal social life.<br />
<br />
He's pretty much quite smoking cigarettes. He's got one of those e-Cigarette "vape" gadgets. He's down to almost no nicotine. I'm still not thrilled, but it beats finding a coffee can of overflowing cigarette butts in our backyard. I continue to pray that he will completely quit smoking. <br />
<br />
My son has been offered an opportunity to move to Texas to apprentice as an electrician. He doesn't have a wife or girlfriend. He's been at the same job for 3 years, that doesn't offer any kind of benefits. So, I said "go for it"! Learning a trade like that would be wonderful for him. He has never been outside of California (save for a 5 day trip where we flew to Phoenix for a golf camp...when he was 12). If he doesn't like Texas, he can always come home. So, he is talking about leaving in February. Already, I'm feeling a sense of panic of letting my son go. I have grown to love his company, and he's a perfect roommate. But, I know it's time to let my bird fly away. <br />
<br />
What give gives me added comfort is that he can move without trying to find out where the closest methadone clinic is. He doesn't have to find a doctor to keep prescribing suboxone.... my son is free!<br />
<br />
Emails still trickle in to me, from heart-broken parents and families of addicts. They ask me what they can do-- and it makes me sad to respond "you can't do anything to make them change their addict behavior". I continue to tell them to educate themselves about addiction. Find a good support group. Learn about manipulation, because that's what addicts are so good at. <br />
<br />
My son made the decision to get clean, when he hit <i>HIS</i> rock bottom. He had sold everything he owned (including hsi good clothes) to support his heroin habit. He said he was sick to his stomach trying to keep up with his lies-- and knowing I was growing less and less able to be manipulated.<br />
<br />
In keeping things real, I remind myself that my son will always be an addict. There always remains that possibility that months, years or decades from now, that he might succumb into using again. But, I remain hopeful that my son remembers the misery that his addiction put him through. He admits, now, how his addiction robbed him of any kind of joy or peace in his life. He swears he has no desire to use, nor has any cravings at all. Amen to that!<br />
<br />
My heart goes out to those who are still struggling with addiction. I especially think about, and pray for, those families who are feeling that sense of helplessness and worry. Just recently, my son made me aware that our neighbors (across the street) had a son who was using. B said he could hear horrible family fights, late at night. He said that "sketchy" cars were arriving late at night (his bedroom window faces the street), and he told me that he was 100% positive drug deals were going on. The parents are still in total denial. It's such a long story, but one day, one of our neighbors called the sheriff because she got tired of all the strange comings and goings from people who didn't live in the house. The sheriff found a young man with heroin on him, INSIDE the house. (NOTE: why in the world would the parents allow their drug addict son to have his friend staying at their home?) The son was on probation, and also had drugs on him. They were arrested, and I have no idea what's happened. Peace has once again, descended on our block (and we live in a quiet, gated community).<br />
<br />
I was very tempted to go over and talk to the parents, who are so obviously co-dependent and in denial. Then, I thought better of it. I don't think they wanted to hear my story. Maybe. One day.<br />
<br />
So, that brings me back to why I keep this blog online-- though I don't post every often, anymore.<br />
<br />
If my story can help just ONE person to have an epiphany-- by reading my own journey, from scared and ignorant mom of a drug addict... to woeful and frightened mom...to educated mom... to "Tough Love" mom... and to know that it is possible for an addict to become clean... if I can lift just ONE person's hope, then this is all worth it.<br />
<br />
It is my sincerest prayer that 2015 will be a year for renewed hope in each and every one of your lives. While Christianity is under attack now, more than ever, I still remain a firm and sincere believer in Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior. I believe that my faith and trust in God held me up through those very painful chapters in my life. I give God 100% of all the glory that my son is clean and sober, and doesn't have a criminal record. That, in and of itself, is a miracle.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<img align="left" src="http://i273.photobucket.com/albums/jj227/ewhites/HowsMySonSignature-1.jpg" style="border: 0;" />Debby of Oxycontin and Opiate Addiction: A Mother's Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14881167853310152283noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8452076560635353634.post-74361825777323912802014-05-11T11:56:00.002-07:002014-05-11T17:41:35.314-07:00Mother's Day Reflections on my son-- the drug addict and a wonderful and hopeful update on him!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Today, I wrote a tribute to my own mother, who passed on to heaven in 2002, and shared it on my personal facebook. Our relationship wasn't quite as loving as I wish it could have been. There are times when I read magazines articles, that features a shot of a mother and daughter posing cheek-to-cheeck. They are each other's best friends.<br />
<br />
I didn't quite have that, growing up. My mother was a good mother, mind you.
I have no doubt that she loved me, and my two brothers. In some ways, she was a victim of her own childhood. It took many years for me to fully appreciate how a beautiful young teenager's life was affected by growing up in a Bavarian town that was bombed by the Americans during World War II. I cannot imagine the horrors of war that my mother witnessed. She didn't have a good relationship with her own mother, and was raised by her grandmother-- whom she loved. My mother ended up marrying an American soldier, who promised her the moon and the stars, as she followed him to the United States. My father didn't quite deliver those promises. He also surprised her with plenty of punches, slaps and both verbal and physical abuse. I began to realize that this explained why my mother was such an angry women and why she would take it out on her kids, whom she truly loved. She had no problem hitting me with cooking spoons, rug beaters or her fists. Consequently, I developed an inner rage and (misguided) hatred towards my mother. <br />
<br />
All of these things left scars in my life. Fortunately, today, I have found healing and forgiveness-- and even redemption, by the faith that I found in Jesus Christ in 1996. Today, I can fully appreciate the sacrifices that my mother made to make sure that her three children were well educated, fed, and clothed when she finally divorced my father when we were young teenagers. 'Nuff said on my own childhood, because I want this post to speak to the mothers (and fathers) of drug addicts.<br />
<br />
While my postings have become fewer and farther in between, I still receive occasional emails from parents of all walks of life-- police officers, teachers, lawyers, secretaries... you name it, I've read their tragic and desperate stories. I feel powerless to give them the hope and solutions that they so desperately need. I can only empathize and I try to share my journey through this blog. <br />
<br />
When I first discovered that my son had a drug addiction problem, in 2008, I had absolutely no idea! I missed every single warning, every single red flag and I felt like a failure as a mother. Can you identify with that?<br />
<br />
In retrospect, I missed a lot of the obvious signs that there was trouble brewing. His school grades had plummeted. His attendance was becoming sporadic. Following in my mother's footsteps, my 17 year marriage to B's father collapsed. B's father and I had totally different parenting styles. My son learned to take advantage of this. His father would excuse his absences, blame the teachers for his failing grades. I, on the other hand, found myself overwhelmed with trying to keep my business alive, eeking by a living and barely able to pay my bills. The bill collectors were beginning to circle above my head, and my son was giving me a hard time. I can remember my anger and resentment towards my son's teenage behavior. I felt like I had lost control and at times, I was just too tired to battle with him. At times, I think I just wasn't there for him. Self-blame, I know.<br />
<br />
My mother was a very opinionated and judgmental woman. As a result, I inherited a lot of her traits. I used to judge other parents whose kids had gone down the road of perdition. When a very close friend's son was charged with murder, by shooting a teenager at party that had gotten out of control-- and worse, "gang charges" were added to the mix-- my first thought was "Well, it's her fault. She was too busy working and wasn't keeping a close enough eye on the boy."<br />
<br />
I was so wrong. I was too quick to judge that mom. I take it all back, and I'm sorry. She did everything she could, as best as she could. Her son, simply got caught up with the wrong friends. He was in the wrong place, at the wrong time. He had never been in trouble before. He had a 4.0GPA. He says things "just happened". Only God knows the total truth, but I have relinquished my judgement attitude towards his mom. Her heart is broken, and he won't get out of prison for at least 25 years. <br />
<br />
I know a Christian family where the parent have been blissfully married for 35 years. They have three children, who have all grown up to be strong in their faith in God. One even married a preacher! They are all college graduates, and truly very beautiful and handsome young adults, now. This mother posts a lot of photos of her kids, on Facebook. I see photos of her walking, hand-in-hand, with her financially successful husband. They're in Italy, or some exotic island. I see the videos of her beautiful young grand children, and her pride in them sometimes makes me feel envy. Then, I remind myself, that's very wrong. I should be very happy for them.<br />
<br />
I work with a woman who has three children. They are agnostics. But, their kids are very similar to the Christian family. They're wonderful young adults and the family is very close. I call them her "stepford children".<br />
<br />
Why do some children turn out to be so "perfect", yet, I know families with similar dynamics, and their children take a completely different path? One of my pastors experienced this himself. My son kept telling me that his daughter is an alcoholic and drug addict. He went to school with her, and said they crossed into the same circles of addiction. A few years later, this pastor stood before all of us and shared that they just found out the depths of their daughter's addiction. He shared, with tears in his eyes, how they received an emergency call and found their daughter completely strung out-- with pills and empty bottles of alcohol in her bedroom. Praise God, she is also clean and sober for one year. <br />
<br />
So, you see? Drug addiction hits all walks of life. Addiction takes no prisoners.<br />
<br />
Six years later, I have learned to stop blaming myself. Sometimes, my memory dredges up some incidents where I wish I had handled things differently. Why didn't I search my son's closet and backpack? My son says I would have found his stash. He says he had thousands of dollars hidden, from his drug dealing days. (Did he? Is he exaggerating? I don't know...) But, what then? How would I have handled it? Would I have gotten angry and grounded him? Would I have had the courage to call the cops on him?<br />
<br />
Was my divorce part of the reason my son "self-medicated"? Did I destroy my son's self-esteem when I'd lose my temper and yell at him? Yes, the behavior I experienced from my parents did affect the way I parented my son. I wince, when I look back at those moments.<br />
<br />
For me, the changing point in my life, was the day that I realized I believed that God is real. I began to read the bible, from A-Z and to study the word. I began to, earnestly, seek the truth and I discovered that there is plenty of evidence that validates the truth of scripture. It's been a difficult battle, because once someone proclaims their faith in Jesus, I had to learn to defend those who considered me to be -- well, let's see... on this blog I've been named "a fool... misguided...stupid..f$$$ed up". Fortunately, I've grown a thick skin, and so I just let them throw that stuff at me, and it slides right off.<br />
<br />
I regret that neither one of my parents learned the healing that comes with forgiveness. My father's rage came from being sexually abused as a child, plus the horrors of war he experienced fighting the Japanese in World War II. It really messed him up. If only my mother had learned to forgive her parents of their own parental failures, and my father for how he treated her-- her rage might've been diffused. I believe that her anger robbed her of truly enjoying life as it was meant to be.<br />
<br />
As for me, God taught me the power and healing that comes with forgiveness. I learned to forgive both of my parents, and I did not use the physical violence on my own son that I endured. That cycle is now broken. Amen. <br />
<br />
I'm so thankful that I was "saved" in 2006. Otherwise, when my son's drug addiction came into our lives-- like a Category 5 hurricane-- I doubt that my life would not have changed for the better because of it.<br />
<br />
Yes, that's right. My son's drug addiction made me a better person, friend, wife and mother. My son's addiction tested my marriage to B's stepfather. We survived, by the Grace of God. C has been a supportive stepparent, and I love him all the more for it.<br />
<br />
I have learned that my judgment on other parents was very, very wrong. I have grown far more compassionate towards trouble teens, which works out perfect for the career path that God put me in. Since 2006, I now work in the counseling office at a public high school!<br />
<br />
The way that I talk to my son has changed, dramatically. That "willful" and bossy tone that I learned from my mother, has been leashed. I no longer resort to raising my voice to my son, when I'm angry. That doesn't mean I don't try to share my advice, from my own experience. Of course, he's now 25 years old, and that wouldn't work anyway!<br />
<br />
Am I a perfect mom now? No, not at all. Sometimes, my own self-doubt creeps into my thoughts, where I question where I went wrong in raising my son. Despite these times of self-doubt, my son does know this... he knows that I love him. I still think I share some blame, but he reminds me that it was his choice to use drugs. He reminds me that I didn't force him to take those first pills, or to buy the heroin. <br />
<br />
Other than seeing our own drug addicted child (no matter what their age) in the throes of withdrawal, or know they are incarcerated (thank you, God, this never happened to my son) -- or, the worst of all-- losing your own child's life to drugs or alcohol addiction--<br />
<br />
Well, the worst part of this ordeal, for me was having to kick my son to the curb in the hopes that he would hit rock bottom. For me, that was the most painful part of all. As a loving mother, how can the "rehab experts" advise me that I needed to cut my son off and let the consequences fall onto him?<br />
<br />
This goes against the nature for any mother! It is in my DNA to protect and nurture my son. When I think back to the day that I had to tell my son to pack his things and leave, the pain resurfaces. I couldn't even look at his room. My wonderful husband (B's stepfather) packed up his things, so I wouldn't see them.<br />
<br />
I digress.<br />
<br />
Today, my son is truly clean and sober! Six weeks ago, he quit taking suboxone, under the guidance of a physician. Obamacare was the catalyst for this. My son switched over to Obamacare and they will not cover the cost of suboxone. His boss agreed to give him 2 weeks off work (without pay). He packed up all of his prescriptions for anxiety, sleeplessness and the suboxone and asked us to get rid of it. He asked us to, no matter how much he begged, not give it to him.<br />
<br />
He went through about two weeks of hell (which took a total of 3 weeks off work), but with the help of <a href="http://www.suboxonetalkzone.com/suboxones-complicated-relationship-with-traditional-recovery/"><i><b>Dr. Junig</b></i></a> and his website "<a href="http://www.suboxforum.com/"><i><b>Suboxone Forum</b></i></a>", B was able to get the support that he needed. B weighed 129 pounds, at 6'4. He says the suboxone made him feel listless and he didn't really eat much. I was really worried for him, as his cheeks looked sunken in and his long legs looked so bony.<br />
<br />
Today, he is up to 147 pounds, lifting weights, and eating like a horse. His skin looks healthy, and he's beginning to have a social life. He's doing far less online "gaming" and spending more time voraciously reading books.<br />
<br />
I got an early Mother's Day present, last Thursday. B showed up at my office (for the first time in 3 years) and I couldn't help but "show him off" by re-introducing him to my co-workers. The last time they saw B, he was strung out and covering his face with a hoodie. This time, he was dressed in his work clothes, and he was personable and I was so proud of him.<br />
<br />
B and I both know that my son isn't cured of his addiction. He says that he has absolutely no cravings for drugs. On occasion, he suffers from "<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Post-acute-withdrawal_syndrome"><i><b>PAWS</b></i></a>" and has hot flashes and then cold shivers. He has lost touch with all the "friend" connections that he used with.<br />
<br />
Best of all, I am slowly seeing my son developing an awareness of responsibility. He's beginning to understand the importance of being financially responsible, and he's sharing his hopes and dreams for the future. When he is ready, I hope that one day, a women would love my son for the person that he is-- and that she will become like a daughter to me. But, that can wait. My son's recovery is what's most important to me.<br />
<br />
This is the best Mother's Day that I could ask for. That you, God, for setting my son free of the bondage of addiction by ridding him of all the prescription drug "bandaids". I am thankful that I have learned to be a better mother, by learning how to lift my son up instead of tearing him down. I have learned to recognize when I'm lured into being codependent or enablling. I am learning to let my son live his life on his own terms. When he makes mistakes, I cannot fix them. He needs to learn from them. That is not easy for me, because my nature is to teach and lecture.<br />
<br />
I pray for you parents, who are at the end of your rope. Maybe your child is not at that point, of wanting to help themselves. Maybe you are at that point, where you have to kick your child to the curb. I do know that anxiety all too well.<br />
<br />
May you find the spiritual strength you will need. I'm so sorry. I truly am.<br />
<br />
I keep saying this, because I've lived this-- there is <i><b>hope. Never, ever give up. </b></i> <br />
<br />
<br />
<img align="left" src="http://i273.photobucket.com/albums/jj227/ewhites/HowsMySonSignature-1.jpg" style="border: 0px none;" />Debby of Oxycontin and Opiate Addiction: A Mother's Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14881167853310152283noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8452076560635353634.post-34000077654284252762014-02-09T14:44:00.002-08:002014-02-09T16:26:35.691-08:00Visiting my Blog Home Away From Home - Random thoughts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Another eight months has passed, and I haven't written a post in all that time.
I just now cleaned out my SPAM comments (and there were hundreds) and published those comments that were "legit".
<br />
<br />
I'm sorry.<br />
<br />
I've written, more than once, that the reason I quit posting here is because the crisis of my son's addiction has subsided. <br />
<br />
Of course, there are many people who feel that I'm a fool for thinking that my son being on suboxone is sobriety. They say it is NOT.<br />
<br />
So be it.<br />
<br />
This is how I view my son's current sobriety (or un-sobriety for you suboxone naysayers).<br />
<br />
Of course, I wish my son had an "organic" sobriety. I would love it if he didn't use any kind of medication to keep my son from using. That is simply common sense.<br />
<br />
However, let's look at things from my son's perspective. True that, he had a severe addiction. He was strung out and had sold everything he owned to avoid the misery of withdrawal. This was my son's "bottom" he says. He realized that, in his last relapse, that he had sold everything of value that he had. Fortunately, my son didn't have it in him to resort to theft or robbery (for that I am truly grateful) and he finally came to the realization that he absolutely had to conquer his body's craving for drugs.<br />
<br />
Methadone didn't work for him. So, he turned to suboxone. Lest you naysayers judge him and/or me, it is working for him. He is going on four years of working at the same job. He doesn't make a ton of money, but he has money. He bought a brand new X-Box, a new HDTV and he can afford to buy things he wants-- here and there. He doesn't ask us for money, either.<br />
<br />
All of the friends he was using with, are out of his life. He has a very small, but new circle of friends. They don't use, but they do drink--- no differently that I do. That is, we are social drinkers. The glass of wine with dinner, or a beer while watching a football game. Nothing to worry about.<br />
<br />
My son's brain has healed. He is no longer forgetful, or spaced out. He can focus his thoughts, and that brilliant mind of his is back. <br />
<br />
B has lived with us, ever since he detoxed with the help of suboxone. He pays us rent, faithfully, and never EVER complains about it. We are charging him the going rate it would cost him to rent a room-- or share a cheap apartment. We use the majority of that money to subsidize his medical expenses (health and car insurance, diabetes supplies, suboxone), groceries and cost of living-- and a small portion goes into a rent savings. <br />
<br />
Best of all, my son and I have the kind of relationship that any loving mom longs for. He is kind, respectful, thoughtful and willing to help me when I ask for it. The relationship between my son and his stepfather makes me smile with such gratitude and joy. I have watched the two of them interact as two men-- "dudes", "guys". I've watched my husband help my son to learn things that guys should know how to do-- like how to fix things in his own car. My son asks for advice from his stepdad. <br />
<br />
Best of all, my husband tells me that my son is a "good kid" and a "good room mate". <br />
<br />
So, if my son is doing so well-- is it such a bad thing that he uses suboxone? He's cut his dose down by 75%, and has to see a doctor once a month. He has to take a drug test, and always comes out clean. If he didn't, this doctor would no prescribe suboxone.<br />
<br />
Again, I keep praying for the day that my son gets off suboxone completely. B says, it's just around the corner. He was waiting for the slow season to come to his job (now). He needs to take a couple of weeks off work to detox from the suboxone.<br />
<br />
Of course, B and I talk about this, candidly. I've asked him what his plan is, once he is off the suboxone. That is, what will steps will he take to prevent him from relapsing? You would think he'd have some grandiose answer. He simply says, "that last relapse made me realize that I don't want to go back to that again." He says the withdrawals were horrific, and he never wants to experience that again. <br />
<br />
Just like religion, this is a question that has a myriad of answers. I've written, countless times, why I don't believe that NA meetings is the answer for everyone. I went to Nar-Anon meetings, and they did not work for me at all. I couldn't deal with the whining from the same group of people. I didn't find the meetings helpful. In our small town, my son says that NA meetings didn't work for him, because that's where he was most likely to reconnect with people he used with. He says that anytime he went to an NA meeting, someone would ask if they could hook him up with drugs.<br />
<br />
Before anyone gets upset by this, and writes a harsh comment, because you believe that NA is the only way-- please don't. Otherwise, I might have to say that "Jesus is the Only Way" (written tongue in cheek, okay?) <br />
<br />
So, what prompted me to write today-- after such a long absence? Partly it's guilt. I still get an occasional email from someone who is asking me how I am doing... or someone who wants to thank me for sharing my story. Collectively, to "you", I want to say that I am doing just fine, thank you. To those of you who ask me for advice, it takes my breathe away. I wish I had some dazzling advice to give. What I've learned, during this painful chapter of my life, I have shared on this blog. I'm not an expert and never professed to be. <br />
<br />
I have become a much better mom, a much better listener and a whole lot less judgmental about other parents. I no longer assume that bad parenting is why kids use drugs. <br />
<br />
I have become much more compassionate to parents and drug addicts. My faith in God grew by leaps and bounds, during these painful chapters in my life. Not a day goes by that I don't thank God for sparing my son from death, incarceration or physical harm. <br />
<br />
The <a href="http://www.nydailynews.com/new-york/philip-seymour-hoffman-found-dead-new-york-city-apartment-report-article-1.1599537"><b><i>tragic death of Philip Seymour Hoffman</i></b></a> really affected me. That a man, who had so much talent-- and certainly financial security-- relapsed <b>AFTER 23 YEARS of sobriety</b>-- really shook me hard. It was a reality check, that my son has no personal guarantee that he will never use again. He knows it and I know it. My deepest sympathies go to his family and loved ones, including his small children. What a tragic death. Will we ever know why he relapsed? Will we ever know what it was that woke the demon of addiction in him? <br />
<br />
Once more, I am reminded that my son will have to fight the disease of addiction for the rest of his life. For today, I see a 25 year old young man, who tells me that his last relapse wasn't worth all that it cost him. He tells me that he didn't even enjoy it, and didn't really get that "buzz" from using Oxy Contin that he used to get. I pray, with all of my heart and soul, that he will continue to hold on to that memory.<br />
<br />
As B's mom, I choose to forgive and forget what's happened in the past. Today, I can hand my son my credit card to pick some things up for me while he's in town. I don't have to hide my wallet, choosing to leave it in plain sight with money in it. The money is always right there, where I left it. My son no longer sneaks out, in the middle of the night. He is always home, playing on his X-Box, with his invisible online friends. <br />
<br />
In a perfect world, I would love to see him get a better paying job-- with benefits. I'd love to see him buy another set of golf clubs, and get outside for exercise and to play a sport that he is really good at. I continue to invite him to join us at church (the very church he urged us to come to with him, years ago). We continue to counsel him on the importance of financial wisdom-- like saving money (which, for now, falls on deaf ears). <br />
<br />
So, I guess my son has gone from a "using" drug addict to being a typical young man. He has so much wisdom to learn in life. My husband and I are doing the best that we can to be positive role models for him.<br />
<br />
I think some of our wisdom is beginning to stick.<br />
<br />
We will never give up hope. I feel comfort, gratitude and joy that my son loves me. I know he feels the same way about my love for him.<br />
<br />
For those of you who are suffering with addiction-- be it YOU who is the struggling addict, or for the loved ones who are dealing with a struggling addict-- I pray for you, collectively, all the time. I know there are plenty of people who think prayer is useless. Or that there is no God. I've had plenty of comments left, calling me a fool to believe in a God that doesn't exist. Well, that's one more prayer I add to my list... for non-believers.<br />
<br />
No matter what, my heart truly feels your pain and agony. I have lived it. I have cried. I have whined. I have been angry. I have failed. I have enabled. <br />
<br />
I have learned. <br />
<br />
If any of my blog posts gives hope to anyone who reads them, then this blog is accomplishing it's purpose. <br />
<br />
I will try to post more often. I'm here, and I read every single comment. I truly do. If I don't respond back, please forgive me. Sometimes, I just can't deal with the emotions that they stir in me.<br />
<br />
May God bless you and give you comfort, whether you or not you do or don't believe in Him. He believes in you, and loves you.<br />
<img align="left" src="http://i273.photobucket.com/albums/jj227/ewhites/HowsMySonSignature-1.jpg" style="border: 0px currentColor;" />Debby of Oxycontin and Opiate Addiction: A Mother's Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14881167853310152283noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8452076560635353634.post-28547093125989705242013-06-21T07:32:00.000-07:002013-06-21T07:32:38.628-07:00My own experience with Oxy-Contin. I'm serious.Wow. It's been four months since I've paid any attention to this blog. I have no really good reason. The truth is, I've been trying to move forward with my life, marriage, job and relationship with my son.<br />
<br />
What more would I have to share? I'm not the kind of drug advocate that I thought I could be. That is, I'm not involved with any kind of organization for parents of drug addicts. I no longer attend Nar-Anon meetings. Pretty much, I think I've put my son's addiction to Oxycontin and Heroin way in the back of my mind. Like, filed under "past" and I didn't want to reopen that file.<br />
<br />
Then, something happened. After a few years of procrastination, I finally went ahead and had a total knee replacement. This isn't my first major knee operation (same leg). My arthriticaly diseased knee finally made my daily life a battle against pain. Standing, for more than a few minutes, hurt. Walking down a steep hill would blow out my knee. Forget sitting in a theater, unless I could stretch out my knee.<br />
<br />
So, on June 11th I spend three nights in the hospital, after a success operation. What did my doctor prescribe for my pain?<br />
<br />
Oxycontin. 10mg. One to two, every 12 hours.<br />
<br />
My heart sank.<br />
<br />
When my doctor checked in on me, it just leaped out of my throat. "I don't want to take oxycontin!"<br />
He was a bit taken aback. I quickly explained that my son is a recovering drug addict, and this is the very drug that tore our lives apart. <br />
<br />
I'm not gonna lie. The post-surgery has been a daily heavy dose of pain. The physical therapist causes me nothing but anxiety-- though he's the best. Bending my stiff knee, under his trained body pressure makes child birth seem like a walk in the park. I find myself unable to hold back the blood curdling screams. I am begging for mercy. So, I have resigned myself to reserving the Oxycontin for the days he is coming to see me. I also have Oxycodone IR, and I can take 1-2 every 4 to 6 hours. I opt, instead for Tylenol 500mg, no more than four times a day. So far, the Tylenol does a decent job with pain management... except for when the Physical "Terrorist" arrives at my house. <br />
<br />
At least, my fear of becoming addicted was unfounded. While Oxy gives me a sense of relaxation, and eases some of the pain (except for the excruciating stretches), I don't like the feeling of nausea that follows the "come down". I sleep a lot, too. My appetite is pretty much non-existent. I eat, because if I don't, my body has the shakes. You could feed me my favorite gourmet dinner, and I might as well be eating sawdust with gravy on it. <br />
<br />
As I was laying on the bed, watching daytime TV (which I never do) I caught an episode on "Katie" about drug addiction. One of her guests was a 23 year old boy, who was addicted to heroin. His path to destruction was no different than my own son's. <br />
<br />
Oh my God, the emotions welled up inside me. I saw my own son, who was a shell of himself. I listened to the boy talk about how he's been in and out of rehab and still can't get off the stuff. What I didn't hear this kid say was that he wanted to be clean-- with enough conviction. He was carted off to a top level rehab center in Malibu, CA-- free of charge. How I wish this young boy success in his sobriety.<br />
<br />
Next, came a guest who is a 27 year old girl who has been clean for 5 years. She was beautiful and articulate. She shared her journey in her addiction to Oxycontin and heroin. She said <i><b>exactly</b></i> what my son's words were-- the key to her sobriety is the key to my own son's sobriety.<br />
<br />
In my own words, this is the summary of why my son is no longer using. The #1 reason, that my son could not find success in staying clean, is that he was terrified of going through withdrawals. That's what the girl admitted, herself. I can only relate to that moment, when my physical therapist tells me to lay flat, and I feel him picking up my leg that I begin to hyperventilate. I try to talk myself through the pain that I know is going to happen. He stretches... he stretches, the pain begins and then I'm screaming bloody murder! <br />
<br />
My son says that withdrawals are a pain that he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy. If it's anything like what I've going through, I understand. <i>Fear of pain is paralyzing. </i><br />
<br />
Yesterday, I told my physical therapist to stop. I had no more to give. I couldn't give him ten stretches. I had to stop at three. When he relented, I wanted to cry with joy.<br />
<br />
Maybe, for my son, that is what his relapses were to him. Relief from the agony and pain.<br />
<br />
So, when people write to me and say to tell my son to quit "being a bitch" and suck it up-- well, I can tell you that I wish I could the same for my leg therapy.<br />
<br />
We all have different pain tolerances.<br />
<br />
I receive numerous emails from desperate parents and family members-- and they ask me what they can do to help their loved one become sober.<br />
<br />
It all comes back to the addict. The only thing we can do, is to educate ourselves. Try to learn as much about addiction that you can. Take classes. Read. Talk to other parents.<br />
<br />
To see our own child, suffering from addiction, is an emotional pain that I don't care to repeat. Yes, I was one of those parents who helped my son to buy the drugs he needed because he was so "sick". No, I didn't buy the drugs for him. But, I gave him money for some "need" he convinced me that he had. I was in self-denial that the money would go to buy drugs.<br />
<br />
That is so hard, because it is counter-intuitive, as a mom, to not want to help our children-- when they are in pain or danger. I've watched enough Dr. Phil shows, to hear his rebukes that enabling our addicts is the worst thing we can do.<br />
<br />
Reluctantly, I told B that I had Oxycontin as my pain management. At first, he was upset. For me. He began to question my physical therapist on why this was the prescribed pain med of choice.<br />
<br />
Later, B told me not to worry about hiding the meds from him.<br />
<br />
<i>"Mom, don't worry about it. I no longer have cravings. Besides, the last time I relapsed and used Oxy, I didn't even like it. " </i>He also reminded me, that even if he took Oxy that nothing would happen, since the suboxone blocks those receptors of "pleasure". <br />
<br />
While B is still on suboxone therapy, he is no longer using street drugs. B says that he no longer has cravings. He has an entirely new circle of friends. He still has the same job, for more than three years. He pays us rent, never complains and doesn't ask us for money.<br />
<br />
He has stepped up to the plate, and is helping to take care of me. Role reversal. I'm not as mobile as I had hoped-- though it's only been ten days since surgery. I putt around, on a walker, but I'm not gonna lie-- as of today, I regret having the surgery.<br />
<br />
That sounds bad, I know. In two more weeks, I'll be singing a different tune. I just wish I had known that all my old scar tissue, from previous surgeries, would cause my knee to have a 50% decrease is my range of motion. I thought I could endure the physical therapy, but I can't take the pain!<br />
<br />
A year from now, I hope that all of this will be behind me. I visualize myself walking with my husband, without fear of stairs or steep hills.<br />
<br />
With my own son, I still long for him to have an "organic" sobriety. Clean. No prescribed drugs to keep him from using.<br />
<br />
But, you know, this is his own sobriety. I have learned to let go. I rejoice in God's Grace on us. I am so very thankful that my son isn't strung out on drugs. <br />
<br />
Best of all, I have watched my son's true personality emerge. He looks healthy, again. He laughs a lot. He is respectful and affectionate.<br />
<br />
Yes, there is a light at the end of the tunnel.<br />
<br />
I had to make a decision to endure pain, so that my knee would be good as new. My son had to make a decision that he didn't want to live his life broke, and spending every waking moment thinking where his next fix would come from.<br />
<br />
Thank you, Heavenly Father, that nothing is too great for you. Thank you for wiping my tears, holding me when I lived in fear. Thank you for sending people into my life to support me, to educate me and for making the finances and insurance available, to help my son.<br />
<br />
Thank you for reaching my son's heart and for helping him to see that he had a choice to make in which path he wanted to follow.<br />
<br />
He chose sobriety.<br />
<br />
Amen.<br />
<br />
<br />
<img align="left" src="http://i273.photobucket.com/albums/jj227/ewhites/HowsMySonSignature-1.jpg" style="border: 0;" />Debby of Oxycontin and Opiate Addiction: A Mother's Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14881167853310152283noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8452076560635353634.post-87763123604189348312013-02-07T18:42:00.002-08:002013-02-07T18:47:59.224-08:00Overwhelmed with sorrow for parents of drugs addicts-- like meWhen I first started this blog, I was one of those shell-shocked moms. I never, EVER imagined that my son's life would take a bad turn. I was so ignorant about drugs. I mean, I knew about drugs. Heck, when I was a teenager, I puffed the magic dragon-- so to speak. That was in the 70's.
But, I really didn't care for drugs. I never got into dropping acid, either. I guess those movies, that were shown to me in middle school, scared me to death.<br />
<br />
As a divorced mom, I did my best to raise my son with manners. I tried to be a good role model, as a mom. In retrospect, I wasn't perfect. But who really is?<br />
<br />
I never thought about my kid messing around with pills. Honest! I had never even heard of oxycontin, until my son confessed to be that he was addicted to them. Heroin? Oh, c'mon! Not my son! He's a clean cut kid. I knew all his friends. They were all clean cut kids, from nice families. Right?<br />
<br />
Wrong.<br />
<br />
It has been almost five years since I became the mother of a drug addict. There will be no cause to celebrate. While I never expected anything like this to happen, I've had to face that this is the way it is. In a strange way, my son's drug addiction has made me a better person. Wait. Did I really say that?<br />
<br />
What I mean, is that I have learned to be less judgmental of parents. Up until that fateful month of April 2008, I would have told anyone that if a kid becomes addicted to drugs, then the parents failed to raise them right.<br />
<br />
What a stupid thought that was. <i>I was so wrong.</i><br />
<br />
Several times a month, I receive emails from families, or even addicts, who tell me there story. It's always heartbreaking for me. I try to answer them back, as best as I can. Yet, how can I possibly give them the comfort or advice that they so desperately need? <br />
<br />
I'm not gonna lie. Sometimes those emails just paralyze my brain and fingers from being able to write a good answer. I type very, very fast. I love to write. But, these emails-- I just feel so sad for them. Yet, I am honored that they would write to me-- telling me that this little old blog helps them.<br />
<br />
Every single Sunday, as I sit and listen to our pastor-- who is one incredibly gifted speaker-- sharing powerful messages, and helping me to better understand the Bible... truly, I feel so inspired and uplifted. I actually find myself drafting a blog post. I can't wait to go home, open up the editor of this blog, and share with anyone who will read this blog. I want to share with them the hope I've found, in my faith in God!<br />
<br />
But then, it seems that I can't write. I get distracted with wanting to read, or doing chores, or cooking and baking (one of my therapeutic passions). So, I don't write.<br />
<br />
I have not responded to a few emails that were written to me in the last two weeks. I need to do that, and I will.<br />
<br />
I admire Ron, from "<a href="http://parentsofanaddict.blogspot.com/"><i><b>An Addict in my Son's Bedroom</b></i></a>". Ron found my blog, a few years ago. At that times, his son (Alex) was in the throes of his addiction to heroin. I mean, it was bad. Ron was there, for me, lifting me up during my darkest times. There were other bloggers, like me, who would visit my blog. They helped me to get through so much.<br />
<br />
So, I feel a bit guilty that I'm not being like Ron. But, I shouldn't feel that way. Ron has a great way of writing, and I am happy to say that his son is clean and has turned his life around. Yet, Ron continues to share his message at schools and on his blog. <br />
<br />
I am writing this post, because I finally logged on to post comments that have been waiting for my approval (I get too much spam, so I have to moderate this blog.) I'm not going away for good.<br />
<br />
I need to regroup and think about how I can be of some comfort to those of you who follow my blog. To those of you who have written to me, personally, and I have not answered you-- forgive me. I have not deleted your emails.<br />
<br />
I'm going to try and compile responses and post it right here...because the majority of you are desperate, and heartbroken, and you don't know how to save your loved one.<br />
<br />
I know that feeling. I wish I could give you an easy answer. You need support from people who really understand addiction.<br />
<br />
I'm sorry, but I need to end this post, because I have piles of laundry to do and bedtime comes very early for me on work nights.<br />
<br />
My son is almost one year clean. He has the same job. I will say this-- every single friend that he had, who he used with-- they are out of his life. Gonzo. He doesn't hang out with anyone who uses drugs. Amen for that. <br />
<br />
<img align="left" src="http://i273.photobucket.com/albums/jj227/ewhites/HowsMySonSignature-1.jpg" style="border: 0;" />Debby of Oxycontin and Opiate Addiction: A Mother's Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14881167853310152283noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8452076560635353634.post-76335755594469542082012-12-31T09:32:00.001-08:002012-12-31T09:32:14.008-08:00Another Year, as the Mother of a Drug Addict...Out with Old, In with the New<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<i>Today, is the last day of 2012. It's a quiet morning and I finally have some "me" time to sit, reflect, pray and just "be". </i><br />
<br />
Gosh, it's been a very long time since I've written a blog post. I must appear to have abandoned my blog. That hasn't been my intention. After all, I've invested a lot of time, and money (having it professionally designed.) I have poured out my heart and soul, and have documented my experience as the mother of a drug addict. So, why am I not blogging much? I have been blessed to receive emails, or posts, from people whose lives are being ripped apart by the scourge of drug addiction. When I read those emails, I feel so bad for them. I want, so much, to have just the right words to say-- to give them comfort and hope. I'm embarrassed to say, that I've gone silent. Again. <br />
<br />
<br />
I think it's because I have come to peace about my son's situation. It wasn't easy, I can promise you. I try not to do this, very often-- but, if I do allow myself to go back to 2008, I can almost recreate that feeling of helplessness. I can remember the shock and horror of it all.<br />
<br />
My son's drug addiction put a lot of stress in my marriage. I learned things about myself, I didn't realize. My relationship with my son was so fragile, and we were not getting along at all. I felt like I was such a total failure.<br />
<br />
For you-- if you have stumbled across this blog post-- and you are in the throes of addiction...be it you, or someone you love-- my message to you is that there is hope. The best advice I can give, to a person who is watching someone's life being destroyed by addiction is this-- take care of you.<br />
<br />
When addiction comes into your life, it can bring out the worst in everyone. I might upset a few people who read this, but I'm going to make this raw and honest. I was guilty of this, and it shows in my earliest posts. Ready?<br />
<br />
I got caught up in the drama. I became a whiner and complainer. I wanted people to come to my aid, to rescue me, to coddle me, to feel sorry for me. Oh, woe is me! I finally saw where I was going, and I decided that I needed to find a different way to learn to cope with watching my son's life unravel.<br />
<br />
What did I do? I came to understand <a href="http://howismyson.blogspot.com/2012/02/codependency-cycle.html"><i><b>what codependence is</b></i></a>. I began to dig deeper in my relationship with God. My spirituality began to grow stronger and stronger, and I began to find those quiet times of prayer and meditation.<br />
<br />
I also began to learn more about addiction, and I learned a lot of addicts, themselves.<br />
<br />
I began to admit that I was enabling my son's drug addiction and I began to gather enough courage to understand that saying "no" was helping my son to see where his life was going.<br />
<br />
So, how is my son doing?<br />
<br />
B is 10 months free and clear from using any kind of street drug-- be it heroin, oxy or smoking weed. Please note that I didn't say he's 10 months clean and sober. From an NA point of view, he's not considered clean, since he is on a very low dose of suboxone. He is under the monthly care of a good addiction doctor. (Thank you, President Obama--and my husband's job-- for making my son's health coverage good for two more years. Amen.)<br />
<br />
From my point of view, my son is clean. I'll tell you why--<br />
He's held his job for over two years, and still loves it and is well-liked by his co-workers.<br />
B pays $600.00 a month in rent, to us, never once complaining-- and it's always on time.<br />
B has cash on him, all the time. This Christmas, he saved $200.00 to buy gifts. He looked so proud and pleased with himself, as he gave generously to us and to his uncles and cousin.<br />
B has a new set of friends. He calls them "geeks", because they're all online "gamers". <br />
B has matured into a respectful, and interesting young man. He is no problem as a roommate. When he isn't working, he's in his room, gaming on his BIG TV that he bought with his own money.<br />
<br />
As a mom, I'd love to see him spending far less time with video games. I wish he'd go back to playing golf (that he's so good at), finding a career that will pay him benefits. I wish he didn't smoke. I wish he'd save more of his income, for his future. He's talking about moving into his own place, this Spring, with a new friend that he works with. I'll miss him, but it's time for him to be completely on his own.<br />
<br />
But, that's what moms do. We worry about our kids, because we're nurturers.. and dangerously wired to be enablers and coddlers. <br />
<br />
What's most important, is that I have learned to "let go" of my son's life. By that, I don't open his mail. I don't snoop in his room. I don't question where he goes and I don't give him advice. I rest, assured, that he's not using drugs. I know, I know, so many of us "thought" our kids weren't using drugs-- and they were.<br />
<br />
The reason I know my son isn't using is simple. Drug addicts (unless they deal drugs) don't have money on them. They struggle with keeping a job. They look gaunt and unhealthy. They're secretive. Things go missing-- money, valuables. <br />
<br />
B looks healthy, and our relationship has been restored. Sometimes, when he gets home from work, I'm still in the living room. He sits and just chats with me. I love those precious moments. We chat about life, work, movies. <br />
<br />
My marriage is intact, and my husband treats my son as an adult. The two of them get along great, which makes my very happy. It's interesting how our finances are much better, now. I didn't fully realize how my my son's drug addiction cost us. B never asks us for money, now. Halleluia.<br />
<br />
I'm not trying to brag, here. I'm rejoicing. If you're still reading this, I hope that I have shown you that a drug addict can get their life back. It isn't easy, and I'm not fooling myself. I do know that this could all change.<br />
<br />
There are "trolls" out there who have written rude comments and emails, telling me that my son's use of suboxone is just temporary. They have told me that he'll go back to using, as soon as he quits using it. I say to them, you don't know my son. Every person's story is different.<br />
<br />
Bottom line, I have come to realize that only the addict can make the choice to get clean and sober. There is nothing in the world that I could do to make my son realize that he didn't want the life of constantly looking for his next fix. The only help I gave my son, that worked, was to not help him-- and love him.<br />
<br />
I'll repeat that. <i>The only help I gave my son, that worked, was to not help him</i><i>-- and love him..</i><br />
<br />
I am a follower and believer in Jesus Christ. I believe there is a God. I don't worship the Universe, but I worship the creator of the Universe. I study his Word (the Bible) without shame. Without my spiritual faith in God, I would not have had the strength to get through the five years of hell that B's drug addiction put all of us through. <br />
<i> </i><br />
2012 was a good year. It wasn't perfect, but nothing and none of us are.<br />
<br />
I look forward to seeing what 2013 has in store for us.<br />
<br />
<i>May the love and Grace of God, pour upon you. Whether you know Him or not, he knows you. Be blessed, be loved, love others-- and be filled with peace and hope in your lives.</i><br />
<br />
<img align="left" src="http://i273.photobucket.com/albums/jj227/ewhites/HowsMySonSignature-1.jpg" style="border: 0;" />Debby of Oxycontin and Opiate Addiction: A Mother's Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14881167853310152283noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8452076560635353634.post-66381155351018901142012-10-28T17:21:00.002-07:002012-10-28T17:21:46.288-07:00Long Time Gone<div style="text-align: center;">
<img alt="procrastination meter" class="alignleft size-full wp-image-611" src="http://theboomerangkid.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/08/procrastination-meter.jpg" title="procrastination meter" /></div>
I love you guys! I know that sounds superficial, but how else do I say that I am grateful for the emails and comments that you've left for me to read. <br />
<br />
It has been two-and-a-half months since I've logged on to this blog. Whoa! I had some comments to approve and post.<br />
<br />
Where have I been? <br />
<br />
Home. Surfing the next. Cooking. Baking. Resting. Really, I've become such a homebody and rarely venture out. My job drains me of my energy, plus I get up before dawn.<br />
<br />
My son is okay. Truly, he is. Oh, I've received "hate mail" that my son isn't sober, because he's using suboxone. Who wants to split hairs about this?<br />
<br />
The way I see it-- my son isn't buying heroin. He is thinking clearly, now. He is still working at the same place-- almost three years, now. He is paying rent. He has a small savings. He hasn't sold his big Plasma TV (that he bought himself), nor his video games. <br />
<br />
I'll take my son, on suboxone, thank you very much. He says he has no desire to use. <br />
<br />
I have my son back.<br />
<br />
I have been procrastinating writing to all of you who still read my blog. I have so much to say! I've received emails and comments from parents of addicts and from addicts.<br />
<br />
I think I find it hard to log on to this blog, because it sometimes feels as though I'm ripping off a scab, from a wound that has taken a very long time to heal. <br />
<br />
Last weekend, I took my son with me for a weekend in San Francisco. We stayed at a nice hotel. He said it was weird to be so close to the Tenderloin District, where he used to score drugs. For a quick moment, he said, he had thoughts of using-- and just as quickly, he said it was gone.<br />
<br />
He made me very happy, dressed nicely, as my guest at a very swanky dinner. The women loved him! He was polite, well-spoken and absolutely nobody would ever guess that he was once addicted to oxy-contin and heroin. They don't need to know, either.<br />
<br />
I wish I could write more, and I so hope to write again-- very soon. I received a comment from a drug addict who had an ax to grind about his lot in life. He didn't sugar-coat words with me.<br />
<br />
I'll share it next time.<br />
<br />
You know, when people attack my faith in God...or attack how I handled my son's addiction-- I try to let it roll off my back. I cannot allow them to steal my joy.<br />
<br />
You see, I realized something really important, today.<br />
<br />
The key to my joy-- despite all that I've been through-- is that I maintain an attitude of gratitude. I have stopped being a victim. I complain, still-- but I catch myself doing it.<br />
<br />
I remind myself of the things that are so important to me. While my son will always be a drug addict-- he alive, and living at home with us. He is polite and respectful. We have healed our rifts and I have forgiven him.<br />
<br />
I am married to a wonderful man, who is kind and loving. We are thankful for our house, jobs, finances, family and friends.<br />
<br />
I no longer worry about what people think of me being the parent of a drug addict. I will take what's happened as life experience-- and if I can encourage anyone, then none of this was in vain.<br />
<br />
I will never apologize, nor feel intimidated that I love the Lord with all my heart, mind and strength. I do not want to be judgmental of others (though, I battle with that often). I wish I had the gift of ministry, but I have so much to learn.<br />
<br />
My stomach is rumbling, and that means I need to cook dinner. <br />
<br />
I'll try not to stay away so long. I pray for so many of you.<br />
<br />
If I have not responded to your email or comments-- please forgive me. I mean to, but time seems to have kept me from doing so. Time flies too fast for me!<br />
<br />
<img align="left" src="http://i273.photobucket.com/albums/jj227/ewhites/HowsMySonSignature-1.jpg" style="border: 0;" />Debby of Oxycontin and Opiate Addiction: A Mother's Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14881167853310152283noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8452076560635353634.post-89934448271461684662012-08-31T20:19:00.000-07:002012-08-31T20:21:16.556-07:00Pain in her eyes...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBPzbFw8zVgdkjAHFAo5wrSJJ8nOQoYJl2sbQIcn7io6Bo8-LwgT20akUmxegOpXG-IprFNK5qIFKTTD4C3dxxYEwN0UlPqERyTdAbg47WC0NMxgsugDsBIVHEX6v38OOI-wdOsbYWVa_O/s1600/addiction2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBPzbFw8zVgdkjAHFAo5wrSJJ8nOQoYJl2sbQIcn7io6Bo8-LwgT20akUmxegOpXG-IprFNK5qIFKTTD4C3dxxYEwN0UlPqERyTdAbg47WC0NMxgsugDsBIVHEX6v38OOI-wdOsbYWVa_O/s400/addiction2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
For those of you who are new to my blog, I work at a public high school.
No, I'm not a teacher. I work with parents and students, in the business/counseling office--and I love my job.<br />
<br />
I once shared a story, about a student who opened up to me. (<a href="http://howismyson.blogspot.com/2009/09/when-teenager-allows-you-to-enter-their.html">You can read it here</a>.) Sadly, a couple years later, that student died in a car crash. He had been drinking and was high on drugs. I was deeply saddened to hear of his death, and yet I wasn't completely surprised.<br />
<br />
This week, a mother came into the office. I asked her how her daughter was doing-- "A" had graduated in 2008. "Mom" shook her head and my heart sank.<br />
<br />
I clearly remember "A", because she was a beautiful girl... a cheerleader and a great student. She was one of our TA's (teacher's aides) and so I got to know her. Something happened, towards the end of her senior year. I could see it. It was the same time that my son was going through his rehab. In fact, I was very open to "A" about my son's addiction to oxy and heroin. I remember "A" listening to me, and sense she was reaaaaaaally listening to what I had to say. <br />
<br />
Fast forward. "A" is now living in another state. I had seen her a couple of years ago, and she looked completely different. Really different. She had lots of tattoos, and she remarked to me that her "mother was going to kill her" when she saw it. Yep, I thought-- this won't go over well with her mom. Her mom, in fact, is a beautiful woman-- classy. Dresses very nicely. I knew her since she, herself, was a little girl. I don't know her well, now, but she's always been friendly towards me.<br />
<br />
When "J" shook her head, I could see the pain in her eyes. It made me so very, very sad. I wanted to hug her, but I didn't. I didn't want to draw attention to her. She knew.... she understood that I understood.<br />
<br />
I remember that same bravado I had to keep... when my throat would constrict, and the tears felt like they were going to explode. I'd shake my head, and compose myself.<br />
<br />
<i>I can't cry. No, I cannot break down. </i><br />
<br />
It's bad. "A" is in jail, as is her boyfriend. It doesn't look good. Dealing drugs and fire arms. Ouch.<br />
<br />
It's so hard to believe that this gorgeous young woman, in the cheerleader's uniform is facing felonies.<br />
<br />
Her mom said she's had to let go. But, I could see the pain...<br />
<br />
"<b>Let go</b>". Can we really do this? How can a mother, who gave birth to this baby, <i>let go?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I gave "J" my blog address. I hope she comes here to read. She's a smart woman, and in talking with her I can tell that she's pretty much up-to-date on what's involved in being the parent of a drug addict.<br />
<br />
If you are reading this, "J", I want you to know that I have been praying for you and "A". As I was praying for you, I got to thinking that addiction has long tentacles. When a loved one is an addict, it affects everyone in it's path. It's like finding out that someone you love has an incurable disease. It's like a cancer-- you can only hope and pray that the treatment will stop it, and it will save their life.<br />
<br />
Yet, we must prepare ourselves that we could lose our loved one. Oh, how I remember that pain and terror myself. There was a point, where I feared for my son's life. He was hanging out with some pretty shady people, and I was so afraid he'd end up being shot and left for dead.<br />
<br />
I could not fathom the possibility that my son would end up in jail. That never happened-- and, believe me, I thank God for that more than you could ever know. According to my son, he had many very close calls, but he got lucky... they didn't find the "stuff".<br />
<br />
The most painful thing that any mother can be asked to do, is to "let go". To be told that we must hang up the phone, when they call for money... or refuse to bail them from jail... or to not allow them to stay with us-- as long as they are strung out and using-- well, I remember that it felt as thought I had to watch my son drowning in a stormy sea, and I could only watch from the bow of the ship-- and I was not allowed to send him a life raft.<br />
<br />
Today, my son is not using drugs. The storm has subsided, and I can exhale and move forward with my life. My marriage has never been better. My son and I have restored our relationship. Amen.<br />
<br />
I would be lying if I said that I believe "it's over". I'm terrified, sometimes, at the possibility that my son could relapse. It's a possibility, but I choose to live each day with gratitude that today is not the day. Isn't that what they teach addicts? One day at a time...<br />
<br />
I do not want to become apathetic towards other people's plight with addiction. I do not want to forget the pain that I felt, because I want to bless someone with compassion and comfort. I wish I could say or write something that would be the "all knowing answer"-- but I'm just a mom, who loves her son and doesn't have any kind of counseling degree.<br />
<br />
I saw the pain in "J's" eyes, and for a moment-- I was right there with her. I remembered the fear and pain I felt not even a year ago.<br />
<br />
I pray that "A" will beat that demon. I pray to see her looking healthy, with her beautiful face and smile restored. I pray for her to break free of those who are holding her in bondage, and to start her life over again. I have no doubt that her mother wants her back. "J" has let go, to save her. She loves her. I saw it in her eyes. <br />
<br />
I don't want to forget. I want to rejoice in today, and thank God for blessing our home.<br />
<br />
Today, I received another email from a mom who is in pain. Thank you for writing to me. I feel your pain, too.<br />
<br />
May you find comfort from those who truly understand your plight. May you find strength and wisdom in what you should, or shouldn't do, with the addict that you love. May you find comfort from our Abba Father, our God in heaven. Please don't blame him, because this is not his doing. We are living in a sinful world. It's so hard to live a life that is free of sin, because temptation is everywhere. I need my faith in God to help me be strong when temptation comes-- and it does. Because of what I went through, my faith grew ever stronger, as I cried out to the Lord. He comforted me, and restored so many things in my life. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<h3>
<span class="text Ps-121-1" id="en-NIV-16083">Psalm 121</span></h3>
<h4>
<span class="text Ps-121-1">A song of ascents.</span></h4>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="line">
<span class="text Ps-121-1"><sup class="versenum">1 </sup>I lift up my eyes to the mountains—</span><br />
<span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-121-1">where does my help come from?</span></span><br />
<span class="text Ps-121-2" id="en-NIV-16084"><sup class="versenum">2 </sup>My help comes from the <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span>,</span><br />
<span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-121-2">the Maker of heaven and earth.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="poetry top-05">
<div class="line">
<span class="text Ps-121-3" id="en-NIV-16085"><sup class="versenum">3 </sup>He will not let your foot slip—</span><br />
<span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-121-3">he who watches over you will not slumber;</span></span><br />
<span class="text Ps-121-4" id="en-NIV-16086"><sup class="versenum">4 </sup>indeed, he who watches over Israel</span><br />
<span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-121-4">will neither slumber nor sleep.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="poetry top-05">
<div class="line">
<span class="text Ps-121-5" id="en-NIV-16087"><sup class="versenum">5 </sup>The <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span> watches over you—</span><br />
<span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-121-5">the <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span> is your shade at your right hand;</span></span><br />
<span class="text Ps-121-6" id="en-NIV-16088"><sup class="versenum">6 </sup>the sun will not harm you by day,</span><br />
<span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-121-6">nor the moon by night.</span></span></div>
</div>
<span class="text Ps-121-7" id="en-NIV-16089"><sup class="versenum">7 </sup>The <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span> will keep you from all harm—</span><br />
<span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-121-7">he will watch over your life;</span></span><br />
<span class="text Ps-121-8" id="en-NIV-16090"><sup class="versenum">8 </sup>the <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span> will watch over your coming and going</span><br />
<span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-121-8">both now and forevermore.</span></span></blockquote>
</div>
<a href="http://i273.photobucket.com/albums/jj227/ewhites/HowsMySonSignature-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img align="left" border="0" src="http://i273.photobucket.com/albums/jj227/ewhites/HowsMySonSignature-1.jpg" style="border: 0px none;" /></a><i> </i><br />
<br />Debby of Oxycontin and Opiate Addiction: A Mother's Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14881167853310152283noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8452076560635353634.post-59076413112174586912012-08-25T11:08:00.001-07:002012-08-25T11:13:50.316-07:00Too many random thoughts, along the bumpy road. How is my son?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw3RZcPxYr_pQ7UkmhI6yGXlV0_HtQatcP7T0NrxcEJnL9g2RhxM2kDPxkrfNAfpKcHB-HvRnqrC7-pJTJKP08vfZTQ3o99wB9CqQWygQ_TqkTYLSGefkgDxxUxlPIdyOLV1kaVBW6M9bI/s1600/roadbegins.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw3RZcPxYr_pQ7UkmhI6yGXlV0_HtQatcP7T0NrxcEJnL9g2RhxM2kDPxkrfNAfpKcHB-HvRnqrC7-pJTJKP08vfZTQ3o99wB9CqQWygQ_TqkTYLSGefkgDxxUxlPIdyOLV1kaVBW6M9bI/s400/roadbegins.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
It has taken me a few weeks to sit down, log in to this blog and write. That's unusual for me, because writing is my comfort. I do a lot of self-reflection and praying, every day. I listen to inspirational podcasts, like <a href="http://www.harvest.org/media/podcasts.html"><i><b>Pastor Greg Laurie</b></i></a>. I go to a weekly women's Bible Study, to study God's Word, and for fellowship. I go to church, every Sunday, to hear the Word of God being taught in such a way that I walk away feeling inspired and re-energized. I willingly give my tithes and offerings to help organizations, and my church, to help others. <br />
<br />
This blog has helped me to journal, from the very beginning, about how I had to cope with my son's addiction to opiates. For a long while, so many fellow bloggers left a lot of comments to support me... to help me wipe my tears...to offer cyber hugs and to offer their advice and support.<br />
<br />
<i>It helped me a lot.</i> Many of them have gone away, or stopped reading my blog.<br />
<br />
<i>I keep writing.</i> (Not as often as I used to, but I won't go away.)<br />
<br />
I have also read my fair share of anonymous comments who had no problem condemning me, or attacking my faith in God. I've read comments that, pretty much, labeled me an enabler-- or who offered harsh criticism about what I wrote about.<br />
<br />
<i>It made me stronger.</i><br />
<br />
In the last few weeks, I've received comments and emails that have made my heart grieve. I receive emails, on a weekly basis, sharing a parent's grief over their arduous journey as they watch their loved one go through drug addiction and/or withdrawals.<br />
<br />
<i>They paralyze me.</i><br />
<br />
For the last few weeks, I have flagged those comments and emails-- and I haven't approved them, so that they'd publish on my blog. Yes, I do have blog moderation turned on-- because I got tired of the SPAM comments from gambling sites and drug treatment centers. Sometimes, the words that I read makes me feel so sad. It brings e back to a painful time in my life, when my son was so sick.<br />
<br />
This morning, I need to write. The urgency is strong. I've just published those comments. I'm back. For today.<br />
<br />
Where do I start? What do I address first?<br />
<br />
Please know, that I read every single comment. Thank you, to those of you, who pour out your hearts to me. I really and truly do care. I pray for you. Believe me, I do.<br />
<br />
I just received an anonymous comment from someone who said this, "<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
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<![endif]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><i>Your son is not clean, he is still using
suboxone (optiates) every single day. It is not a miracle, its switching one
addicting drug for another...Try stopping suboxone and you will see this
'miracle' unveil its true self. Your son is still a drug addict, just a more
manageable one. praise jesus right?</i>"</span><br />
<br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Sigh.</span></i></b><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">I guess I'll start here--</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Dear Anonymous person--</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">My son is technically not "clean". That is, if your definition of "clean" means that he doesn't use any kind of drugs-- this includes opiates, weed or speed. So, you win on that count.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">But, you see, you don't know my son's story. It's a very long road that he has been on. It started 11 years ago, with smoking weed. It progressed to pills, then oxycontin, then heroin. It progressed to my son being so strung-out, that he came close to death.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">My son's addiction became a cancer in our home. His addiction caused so much drama in our lives. It opened up a very Dark World that I was totally unfamiliar with-- the lies, his constant scamming for money for his next fix. It began to erode on my very happy marriage. It began to cost me money that I could ill afford.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">I helplessly watched my son try to kick his habit. I watched my son try everything he could think of to break his addiction. I was judged, criticized and attacked, by people who either thought they were experts and knew it all--or by people who didn't understand one thing about addiction -- and I began to second-guess my abilities as a mother. </span><b><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"> </span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></i></b>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">I was forced to do the unthinkable-- to learn how to detach from my son's addiction. I had to throw my son out of my home. I had to learn how to say "no" to helping him with money, and I had to watch my son suffer from withdrawals. I watched his body waste away, and worry that a call would come-- in the middle of the night-- with bad news...that my son was either in jail or at the coroner's office.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">So, when my son finally got off the methadone (and I think that stuff is poison, and have nothing good to say about the clinic)-- and went on suboxone, I had to do what works for me. I sat back, and let my son deal with his own addiction.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">My son is being seen by a physician who has very strict rules about being on suboxone. B has been tapered down, to where he is on a very, very low dose. He is nearing the end of using suboxone, and he feel confident that he'll be okay with that. He says he has no desire to use, any longer. Before you judge about suboxone, I suggest that you do research. Dr. Junig (<a href="http://suboxonetalkzone.com/">http://suboxonetalkzone.com/</a>) is a medical doctor, and former drug addict. He offers some interesting perspectives on this. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">So, is it a miracle that my son is on suboxone?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><i>Yes.</i> I have written, multiple times, that I pray for my son to be completely drug-free. I wish that the only pills my son has to take would be an aspirin, on occasion, vitamins and an antibiotic (if he has some kind of infection). Yes, my son is a drug addict. He always will be-- whether he is 100% free of suboxone-- or any kind of opiate blocker. The suboxone treatment seems to have done the trick for my son. He says that all cravings are gone. He has money, at all times. He willingly pays us rent, and he pays his own car insurance, gas and all living expenses. He hasn't asked me for a dime, for six months. Can a drug addict, who is using, do that?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">What I do see is that my son lives a much more normal life than he's had in many years. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">My son said something, last week, that made me smile. He was getting ready for his job (that he has held for two years), and said to me:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">"Mom, you know what's great about being<i> normal</i>?" "I earned $130.00 in tips the other night, and I still have it! I'm going to put this in the bank. When I was using, this would already be gone."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">So, yes, <i>Praise Jesus.</i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Oooops, you were using sarcasm when you wrote, "Praise Jesus, right?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><i> </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">In this blog, I often talk about my faith in Christ. I don't have the gift of evangelism (which Pastor Greg Laurie does.... and he's worth <a href="http://feeds.harvest.org/ANB"><i><b>having a listen to</b></i></a>). I started to share <a href="http://howismyson.blogspot.com/2012/01/sins-of-father-and-mother.html"><i><b>my own personal testimony</b></i></a>, on this blog-- months ago...but I never finished it. That's because someone who knows us, personally, found my blog and was using it to hurt my son. I stopped, because I don't want my personal story to be used against me, where I live. If I ever do finish my personal testimony, you would better understand how God saved me from my sinful nature. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">My point about Jesus Christ is this-- I don't blame God or Jesus Christ for the sorrows in my life. The sorrows in our lives are brought upon us, because there is evil and sin in this world. Those of us who believe that Jesus Christ is the son of God, believe that he died for us-- on the cross-- for our own personal redemption. Because he loved us first. Those of us who have accepted the gift of redemption are now adopted into the family of Christ, and we know that we will be in heaven. In the meantime, we are here, on earth-- to learn, to share the love and to "believe" with all of our hearts. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">A world that is free of suffering is not guaranteed. It is my faith in Christ that gives me the strength and courage that I desperately need-- because I am sinful, by nature. I have become a much better person, since I became a believer. I'm a work in progress.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">So, did I feel offended by your anonymous comment?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Yes, for about five seconds. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Guess what? I prayed for you. I prayed that you would understand who the real Christ is.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">I do not condemn you, either. Because God loved you first.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">What do you know? My writer's block just went away. Praising God does that to me. When I'm feeling down, or under attack, I look up-- and I feel joy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">I'll try to write more often. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Thank you, to all of you who write to me. That this humble little blog has touched so many of you-- it makes me thankful.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">I give all the Glory to God, for He has been good to me. My son is alive. He is happy. The dark grip of illegal drugs has lost it's strength on my son.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">I live each day in faith and gratitude.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"> </span><img align="left" src="http://i273.photobucket.com/albums/jj227/ewhites/HowsMySonSignature-1.jpg" style="border: 0;" />Debby of Oxycontin and Opiate Addiction: A Mother's Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14881167853310152283noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8452076560635353634.post-24806053574800772522012-07-21T10:12:00.000-07:002012-07-21T10:12:05.299-07:00Evil people doing evil things-- like stealing my blog<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3MUikx8OfNhWA3BCktwD-dN-OdDZDc2BdJu8N44CGKtLrtUsH3esJwby9TDTrm5yakiJvOC5A8_cQVKMdv63X5ixmSMl8hXDndj7Y0K1i3tvLtmW11V7xIIzfgXmmKrX5lSWd4CwRta3G/s1600/Colorado.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3MUikx8OfNhWA3BCktwD-dN-OdDZDc2BdJu8N44CGKtLrtUsH3esJwby9TDTrm5yakiJvOC5A8_cQVKMdv63X5ixmSMl8hXDndj7Y0K1i3tvLtmW11V7xIIzfgXmmKrX5lSWd4CwRta3G/s400/Colorado.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
The horrific event in Aurora Colorado is a very painful reminder that there is so much evil in this world.
Now, my own birthday will be linked to our first landing on the Moon (July 20, 1969) and the massacre at a premiere showing of "Batman, the Dark Knight Rises". Who knows why a 24 year old boy/man snapped? Why people had to die so tragically-- so young. A community is shaken to it's core, and parents, siblings and friends are left to grieve the loss of their loved ones.<br />
<br />
While the news is filled with the horror of this tragic day, it is my birthday. I wake up feeling grateful to find birthday cards from my husband, my son, and my Facebook is filled with dozens of birthday wishes. I take a drive, on a beautiful sunny morning, to meet friends for brunch. I spend the rest of the day buying a few things for me-- things that I find "pretty". I can pay for them.<br />
<br />
Later, that afternoon, my husband comes home from work and greets with me warm hugs and kisses-- tells me how lucky he is that I was born, so that I would come into his life. I tell him the same. He takes me to dinner for a prime rib dinner. He looks at me so lovingly, and I know that I am blessed.<br />
<br />
Before we leave for dinner, my son comes out of his room, handsome and dressed in his freshly pressed white shirt, tie and black slacks. He's carefully polished his work shoes. He says "love you, mom" and grabs his car keys. He's headed to his job, that he really likes.<br />
<br />
Life, in my corner of the world, goes on as normal. I forget about the tragedy in Aurora, because my own little world is filled with much happiness. I say a quiet prayer to God, thanking Him for all my blessings.<br />
<br />
This morning, I receive an email from <a href="http://parentsofanaddict.blogspot.com/">Ron</a>, telling me that my blog was hijacked. What? Sure enough, my blog was redirected to some evil people. I won't even share their link, but it's a drug rehab site. Ah, but they don't know that I have a very smart husband. He's in the computer security field. I'm flapping around, with the veins in my neck bulging-- feeling completely violated.<br />
<br />
We google and find out that other people are experiencing this. It's a "widget" that was installed long ago. But evil hackers know how to get into the widgets that are stored somewhere on a computer cloud. Behind the scenes, they sneakily add a redirect code-- and just like that, your blog is gone.<br />
<br />
One by one, we look at the HTML code to each of my widgets. There it is. The evil culprit's code, that steals my blog address as soon as anyone lands on it. We delete the entire widget.<br />
<br />
<i><b>Well, I'm back.</b></i> I received a few private emails telling me that they still read my blog, and I have helped to encourage them. <br />
<br />
Thank you. Thank you for allowing me to bless your lives. I'm back. I'm not going anywhere.<br />
<br />
Life throws us hurdles, and I am thankful to have the love of Jesus to help me dust myself off and go on. I pray for the people of Aurora, Colorado. I pray for the young man who did this evil stuff. I pray for the man's own parents, who must be devastated to know that their son turned people's lives apart with his unspeakable act.<br />
<br />
This was not God's plan. There is so much evil in this world. People forget that this is where the Dark One dwells. His plan is to devour and destroy people. This is where those who are true believers in Christ knows, that there is a better place for us. I will get there when I leave this life. Until then, I'm a prayer warrior.<br />
<br />
May God bring healing to those who need it most. Today. Now. <br />
<br />
<img align="left" src="http://i273.photobucket.com/albums/jj227/ewhites/HowsMySonSignature-1.jpg" style="border: 0;" />Debby of Oxycontin and Opiate Addiction: A Mother's Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14881167853310152283noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8452076560635353634.post-9706846568275540312012-07-18T20:56:00.000-07:002012-07-21T09:42:01.154-07:00Hanging on to this blog-- for you<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0M_Z3ozLMld5EKAZikRazzc9Vsg42-LhPZiUJi_PkkRyS-GdNpMMne56urSqXd6_l3Yv-5wyko1zBVyGdF-zgtoKOcQlgFiINtEf_vj-lri9VG2yzIf8VKRSd0PX6BD1foUNxyCo8tF4p/s1600/keep-hanging-on.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0M_Z3ozLMld5EKAZikRazzc9Vsg42-LhPZiUJi_PkkRyS-GdNpMMne56urSqXd6_l3Yv-5wyko1zBVyGdF-zgtoKOcQlgFiINtEf_vj-lri9VG2yzIf8VKRSd0PX6BD1foUNxyCo8tF4p/s640/keep-hanging-on.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<b>****THANK YOU RON, FROM "AN ADDICT IN MY BEDROOM" FOR ADVISING ME THAT MY BLOG GOT HIJACKED. These people are evil. It turns out that a widget got modified from some mystery planet. I am back!*** </b><br />
<br />
<br />
I have such a hard time to find the will to log on to this blog to write. It's like I'm paralyzed, and unable think of what I want to write about. Have I run out of things to say? Am I helping anyone?<br />
<br />
My son's addiction is in "limbo". It's like, I'm holding my breath. It's been five months, now, that B isn't using. To say that I'm relieved, is an understatement. <br />
<br />
I try to remain optimistic, and my son is a completely different person. I try not to "what if" my thoughts. I am living in the moment. My son is "normal". The friends he once used with are out of his life. When he isn't working, he's on his X-Box with his online gaming. He is on a very low dose of suboxone, and seeing his doctor on a regular basis. He says he has absolutely no thoughts or desire to use.<br />
<br />
Exhale.<br />
<br />
What prompted me to write is a comment that I received today:<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>I found your blog today. I'm 22 my story is very similar to your sons.
Your blog is probably my moms thoughts. My mother and stepfather
recently discovered my use. I've been addicted to opiates for 7 years,
and I've hid it from most of my friends and family when they found out I
said I was commited to quiting, but I wasnt. I quit for a couple days
and relapsed. I relate to your sons lies and escapades. I just am having
trouble seeing a life after this monster. I feel so empty and broken. I
feel so bad for my mother and everything she goes through because of
me. I dont know where to start but thanks to your blog I know I
definetely want to start. I know I am not the daughter my parents
dreamed of but maybe one day I can be</i></blockquote>
<br />
This knocked the emotional wind right out of me. How I wish I could give this young woman a warm and loving hug. How I wish my son could sit down, with her, and tell her what did and did not work for him.<br />
<br />
I still receive private emails from parents whose hearts are breaking. It brings up feelings of sadness that I thought I had healed from.<br />
<br />
I feel so helpless. I wish I had the gift of writing in such a way that I could give someone solid advice, or answers.<br />
<br />
I'm just the mother of a drug addict. I'm a woman who leans on my faith in God, to give me the strength I need, when times are tough.<br />
<br />
I used to blog here, several times a week. I had blogs I'd visit, and bloggers who would visit me to encourage me. Many of those bloggers are gone. I often wonder what happened.<br />
<br />
Once in a while, I wonder-- is anyone reading this? <br />
<br />
Then, I get a reader who leaves a comment about how I've touched them. <br />
<br />
I'm here. I won't abandon my blog. I just don't have a whole lot to write about, because our life is "normal" and peaceful. Amen. I pray that I will never have to come here because I am afraid for my son-- because he has returned to his former life. <br />
<br />
I think the reason that I avoid coming here, is fear of dredging up painful memories. I have forgiven my son, and I rejoice in where he is today. But the pain is there-- enough for me to continue to have compassion for those of you who are addicts-- and those of you who are the loved ones of addicts.<br />
<br />
Hang on to hope. My son beat the odds, and we are closer than ever. I give the Glory to God, and His Mercy. <br />
<br />
<img align="left" src="http://i273.photobucket.com/albums/jj227/ewhites/HowsMySonSignature-1.jpg" style="border: 0;" />Debby of Oxycontin and Opiate Addiction: A Mother's Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14881167853310152283noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8452076560635353634.post-35719903465418697302012-06-12T21:00:00.004-07:002012-06-12T21:00:49.072-07:00Summer Time Thoughts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's not officially summer, but I'm ready.
The school year has ended, and in one week I will be on my four week summer break. Amen.<br />
<br />
Every day I pray with thanks that my son is doing so well. His life is "steady". He still has the same job (two years), and really likes it. He has entirely new friends. B keeps things really simple. He sleeps in, plays his X-Box online, gets ready for work right as I'm headed home from work. He comes home, repeats cycle. <br />
<br />
B is no trouble at all. He pretty much lives in his room, with the big Plasma TV that he saved his money to buy. He's respectful and I believe he's not using. #1 Sign - he has money. All the time. He doesn't ask me, or his father, for a penny. He pays the rent on time, and never complains. His car always has gas.<br />
<br />
I'm not bragging at all. I'm rejoicing. Sometimes, I allow myself to go back in time-- as little as six months ago. B was always broke. I try not to do this, very often, but if I really go back in time-- like five years ago-- I don't think I've ever felt so afraid of anything in my life.<br />
<br />
These were dark times. <br />
<br />
For anyone who is reading my blog... those of you who have emailed me... I hope that I never, EVER forget those times. I hope that my son never does.<br />
<br />
There is hope. <br />
<br />
Though those Dark Times, my faith grew even stronger. I learned to cry out to God, and to learn what it means to talk to God. I learned how to draw closer to Him. I learned how to really pray. I mean, get down on my knees and pray. I learned how to close my eyes and tell God how afraid I was. I learned how to trust Him.<br />
<br />
Every so often, I get anonymous comments telling me what a fool I am to believe in Jesus/God. It doesn't offend me at all. If anything, I pray for that person.<br />
<br />
A while back ago, I started to share my very personal past, that would lead up to my own testimony as to why I believe in a God that I cannot see. I believe in a God, whose audible voice I've never heard. I have discovered the treasures in God's Word, and yes-- I believe in all those "Fairy Tales" in the bible.<br />
<br />
I was once an Agnostic. I once thought that God was all a hoax. I had resigned my life to be one where I would do what I want, when I want. I convinced myself that when I die, I die. End of the line.<br />
<br />
But God had plans. I've been through a lot of personal pain and betrayal in my life. It prepared me for the day I found out that my son was addicted to drugs.<br />
<br />
My son's addiction gave me deep roots in my faith. My son has been spared from a certain death or incarceration, and I give all the glory to God. <br />
<br />
So, if you're an Atheist, and you want to attack my faith-- go ahead! Hit me with your best punch. It won't change who I am. I take that back...<br />
<br />
God has changed who I was. <br />
<br />
I pray that those of you who are feeling so afraid...so lost... who feel that there is no hope-- that you would know that I was once there.<br />
<br />
God is my rock, my fortress, my hope.<br />
<br />
I pray that for each of you. Every day.<br />
<br />
I'm sorry I haven't been blogging much. I'm still here.<br />
<br />
Hopefully, this summer break, I will have more time to write. <br />
<br />
<img align="left" src="http://i273.photobucket.com/albums/jj227/ewhites/HowsMySonSignature-1.jpg" style="border: 0;" />Debby of Oxycontin and Opiate Addiction: A Mother's Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14881167853310152283noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8452076560635353634.post-40340453655974471492012-05-13T16:32:00.002-07:002012-05-13T16:38:29.271-07:00To All Mother's of Drug Addicts...<br />
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To all you Mothers of Addicts,<br />
<br />
I sincerely hope that you family is honoring Mother's Day by giving you praises, tokens of appreciation-- flowers, brunch or a bauble or two. No matter what our addict children are going through, we still love them. Unconditionally.<br />
<br />
At church, today, the message was focused on being a mom. Of course, it would be! It's Mother's Day.<br />
<br />
<b>Matthew 15: 21-28</b><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<h3>
<span class="text Matt-15-21" id="en-NIV-23655">The Faith of a Canaanite Woman </span></h3>
<span class="text Matt-15-21"><sup class="versenum">21 </sup>Leaving that place, Jesus withdrew to the region of Tyre and Sidon. </span> <span class="text Matt-15-22" id="en-NIV-23656"><sup class="versenum">22 </sup>A Canaanite woman from that vicinity came to him, crying out, “Lord, Son of David, have mercy on me! My daughter is demon-possessed and suffering terribly.” </span><br />
<span class="text Matt-15-23" id="en-NIV-23657"><sup class="versenum">23 </sup>Jesus did not answer a word. So his disciples came to him and urged him, “Send her away, for she keeps crying out after us.”</span><br />
<span class="text Matt-15-24" id="en-NIV-23658"><sup class="versenum">24 </sup>He answered, <span class="woj">“I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel.” </span></span><br />
<span class="text Matt-15-25" id="en-NIV-23659"><sup class="versenum">25 </sup>The woman came and knelt before him. “Lord, help me!” she said.</span><br />
<span class="text Matt-15-26" id="en-NIV-23660"><sup class="versenum">26 </sup>He replied, <span class="woj">“It is not right to take the children’s bread and toss it to the dogs.”</span></span><br />
<span class="text Matt-15-27" id="en-NIV-23661"><sup class="versenum">27 </sup>“Yes it is, Lord,” she said. “Even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.”</span><br />
<span class="text Matt-15-28" id="en-NIV-23662"><sup class="versenum">28 </sup>Then Jesus said to her, <span class="woj">“Woman, you have great faith! Your request is granted.”</span> And her daughter was healed at that moment.</span></blockquote>
<br />
If you don't read the bible-- or don't believe in it-- the Reader's Digest Condensed version of what this scripture means is that the "dogs" is referring to the "Gentiles". This scripture really touched my heart and soul. What I got from this, is that I do believe that my faith (and I am a Jesus Loving, Bible Believing Christian) and my persistent prayers for my son have been answered. More importantly, this scripture reminds me that even just a crumb of faith-- and you don't necessarily have to be a devout church-going Christian-- but to just <i>believe</i> and <i>trust</i> and <i>pray</i>-- prayers can be answered. All we need to do is "ask". We cannot receive what we don't ask for.<br />
<br />
As Pastor reminded us-- being a young person, today, is more difficult than ever. My son has so many bad influences all around him. Come to think of it, so do I! Today's generation is so desensitized by profanity, sex and drug use on television, in movies, books and magazines. As Christians, we are under attack. Without my faith, I would be weak against all the temptations that surround me, every day.<br />
<br />
As I bowed my head, in prayer, I gave a heartfelt thank you to God for all that He has done for my son. Sometimes, when I reflect back on the last few years, I know that I could not have endured the heartache and fear without my faith in Jesus Christ.<br />
<br />
My blog has been such a comfort to me-- it became a place where I could vent, cry, complain and share my deepest and most personal feelings. I met some wonderful people, who supported me through all of this.<br />
<br />
Today, my son is clean and he is employed. I received a beautiful bouquet of roses and my favorite chocolates from B. That means more to me than I had imagine.<br />
<br />
It means that my son is alive.<br />
It means that my son has money to buy things--and it's not drugs-- and that he earned that money with hard work, and honesty.<br />
It means that my son took the time to buy something for his mom.<br />
<br />
Today-- this Mother's Day-- I feel an emptiness and sorrow that my mother has been gone for ten years. I no longer have a mother to call, and invite to brunch. Now, I am a mom, and it's my turn. I have to take all that my mother taught me, pick what's best and let go of what isn't-- and try to be a positive influence on my son.<br />
<br />
I will continue to be a praying mom. I'm so thankful that I never gave up on my son. He's made mistakes, and he will always fight that demon of drug addiction. I do believe that he has found happiness and has surrounded himself with new friends, who aren't addicts. Amen.<br />
<br />
Today, I lift up in prayer, those of you moms whose children can't call you-- be it from jail, or that they are no longer with us. I pray for you moms, whose kids are somewhere, and you cannot call them. I pray for you moms, who are just beginning my journey-- for your fears, pain and anguish. I know it well.<br />
<br />
May God give each of you the strength, courage and wisdom that you need to find serenity in acceptance. May your addict come home to you-- and be free of those demons that destroy our joy.<br />
<br />
Never give up. Pray. Believe. Hope.<br />
<br />
God does answer prayers. I know this. I am living it.<br />
<br />
Happy Mother's Day<br />
<br />
<br />
<img align="left" src="http://i273.photobucket.com/albums/jj227/ewhites/HowsMySonSignature-1.jpg" style="border: 0;" />Debby of Oxycontin and Opiate Addiction: A Mother's Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14881167853310152283noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8452076560635353634.post-62772391216857859092012-04-27T22:57:00.002-07:002012-04-27T23:02:18.601-07:00Waiting.... processing... transcending<br />
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I apologize, deeply, that I have not responded to emails in the last few weeks.
This blog is very important to me. The beginning chronicles my very personal story about coming to terms with the fact that my son is an addict. Over the last four years, I have shared my very raw, honest and open feelings about being the mother of a drug addict.<br />
<br />
Please know that I do read every single email that comes to me. I try to answer back, as quickly as I can. I've heard such sad stories from so many of you faceless people. You say you are so relieved to know that you are not alone. I feel the same.<br />
<br />
Something has changed, recently, and I need to come to terms with it. It's not a bad thing about my son-- who continues to do very well in his recovery. <br />
<br />
One thing that has changed, a lot, is that my son is now reading my blog. I knew, all along, that one day he would read it. I hoped that by his reading my own personal feelings, that he would better understand what it was like for me-- the hurt, fear and pain. I'm okay with him reading it, but it does make me think twice about what I should or should not write.<br />
<br />
I will continue to update this blog, because I truly hope to be a place where addicts-- and loved ones of addicts-- can read my story. I'm not an expert, but I am a mother who can finally exhale. My son is alive and well, employed, sober and our relationship has been healed. I absolutely love my son with all of my heart.<br />
<br />
So, what has happened? Someone who knows us is also reading this blog. Sadly, that person has their own pain (as I see it) and has been using what I've written to try and hurt my son. I don't have all the details, and my son doesn't really want to talk about it. The emotions I am feeling will take some time to sort out. I have been very open in sharing my blog to people in my community-- only because both my son and I want to share our story, to HELP people who are going through this. <br />
<br />
At this moment, I'm feeling like this person cannot have enough respect to just let us be. Our story isn't to be mocked or used against us.<br />
<br />
I won't let this person cause me to abandon my blog, nor am I angry with that person. I actually feel sorry for them-- that they are so callous and behave like a "bully". Sadly, this person is a grown adult, who cannot see that my son has worked so hard to overcome something that so many other have failed to do-- change their lives, their friends and find sobriety. All those old friends, who dragged him down, are out of his life. He has new friends, a job he likes and he's becoming a responsible young man.<br />
<br />
I will write again, but I just have to process the new revelation. If "you" are reading this blog, I hope that you will find enough respect to give us the privacy that we need. What I have to say comes out of a caring heart, who wants to help someone. Please don't come here, anymore, if your intentions are to be cruel.<br />
<br />
'Nuff said. <br />
<br />
That is why I haven't blogged in a while. I'll get over it, but I need time to process and to feel uninhibited about sharing some very personal thing about me, and my family-- like I've said-- to "help other".<br />
<br />
Again, I have saved emails I've received in the last few weeks. I'm so sorry I haven't answered or responded online. Please, do not think it's because I don't care. I do. That's why I write.<br />
<br />
<br />
<img align="left" src="http://i273.photobucket.com/albums/jj227/ewhites/HowsMySonSignature-1.jpg" style="border: 0;" />Debby of Oxycontin and Opiate Addiction: A Mother's Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14881167853310152283noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8452076560635353634.post-41069742417050970892012-04-04T10:59:00.001-07:002012-04-04T17:15:00.142-07:00Looking Back in the Rear View Mirror as the Mother of a Drug Addict<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqbDpX-Ls4Cv7vRDBjfwDwUb0AvL-EC6AGXa0i7bYl24w2evH9yD6dMjeIG7mvzlxIml1m5LpIceWL8LPFZukJWR68fvwOICsLxksJ37qY4rOof_NsuR_GJxLajTRkP9VjPC3wcllHdAAA/s1600/Rear+View+Mirror+Sky.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqbDpX-Ls4Cv7vRDBjfwDwUb0AvL-EC6AGXa0i7bYl24w2evH9yD6dMjeIG7mvzlxIml1m5LpIceWL8LPFZukJWR68fvwOICsLxksJ37qY4rOof_NsuR_GJxLajTRkP9VjPC3wcllHdAAA/s640/Rear+View+Mirror+Sky.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>April Fool's Day came and went-- and that day will always hold a bittersweet memory in my life. It was on <a href="http://howismyson.blogspot.com/2008/04/how-did-i-get-to-be-here.html"><i><b>April Fool's Day, 2008</b></i></a> that my son climbed into the backseat of our Jeep, before the sun came up. We were headed north, for a two-hour drive on California Highway 101, to a rehab center.<br />
<br />
Four years ago, I was so naive about drug addiction. I had all kinds of preconceived notions about drug addicts. I tried to bubble wrap my son, the best that I could, as every good parent does. I wanted my son to grow up as happy as possible (which was short-circuited by my divorce from his dad). I had hopes and dreams that B would graduate from high school, and be the first member of our family tree, who would go on to college and graduate with a degree.<br />
<br />
Raising my son, as a divorced mother, was one of the most difficult times of my life. I had just started my own business. I did not receive alimony nor child support. Every day, I prayed to God that I would earn enough money to pay the rent for our home, and my business.<br />
<br />
As my son grew into adolescence, I did all the things that a good mother should do. I wanted to know my son's friends and their families. My son had curfews and chores to help around the house. Though I dated ( a little) I never introduced my son to the men in my life. I vowed that I would never bring a man into my bed, as I wanted to set a good Christian mom example for him (and I did keep that vow).<br />
<br />
Middle School was a tough time for me. B was beginning to show signs of rebellion. That sweet child was becoming bolder with his back-talk. As I look back, I realize that my strict childhood would begin to haunt me. Because I was a battered child, there were times that the overwhelming desire to slap my son was something I had to fight against. I had also made a vow to my brother that we would never hurt out children the way we had been hurt. Disciplining my son grew harder and harder. B tested me to the limits--<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, as I look back, my son would move out of my house when things became too tense. He'd move in with his father, who B perceived to be easier to live with. In some ways, I felt it was best for my son to be with his father-- only because I wanted his father to be that male influence in his life.<br />
<br />
It was during this time that I feel I lost the ability to see the Darkness that was beginning to come into B's life. B tells me that he started to smoke weed, and then eventually used cocaine, in middle school. I had absolutely no idea. It pains me, at times, when I see how I missed these important clues.<br />
<br />
So, high school is when it all began. The pills from a girl. Oxycontin became the first step that spiraled into my son's addiction to heroin. All the while, I had no idea. I knew that something wasn't right, but my son was living with his father-- most of the time. I was so happy to have my son come back to my home, that I think I was living in denial. A drug problem? Never entered my mind.<br />
<br />
Four years later, my son is living with us again. "Us" would be the wonderful man that I met eight years ago, and married in 2006. Only, this time, my son is 23 years old.<br />
<br />
I mentioned to B that the four-year anniversary of my blog was coming near. His response was interesting. "What's to celebrate"? I looked puzzled, at first. Then I realized that he isn't proud of what's happened over the last few years. B stayed clean and sober for about six months, when he left his rehab. Then, he relapsed. That cycle was to continue off and on, until now.<br />
<br />
As of now, B says he has not used drugs for about six weeks. That seems so short a time, and yet it is something to be thankful for. Addiction to opiates is not easy to get a grip on. I knew that my son's odds were not in his favor. He's tried suboxone, and then methadone. I think they helped to curb his relapses, but didn't work 100% of the time. B found ways to "chip".<br />
<br />
I want to apologize for not writing, much, since my son's last interview. I have received a few private emails, and I have not responded. My job is very demanding, so I'm pretty well drained by the time I get home. My son's job schedule has him passing mine, like two ships in the night.<br />
<br />
I can tell you that I am so thankful for the positive changes I see in my son, today. He has held his job for close to two years, now. He seems very happy, where he works. He is paying rent to us, faithfully. He pays for his car insurance. Best of all, he has money in his pocket! Amen.<br />
<br />
So, here goes another clue that totally went over my head. Call it denial, call it what you will-- but my son hasn't asked me to help him with gas money, and he is never broke. What a concept! Drugs robs an addict of every penny they make. Now that B isn't using, he is becoming financially independent. He is proud of the fact that he buys his own haircuts, etc.<br />
<br />
I also know that suboxone isn't a forever kind of thing. The doctor wants to wean him down. But, I cannot try to forecast any kind of "what if"? I cannot predict the future. I can only continue to pray for my son, and so many of you who have shared your story.<br />
<br />
I'll try to grab B for another interview-- if our hours can coincide to do so.<br />
<br />
Many of you want to know more about suboxone. I have a link to Suboxone Talk Zone on the sidebar of my blog. I find that Dr. Junig has helpful information to make an informed decision.<br />
<br />
My pain goes to those of you who do NOT have insurance, nor the financial means, to help your loved get the rehab help that they need. It is disgusting what rehabs charge. My son's 30-day stint cost over $36,000.00. That was four years ago. The ONLY reason we could do this is because we had insurance that covered 90% of the cost. The rest came out of my son's inheritance from his grandmother.<br />
<br />
Suboxone is expensive. I think it's about $400.00 a month, without insurance. Maybe more. Again, thanks to President Obama, my son has medical insurance through my husband. For that reason, his suboxone is "free"; that doesn't include the monthly premiums.<br />
<br />
I hope to find more time to blog more often. It's so hard, because of my busy schedule. My son reads this blog, and reads the comments. I read them, too, and save them.<br />
<br />
Thank you to those of you who send emails to me. I only wish I could hug each of you, and comfort you. I do feel your pain. I've been there, and know that at any time-- my son could relapse. So does B.<br />
<br />
<br />
<img align="left" src="http://i273.photobucket.com/albums/jj227/ewhites/HowsMySonSignature-1.jpg" style="border: 0;" />Debby of Oxycontin and Opiate Addiction: A Mother's Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14881167853310152283noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8452076560635353634.post-82979389513165988912012-02-20T07:30:00.000-08:002012-02-20T08:20:32.042-08:00A Candid Interview in my Son's Own Words About Suboxone, Relapse and Sobriety<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw532XOjckKBRZPHDY08xnbWdyOItUIQ7aX0g7mA2Km0RYnhG9sV_-EUXS8ovCg11QpfQT61SEsUxaJuO4zm2dnvC02lFjO-5Rrz4rcz7L2lL6KdZG-OibBO5NwPUamXNgD34rYoDBNzKT/s1600/BAM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw532XOjckKBRZPHDY08xnbWdyOItUIQ7aX0g7mA2Km0RYnhG9sV_-EUXS8ovCg11QpfQT61SEsUxaJuO4zm2dnvC02lFjO-5Rrz4rcz7L2lL6KdZG-OibBO5NwPUamXNgD34rYoDBNzKT/s320/BAM.jpg" width="302" /></a></div><i>My son is sitting across from me, and I am going to type his own words.He just returned, home, from work and he handed me a cash receipt for gas that he put into his car. He says he wants to be accountable for where his money goes. He has $5.00 left. He says he is feeling better, and had a good day at work. Here is my son:</i><br />
<br />
<b>Mom:</b> <i>Can you briefly explain why you feel suboxone is going to help you with your sobriety?</i><br />
<br />
<b>Son</b>: The main reason, #1, it fills that void...that craving. It stops the craving. It makes me function, just as I would on opiates or as you (mom) would.<br />
<br />
#2. It's a "leash" with a blocker in it. It gives me a minimum 12-hour window to consider whether to use or not.<br />
<br />
<b>Mom:</b> <i>So, what happened? Why do you think you relapsed?</i><br />
<br />
<b>Son:</b> There are multiple reasons. First, plain boredom. I had lost my X-box. I hadn't worked in a while. I had too much time on my hands and I hadn't taken my sub for over 12 hours. Just being in a dark place, at the time, just added up.<br />
<br />
<b>Mom:</b> <i>Why hadn't you taken your sub?</i><br />
<br />
<b>Son:</b> That was accidental. I just fell asleep and I normally take my sub before bed.<br />
<br />
<b>Mom:</b> <i>What happens if you don't take your sub?</i><br />
<br />
<b>Son:</b> By that morning, it had been over 24 hours, so I was feeling withdrawals and cravings and knew that I could technically use.<br />
<br />
<b>Mom:</b> <i>Can you describe that deciding moment to use.</i><br />
<br />
<b>Son:</b> Two Words. F**k it.<br />
<br />
<b>Mom:</b> <i>What did you use?</i><br />
<br />
<b>Son</b>: Oxy.<br />
<br />
<b>Mom:</b> How did you feel?<br />
<br />
<b>Son:</b> About the same. I had enough of the suboxone left in me, that it didn't really have much effect at all.<br />
<br />
<b>Mom:</b> <i>So, why not stop right then and there?</i><br />
<br />
<b>Son:</b> I guess since I had already messed up, I wanted to get loaded one more time and then stop.<br />
<br />
<b>Mom:</b> <i>How long did you use?</i><br />
<br />
<b>Son</b>: A good month, off and on. I kept trying to get back on to suboxone, but could not wait the 36 hours induction period. I kept getting precipitated withdrawals and would immediately run for an opiate to counter-act it.<br />
<br />
<b>Mom:</b> <i>What are precipitated withdrawals?</i><br />
<br />
<b>Son:</b> It's when you still have an opiate agonist in your system... I guess that's what you call it. And, the active drug in suboxone basically boots out and empties out all the opiate receptors, which puts you into maximum withdrawal, times 10. Absolute hell. You won't die from it, but you wish you had.<br />
<br />
<b>Mom:</b> <i>What did it feel like when you took a sub too early?</i><br />
<br />
<b>Son:</b> Imagine ice water being poured over your head...your entire body...frozen. All the hairs on your arms, legs, neck standing on end. Your muscles in your legs and arms start....just.... like creepy crawly...like you have bugs under your skin. You cannot sit still. You vomit, uncontrollably. Shivering, shaking, panic. The panic is the worst part, by far. Knowing you can't do a damn thing about it. Then you (mom) would come home, and I'd have to put on a facade that everything was okay, or go to work.<br />
<br />
<b>Mom:</b> <i>So, what was the turning point to come clean again?</i><br />
<br />
<b>Son: </b>I was burning through my cash, with no explanation. My lies were getting...just, I couldn't keep track of the lies. I could see it in your (mom) eyes. I was really getting dark. My mood was getting very dark, every day. And... you confronted me. And, I saw my chance.<br />
<br />
<b>Mom:</b> <i>How are you feeling right now?</i><br />
<br />
<b>Son:</b> Optimistic. Hopeful. Ashamed. Scared. But, I feel normal again.<br />
<br />
<b>Mom:</b> <i>What did you learn from this?</i><br />
<br />
<b>Son: </b>I learned that I got no enjoyment from using, like I thought I would. I romanticized it so much, thinking it would ...you know.... help me work better, give me confidence like it used to when I was younger...but, the truth is, it did nothing. Subs are the way to go. I wish I had never done them (oxy). They say you learn from your relapses, and I've had a few, but this one was profound for me....how much work it was to be in that lifestyle. It took everything from me, in a manner of weeks. Money, friends, trust and for what?<br />
<br />
I used to function. I lived to use and used to live. Subs negate the living to use and using to live, and instead give me back a normal functioning life.<br />
<br />
<b>Mom:</b> <i>How long do you plan to use suboxone?</i><br />
<br />
<b>Son:</b> Honestly, I'll stay on suboxone as long as I need to. There is no downside to long-term. Like <a href="http://suboxonetalkzone.com/about/"><i><b>Dr. Junig</b></i></a> says, if it ain't broke, why fix it? If these work, then why not? You know...<br />
<br />
<b>Mom: </b> <i>What do you say to people who believe you should just quit everything, tough it out and go completely clean and sober without suboxone, methadone...or any kind of medication?</i><br />
<br />
<b>Son:</b> I'd say hold your breath and see how long before you have to inhale and that panic sensation kicks in, fight or flight. That's what it feels like when that craving is gnawing at your brain. That's what I feel every day-- and if all it takes is a suboxone to stop that, why wouldn't you? It's either that or risking jails, institution and death everyday. Or, how about a diabetic? Could a diabetic keep the sugars down without insulin? Could they just do it with diet and exercise? Back in the day, that's how they did it. Now there's insulin which takes away all that hardship. The point is, is it wrong for the diabetic to take the insulin because it's the easy way out? There's no side effects, is there? Suboxone is the same thing-- it's insulin for opiate addicts. Why wouldn't I take my medicine?<br />
<br />
I guess if you've never been there, you just don't know-- especially opiate addiction. It's a 24/7 nagging at your mind...consciousness and for me subs turn that off and give me a chance at a normal life.<br />
<b>(Mom's note:</b> <i>My son has Type 1 Diabetes and is insulin dependent. What an ironic analogy)</i> <br />
<br />
<b>Mom: </b> <i>Those are the only questions I can think of, for now. Is there anything else you want to say to this reader audience? Or to me?</i><br />
<br />
<b>Son: </b> I'm sorry for all the lies. All the Bull Sh**. But... I hope I can learn from this and do it right. Thank you for all the support you give my mom. I know how much you all mean to her, and for helping her through this and in turn helping me.<br />
<br />
<b>Mom:</b> <i>Thanks, son.</i><br />
<br />
<b>Mom:</b> <i>I just thought of one more question. What advice would you give a parent who is going through this, at the beginning of this horrific journey?</i><br />
<br />
<b>Son:</b> It depends on the addict, obviously, if it's a long-term addict... I think suboxone is the answer. To do an induction at a doctor's office. To at least give them a shot at it. I think that everybody deserves a chance. I know I've had more than one.<br />
<br />
<b>Mom:</b> <i>I just thought of something else? Why didn't methadone work?</i><br />
<br />
<b>Son: </b> Because you can still use on methadone, and most people do. The problem with methadone is...it's a drug that allows you to continue using, care-free. In the end, it's near impossible to kick. Harder than the drug you were trying to get clean from in the first place. I met more drug connections at my methadone clinic, than I did anywhere else.<br />
<br />
<b>Mom:</b> <i>What do you say to those who believe that NA (12-steps) is the answer to sobriety?</i><br />
<br />
<b>Son:</b> I say that I met my best drug connect, ever, an NA meeting during my first stint at sobriety. It can work for some. Most, even. But, it's not a one size fits all program.<br />
<br />
<b>Mom:</b> <i>Would you ever try NA again?</i><br />
<br />
<b>Son:</b> Probably not. Honesty has always been a huge struggle of mine. I need to learn to be honest with myself, before being honest with another-- sponsor and such. NA is the program that demands brutal honesty.<br />
<br />
<b>Mom:</b> <i>What's wrong with brutal honesty?</i><br />
<br />
<b>Son: </b>I've been an addict since I was 11 years old. Lying, manipulating...something I was good at. I did it for half my life and it's something that's not easy to break. <br />
<br />
<b>Mom: </b> <i>How can you learn to be honest?</i><br />
<br />
<b>Son:</b> With practice, I guess. They say "one day at at time". I gotta realize that you aren't my enemy.<br />
<br />
<b>Mom:</b> <i>Anything else?</i><br />
<br />
<b>Son:</b> I want to thank <b><i><a href="http://suboxonetalkzone.com/about/">Dr. Junig</a></i></b> and <a href="http://suboxforum.com/"><i><b>Subox Forum</b></i></a> for their support, without which I would not be here right now. Clean and sober. Again.<br />
<br />
<i>Thank you, son, for your candid answers. I hope that this interview will touch people's hearts, and educate them from an opiate addict's point-of-view. Your comments/feed back are appreciated, and my son will read them.</i><br />
<br />
Coming up next, articles from Dr. Junig, of <a href="http://suboxonetalkzone.com/"><i><b>Suboxone Talk</b></i></a>. <br />
<br />
<img align="left" src="http://i273.photobucket.com/albums/jj227/ewhites/HowsMySonSignature-1.jpg" style="border: 0;" />Debby of Oxycontin and Opiate Addiction: A Mother's Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14881167853310152283noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8452076560635353634.post-22668563616439283352012-02-19T14:04:00.000-08:002012-02-19T17:19:51.285-08:00Codependency Cycle<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiueAHUm-3m9Jq9WIxs979CsaA6lgdXXzSiGQUNVmksgJav1-0B_8HJlSMF-2N8FLusPaZ8FSwUADGfvesuK_7X0TibhHztIBg__fODJHl8wN5wGADap-aoQYi8upxV_GQwRdMjd7xYwesW/s1600/codependency_handcuffs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiueAHUm-3m9Jq9WIxs979CsaA6lgdXXzSiGQUNVmksgJav1-0B_8HJlSMF-2N8FLusPaZ8FSwUADGfvesuK_7X0TibhHztIBg__fODJHl8wN5wGADap-aoQYi8upxV_GQwRdMjd7xYwesW/s400/codependency_handcuffs.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Now that my son has come clean with his relapse, I have heard the whole ugly story. I have learned to sit and listen to my son talk, and have learned to swallow my horror, pain and hurt while doing so. To most people, I appear to be okay. I'm not. I'm devastated.<br />
<br />
To all you moms of drug addicts-- you understand the tendency to want to rescue our addicts. It is so deeply ingrained in us, that everything we have learned from "Mothers of Drug Addicts School" flies out the window.<br />
<br />
I'm trying to write blog posts are that aren't so long. So I have to skip through most of the details. When my son confessed to me, how he slipped back into using oxycontin, the emotions that went through me were so complex-- hurt, anger, disappointment. Then I got hit with feelings of relief, that it's out in the open. Anger, frustration and disappointment came at me, as well. Then, the need to rescue my son becomes so overpowering.<br />
<br />
Now, I know that I can't fix my son's problems. I know all about letting him suffer the consequences.<br />
<br />
But, what do you do when you see your son's terror of withdrawals? This is, I believe, what holds my son back from working on his own sobriety without any kind of drug-- be it methadone, subutex, suboxone or legal marijuana. My son is so afraid of withdrawals, that he works himself up into a total state of panic. I react, by taking on the panic myself. My sirens go off, and I want to help.<br />
<br />
B was terror-stricken that he had 24 more hours to go, before he could resume taking his suboxone. Apparently, this is crucial, or he could go into full-blown withdrawal. His decision was to hole up in his bedroom, take some Valium (and that disappoints me), sleep through it all until it was time to take his suboxone. He was determined to sell his iPhone to get his X-Box out of hock, so he could play video games to distract him.<br />
<br />
I reminded him that he couldn't do that, as his step-dad made it clear that if he brought home his video games before paying rent he owes (from two weeks ago) that he'd be upset.<br />
<br />
So then my son tells me he can buy a used (old model) Playstation for $29.00 and return it within 7 days for a full refund.<br />
<br />
What did I do? I went to the store, where his friend works, and found out it's true. So I "rented" the old game console, bought a used game for $5.00 and told myself it would help my son get through detox in his room. B's friend, who works there, said he'd refund the money paid to my credit card so I considered it a "rental". The plan was to tell my husband when he got home, that night. <br />
<br />
My husband went through the roof, today, when he found the console in B's room. C doesn't yell, but he was very upset. That makes me feel terrible. What backfired on me, is that I told B he needs to come clean with C and tell him all that's been going on. This morning, B was all set to tell his step-dad the truth-- and I was going to tell him about the game console, that we'd be turning tomorrow for a full refund. Only, C saw it in B's room and it hit the fan with me. Honestly, I wasn't hiding this from my husband, as I knew he'd see the charge on the credit card.<br />
<br />
In retrospect, why didn't I call my husband to ask him for his blessing? Two reasons-- I didn't want to have this discussion over the phone, while he was at work. I wanted B to tell him the truth. Secondly, I didn't want his blessing. I just wanted to do it. I admit that. <br />
<br />
Is this enabling? <i>Yes, it is.</i> I'm guilty. Coincidentally, someone just left a comment on <a href="http://howismyson.blogspot.com/2009/09/my-name-is-debby-my-son-is-addict-and-i.html"><i><b>this post </b></i></a>, where I list the signs of codependency. Here's a portion of that list. I have highlighted, in <i><b><span style="color: red;">bold red</span></b></i>, what I think I did wrong:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Enabling</span></b></div>Enabling is defined as reacting to a person in such a way as to shield him or her from experiencing the full impact of the harmful consequences of behavior. Enabling behavior differs from helping in that it permits or allows the person to be irresponsible.<br />
<br />
<ul><li> <b><span style="color: red;">PROTECTION from natural consequences of behavior.</span></b></li>
</ul><ul><li> <b><span style="color: red;">KEEPING SECRETS about behavior from others in order to keep peace.</span></b></li>
</ul><ul><li>MAKING EXCUSES for the behavior. (School, friends, legal authorities, work, other family members)</li>
</ul><ul><li> BAILING OUT of trouble. (Debts, fixing tickets, paying lawyers, providing jobs)</li>
</ul><ul><li> BLAMING OTHERS for the dependent person's behavior. (Friends, teachers, employers, family, SELF)</li>
</ul><ul><li> SEEING THE PROBLEM AS THE RESULT OF SOMETHING ELSE. (Shyness, adolescence, loneliness, child, broken home)</li>
</ul><ul><li> AVOIDING the chemically dependent person in order to keep the peace. (out-of-sight, out-of-mind)</li>
</ul><ul><li> GIVING MONEY THAT IS UNDESERVED/UNEARNED.</li>
</ul><ul><li> ATTEMPTING TO CONTROL. (Planning activities, choosing friends, getting jobs)</li>
</ul><ul><li> MAKING THREATS that have no follow-through or consistency.</li>
</ul><ul style="color: red;"><li> <i><b>TAKING CARE of the chemically dependent person. Doing what they should be expected to do for themselves.</b></i></li>
</ul>My husband is very upset with me, and I feel terrible about it. At the time that I made this decision, I had rationalized it as "not costing anything" and as a way to help my son get through a crucial period to get back on track with his suboxone. I had every intention of telling my husband, but he came home feeling worn out and like he was fighting the symptoms of becoming ill. The next day, he wasn't feeling well, and I had to leave the house for an extended period of time. This morning, B has returned back to work and he isn't here... so things didn't go as I had planned.<br />
<br />
I made the wrong choice, and now I have to deal with my husband being upset with me. This is so hard, because C can make all logical decisions. It's easy for him to see things in black and white. As B's mom, the grey areas take over. I don't want to enable my son, and in many ways I don't.<br />
<br />
I blew it. I know this will blow over, but I need to remind myself about enabling. I'm so quick to see it with other parents, because I work at a high school. I shake my head at parents who bring their high school kids forgotten lunches and homework. I need to get a big mirror and take a look at myself.<br />
<br />
To me, this is the hardest part of being a parent of a drug addict. It breaks our female/mother's hearts to see our child suffer. The instinct to rescue is so strong.<br />
<br />
I'm going back to make my best effort to return to Nar-Anon meetings. I'm kicking myself enough as it is, but I need to admit I was wrong to my husband-- as soon as my defense mechanisms go away. I just need for him to calm down.<br />
<br />
I hate being in trouble. But then, who doesn't?<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">--------------------------------------<b>UPDATE ON MY SON</b>-------------------</div>B says that he made it, and took his suboxone with the recommended 36 hour waiting period. He says he feels better, and is ready to go back to work. B says the reason he avoided doing the interview on this blog is because he wasn't clean-- and he was too ashamed to admit it to me. He will be ready to do so very soon, and I think it's high time (no pun intended). I'm hoping that sharing the truth about what led to his relapse might help others. We shall see. <br />
<br />
<br />
PS: I said I'd write shorter posts, but today's is a FAIL in that department. I type 90WPM and I just can't help myself. Sorry.<br />
<br />
<img align="left" src="http://i273.photobucket.com/albums/jj227/ewhites/HowsMySonSignature-1.jpg" style="border: 0;" />Debby of Oxycontin and Opiate Addiction: A Mother's Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14881167853310152283noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8452076560635353634.post-47931406959380798712012-02-18T11:35:00.000-08:002012-02-18T11:35:04.265-08:00Rough Roads for my Addict and His Mom<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMfwU2Sz17Vdmq0fOnuc5HlTsH8g9FuacCKUStiV-HZd4hSjVPGxwc6FYEJ5N6YlBLys3EzTT16gX-sPvQarFz3zzuFQY-XrFLMFh7WrA1H7V6UlRewUKAxW0nuDjHsiwZgI8ryuQK_e7i/s1600/roughroad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="434" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMfwU2Sz17Vdmq0fOnuc5HlTsH8g9FuacCKUStiV-HZd4hSjVPGxwc6FYEJ5N6YlBLys3EzTT16gX-sPvQarFz3zzuFQY-XrFLMFh7WrA1H7V6UlRewUKAxW0nuDjHsiwZgI8ryuQK_e7i/s640/roughroad.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>I was re-reading my post from yesterday. It's wordy, yes I know. I can see that I was trying to process the revelation that after six months of sobriety, that my son has relapsed.<br />
<br />
I am often told that I'm a strong woman, who is handling this so well. Please don't be fooled into believing it. <br />
<br />
Today, I am very sad. I fear for my son. How I wish I had the financial resources to send my son off to a rehab facility for a very long time-- up to a year.<br />
<br />
The source of my strength is not my own. I find strength in my Christian faith. For today, I am drawing deeper into my faith for God's wisdom, Grace and comfort. <br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq"><blockquote class="tr_bq"><div class="heading passage-class-0" style="text-align: center;"><h3><i>Psalm 28:6-7</i></h3><div class="txt-sm"><i>New International Version (NIV)</i></div></div><div class="result-text-style-normal text-html " style="text-align: center;"> <i> <sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-14306">6</sup> Praise be to the LORD, <br />
for he has heard my cry for mercy. <br />
<sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-14307">7</sup> The LORD is my strength and my shield; <br />
my heart trusts in him, and he helps me. <br />
My heart leaps for joy, <br />
and with my song I praise him. </i></div></blockquote></blockquote><br />
<br />
<img align="left" src="http://i273.photobucket.com/albums/jj227/ewhites/HowsMySonSignature-1.jpg" style="border: 0;" />Debby of Oxycontin and Opiate Addiction: A Mother's Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14881167853310152283noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8452076560635353634.post-77793102746349332052012-02-17T17:41:00.000-08:002012-02-17T17:41:08.341-08:00Relapse. Redemption. Hope. Pain.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfmhStU8gBcL89Ets-xVTefEFI-31ioUaDJxv_f27VZcUZfYaeU7Tss4Fu4Fwr7JXKh_A0k643C2S3ADLKGHMZgp5FPuMtXhPPk8SqZO2Q0xfg15ugr9iKH4CSwOO6CJmgCnUDHKb0BO_u/s1600/Drug-Relapse-Info.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfmhStU8gBcL89Ets-xVTefEFI-31ioUaDJxv_f27VZcUZfYaeU7Tss4Fu4Fwr7JXKh_A0k643C2S3ADLKGHMZgp5FPuMtXhPPk8SqZO2Q0xfg15ugr9iKH4CSwOO6CJmgCnUDHKb0BO_u/s400/Drug-Relapse-Info.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
He relapsed.<br />
<br />
There. It's out in the open.<br />
<br />
I was going to continue sharing my own testimony, but I told B that I have to share this on my blog. I'm not sharing this for pity or sympathy. I'm sharing this so that I can keep my blog real. B says that he's okay with my sharing.<br />
<br />
For at least a week, I've had that mother's sense that something didn't seem right. I'm a whiz with numbers, and have the mind of an accountant. I love checks and balances, graphs and charts. I'm good at handling money-- but I wasn't always that way. When I continue on with my own story/testimony, you will understand how I had to learn to manage my money better. My son was broke, and it didn't make sense. I know how much much he earns, and I know what his fixed expenses are. He was in the negative and when a person is a drug addict, that is not a good sign.<br />
<br />
But, this post is about my son's addiction. He was doing so well, which is honestly why I wasn't blogging so often. I've always written on this blog, and kept in the back of my mind, that his sobriety could be compromised at any moment. I believe that I was trying to prepare myself for the possibility that he'd relapse. Again. <br />
<br />
What happened?<br />
<br />
He used oxy, again. His old "friend". The drug that eventually led to using heroin. Same opiate family.<br />
<br />
I asked B why?<br />
<br />
His answer was that he was feeling depressed. For the first two weeks of January, he only got one day shift. Business is very slow in the restaurant biz this time of year. His X-Box is at the pawn shop, because we wouldn't buy help him to put gas into his V-8 engine Jeep. I've heard addicts say that is' very dangerous to feel boredom. B was broke, had no X-Box and spent day after day at home, watching television. That's when he ran into Miss J. That was his connection, several years ago. He says that Miss J offered him oxy in exchange for hauling her around to do deliveries. (Yes, it has occurred to the danger in just that-- what if they'd been pulled over. That's a felony to possess oxy.)<br />
<br />
<i>So why did you use?</i> I still wanted to try and understand what made him relapse.<br />
<br />
His answers: I was bored. I had money. She was there. I had forgotten to take my suboxone that night before.<br />
<br />
<i>Could you feel the effects of the oxy?</i><br />
<br />
No. Not at first. A few times later, I started to. But, it wasn't the same as before.<br />
<br />
<i>Dear God.</i> I hate that drug. (Are there any addictive drugs that I don't hate?)<br />
<br />
I can't blame B's father, anymore than I can blame Bobby Brown for Whitney Houston's drug addiction. However, B's father did exactly what I asked him not to do. He gave my son cash. That's when I began to get a very bad feeling. In two week's time, B was given $240.00 in cash. His father would say that it was for this and that. I just knew differently. I didn't see my son producing the "items" his convinced his father that he needed the money for.<br />
<br />
I won't get into the very long and convoluted stories that led up to my son finally coming clean with me, today. I just knew. When I saw that his HDTV was gone, that was all the confirmation that I needed.<br />
<br />
How do I feel about this? Heartbroken of course. Yet, somehow, I knew. Yesterday, I had an ominous feeling that came over me. I had to urgently write my son an email and text him to read it. I was busy at work, but I sensed that my son was despondent. The point of my message to him was to let him know that I could see that he was holding back on a secret. I could see the anxiety in his eyes. I told him that there is a Darkness that wants to grab ahold of him and hold him back. I reminded him that there is also a Light, and that he needed to see that path. I was trying to tell him that I understood the grip that addiction has on him. Today, B told me that email came at a point he was actually having suicidal thoughts. He was despondent over what he'd done.<br />
<br />
<i>Thank you, God, for prompting me.</i><br />
<br />
Right now, B is in his room and is detoxing. <br />
<br />
He's not feeling well at all, and he is angry with himself for relapsing. He says he didn't use enough so that he's in full-blow addiction. I don't think I'm deluding myself by saying I can believe that. Believe me, when B was in his full-blown addiction, he was like a zombie who couldn't eat food. Those of you who've seen this know all about the leg spasms and kicking, shivering, vomiting, diarrhea, loss of appetite, runny nose, sneezing and they look horrible. He says that he cannot begin taking suboxone until tomorrow morning, lest he go into full-blown withdrawals. <br />
<b>NOTE:</b> If I felt he was in full-blown withdrawals, like he was
four years ago, I would check him into a hospital. He is not in that
kind of condition. <br />
<br />
It's all so complicated, and I that's all I want to share, at this time.<br />
<br />
To sum this up-- why don't I throw my son out? If he had stolen from us to buy the drugs, I would. If I had found the drugs, or paraphernalia, I would have. I think he's suffering enough as it is.<br />
<br />
I do hope that, after a lengthy talk with his father, that W finally understands that giving an addict cash is not a smart thing to do. I have W's promise, that if he wants to help my son with something like a car repair, new set of tires, new shoes-- things that he needs-- that he could get the money to me, and I'd make sure it gets to where it's supposed to be. B has also agreed that he hands over his paychecks to me. I make sure his bills are paid. He seems relieved, as he says having cash isn't a good idea. He is very remorseful.<br />
<br />
I reminded B that if we ever do find drugs, or he ever steals from us (which he never has) he's gone. He looked so shaken, and I believe that he knows he's very lucky to live with us. <br />
<br />
There is no right or wrong answer on what a parent should do, when their addict relapses. I believe that B regrets it and wants to get back on track. I continue to tell B that he needs a support system. He needs a sponsor. He needs to have a support group of people who have been through the same things he has, but are clean and sober. <br />
<br />
<br />
I'm surprisingly calm-- what good will it do for me to fret or go into a panic mode? I reminded B that I cannot rescue him. He is angry at himself for losing his TV and that he might not save the money quick enough to get his X-Box out of the pawn shop. But, we both agree that they are just "things". If he truly gets himself back on track, and stays clean, then he can afford to buy them again.<br />
<br />
I can only watch from the outside-- because I do not know what it's like to be addicted to drugs (nor alcohol, which my son isn't). I don't know what withdrawals feel like, but I've had enough addicts tell me that its worse than I could ever imagine. <br />
<br />
I feel sorrow that my son has an addiction that is so dangerous and precarious. While people judge Whitney Houston as having been an drug addict-- she was someone's daughter, mother, friend and a famous public figure. Only Whitney knows what was really going on with her struggle for sobriety. I'm deeply saddened that such a talented and beautiful woman, who appeared to have it all, fell victim to her addiction. <br />
<br />
I thank God, every day, that my son is alive and doesn't have a criminal record. I pray that he will not test the blessings he's been given. <br />
<br />
I also pray that Miss J will be arrested and stopped from the years of drug dealing she has gotten away with, in our hometown. I'm sorry, but I feel like I hate her. I've never met her, I don't know what she looks like, but I hate what she represents. Greed & Evil. <br />
<br />
I feel as though my post is a bit choppy, and I wanted to write something much different. Instead, I just had to write my thoughts as they come. <br />
<br />
I continue to live in faith that God has a plan. I thank him for his Grace and Mercy. I do not want to become frantic nor bitter about B's relapse. It is what it is. As long as I don't enable him, I pray that this is going to be a turning point for him. <br />
<br />
I will pray for him, because tonight will be a rough night for him. He is in his room, hoping to find sleep and waiting for the time when he can take a suboxone. So, here I am, one of those mom's who is watching their child suffer from a terrible disease called Addiction. Tomorrow, B will tell my husband the truth, and he will call his father to tell him the truth. <br />
<br />
I keep reminding my son that he's as sick as the secrets he keeps. Had he admitted the truth a week ago, he would not have stressed himself out by trying to hide what I already suspected. <br />
<br />
<img align="left" src="http://i273.photobucket.com/albums/jj227/ewhites/HowsMySonSignature-1.jpg" style="border: 0;" />Debby of Oxycontin and Opiate Addiction: A Mother's Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14881167853310152283noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8452076560635353634.post-12469654851124558392012-02-05T10:37:00.000-08:002012-02-06T17:58:39.497-08:00Sins of the Parents (Part 3)...are they passed on to our children?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<br />
BEFORE I CONTINUE MY STORY:<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>It's been a challenge to find time to continue sharing my personal testimony with the faceless friends, those who stumbled onto my blog and to myself. My husband asked me why I have taken this direction on my blog. That's a good question, considering that I originally started this blog to share updates on my son's initial stint in a drug rehab facility. Over time, my blog became a place where I would purge my feelings of anger, helplessness, frustration and despair. It took a while, but eventually I began to cultivate some regular supporters-- and I will never forget how much I appreciated that.</i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<i>Today, my blog is taking on an entirely new flavor. Gone are most of the rantings of a mother who couldn't cope with my son's drama. It's interesting that, with my new direction, most of my past supporters have stopped commenting as well. I've found peace with that. I'd like to think they've stopped visiting my blog because I seem to be coping just fine with my son's addiction, and his struggle to maintain sobriety. I wish I could say that's 100% true. I still have my moments when I am afraid for my son. I have my days when I feel frustration at my son's procrastinations. I still feel resentful when my son isn't truthful with me. I can still see addictive behavior. So, yes, continued encouragement and support is always appreciated. </i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<i>I do want to say that I do read every comment, and every email that is sent to me privately. I want you to know that my heart aches for you. I do say prayers for you. For now, I have no intention of abandoning my blog. It is my hope that the audience I reach are those of you who are needing hope and encouragement. I'm here to give it to you, as best as I can. </i></blockquote>
<br />
<b>Why am I sharing my testimony?</b><br />
<br />
If anyone has completed their 12-step program, sharing your testimony is a requirement. At my church, we have a Celebrate Recovery program-- and if you can find one, I highly recommend it. Yes, it is Christian-Based, but I make no secret that I am a Jesus loving Christian. Likewise, when someone becomes a Christian, it is recommended that we have a 3-minute testimony (story) to share on how and why we became a Christian. I've honed my story down to that, and have shared it with plenty of people. They are usually amazed at my positive attitude when I share some highlights of what I've been through. Here, I'm not honing down my story. I'm being honest with all of you--and myself.<br />
<b> </b><br />
Another reason I am sharing my testimony, is that I can see so many of my own traits in my son. Some of my own traits that I've passed on to my son make me cringe.<b><i> This is why I'm sharing my story... (To read Part 1, click <a href="http://howismyson.blogspot.com/2012/01/sins-of-father-and-mother.html">here</a>.)</i></b><br />
<br />
<br />
I had been living on my own by the age of 18. I never returned home, because I managed to make ends meet. Fortunately, I inherited my mother's work ethics, and her ability to scrimp and save money. I had a social circle of friends that found plenty of time to party, and I fit right in. At that time, I was a travel agent, so I got to jet-set all over the world. Good times. Great memories.<br />
<br />
<b>Relationships with my parents: </b><br />
<b> </b><br />
My relationship with my father wasn't the best. I was bitter, and unforgiving towards him, for all the beatings and physical abuse our family had endured. He went on to remarry a much younger woman-- but that was short-lived. He never married again, but lived with a few women. I tried to bond with him, but it never quite happened. My father became a Christian around 1983, and he mellowed with age. I believe he regretted a lot of things that he had done, and he wanted me to spend more time with him. He died in 1986 of cancer. Shortly before his death, I decided to forgive him and I am glad that I did. It wasn't until after his death, that I found out that my father had been sexually abused as a young boy, by his uncle. I believe that explains why my father had so much rage inside him-- and it didn't help that he killed the "enemy" in World War II. What a pity that he never quite found a way to let go of that.<br />
<br />
Mom and I had an on again-off again type of relationship. I loved her, but I didn't like her. She was very controlling and highly critical of me. In retrospect, I believe she was living her life vicariously through me. She wanted me to be successful, because she so believed it would be a positive reflection on her. Why do parents do that? I never felt as though I could meet up to her expectations. I never had that mother-daughter relationship that I've seen so many of my girlfriends have with their own. I could write a book on my mother-- I'd title it "The Mother's Book of Guilt"...or something like that. <br />
<br />
<b>Part 2 (Marriage to my son's father)</b><br />
<br />
I was 24 years old when I met my son's father. I fell deeply in-love with B's father (I will call him "W"). He treated me with kindness and generosity. After my miserable first marriage, I felt liberated. W wasn't controlling at all, which was in stark contrast to my first husband-- who was possessive and jealous, and unfaithful. I can still clearly remember the time that W told me that he loved me. <i><b>This was the first time, in my life, that anyone had told me that I was loved.</b></i> <i>Ever.</i> I remember that I started to cry. It took a while, but I finally mustered the courage to tell him that I loved him. From then on, we told each other that all the time. I was euphoriant!<br />
<br />
W had his own businesses, and was fine with me continuing my social life with my girlfriends. Eventually, I got into horses and I would travel all over the state of California to compete in horse shows. Life was good!<br />
<br />
It was an adjustment for me to accept his offer to move in with him and his widower father. I grew fond of the old Scotsman. We married four years later, and had a wonderful honeymoon to England and Scotland. I'm going to fast-forward a few years later, where his father sold his home and the three of us moved to a beautiful place in the country. It was my dream house-- swimming pool, acreage for my herd of three horses. In looking back, I led a very privileged life. My son was born five years after we were married, in 1988, and I was smitten with my newborn.<br />
<br />
Sadly, cracks in our marriage weres beginning to show. Shortly before I got pregnant, W told me he didn't love me anymore. I was devastated. Now that I look in that rear-view mirror of life, I can see that we had grown apart. I had become my mother-- willful, controlling and negative. Bottom line, I had become self-absorbed and I couldn't even see it.<br />
<br />
My rear view mirror reveals to me that, at first, I loved all the freedom that W allowed me to have. I finally realized that it was to W's benefit. With my being busy with my own projects, he could spend all of his time in his race car fabrication business, while running another retail business. I began to feel abandoned. It became profoundly noticeable, to me, when W wasn't attentive to me during my pregnancy. I went to all of my doctor appointments alone. I went through labor alone. <br />
<br />
During my pregnancy, my mother had become angry at me for something really stupid. Therefore she didn't speak to me for the last three months of my pregnancy, and refused to come to my baby shower nor to the hospital while I was in labor or when my son was born. Consequently, I came home with a newborn and had nobody to help me learn how to care for my son. W took off to work on his race cars. My mother was nowhere to help. I do believe that it was at this point, that our marriage had taken a turn for the worse-- and so had my life. This is when I began to throw my own pity party.<br />
<br />
So, here I was with a young child. I got to be a stay-at-home mom, thank goodness. B became the center of my universe. My horse shows came to an end. Some of my friends, who didn't have children, abandoned me-- or so I felt. Maybe it was I who had abandoned them? Who wants to hear me talk ad nauseum and child rearing?<br />
<br />
By the time B was 2 years old, I'd grown a bit weary of watching Sesame Street and I felt my son was ready to have a social life. W wanted me to go back to work. I found a woman who ran a private day care, and so I decided that I would work at W's retail store-- to help him out, so he could spend more time with the race cars.<br />
<br />
A new chapter in my life was beginning-- and this one was huge.<br />
<br />
Part 3 to come. I've written enough, for today.<br />
<br />
<b>Update on my son:</b><br />
I don't make claims on my son's sobriety. That is, I'd like to think he's clean. All signs indicate that he is-- he has a hearty appetite. He's on suboxone, and that seems to be his key on staying clean. He's still working at the same job, and he loves it. He struggles with finances, but that's mostly because he eeks by on working an average of 30 hours per week as a busser at a restaurant. We continue to collect rent of $400.00 a month from him. That may sound steep to some of you, but it's less than the average $500-$600.00 he'd pay for just a room. That rent provides him a room and board. We continue to pay for his medical insurance and doctor visits, which exceeds the rent he pays. His attitude remains very loving and respectful towards us.<br />
<br />
He is, though, far from ready to fly from the nest. If we were to kick him to the curb, today, he'd be living in poverty. Such is the dilemma for so many parents-- whether their kids are drug addicts or not. Unemployment is still a major concern, and my son's work has called him "off" for the last two weeks. The cost of living, in our part of California, is astronomical. So, for now, I continue to ask my husband to let B stay-- as long as he continues to pay rent and sets aside savings-- and, of course, no drugs.<br />
<br />
His drug friends, of the past, are out of his life. He still doesn't go to meetings, and I've stopped suggesting it. He's working his own program, and that is what I have to let him do.<br />
<br />
Thank you, if you are still reading this. Once I finish my story-- which will take 2-3 more installments, I hope that my purpose for doing so will make sense to any of you who are still following me.<br />
<br />
<br />
<img align="left" src="http://i273.photobucket.com/albums/jj227/ewhites/HowsMySonSignature-1.jpg" style="border: 0;" />Debby of Oxycontin and Opiate Addiction: A Mother's Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14881167853310152283noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8452076560635353634.post-4310506847569918362012-01-21T11:29:00.000-08:002012-08-25T22:18:30.955-07:00Sins of the Father (...and mother)<br />
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I'm as ready as I'll ever be, to share my testimony to my readers (and myself). If you've arrived to this post, because you searched for "the sins of the father", or for whatever reason you are here-- this is my story. It will be a series, because I'm 56 years old now. There are several reasons that I want to share my testimony. Primarily, if you know my story, then you will find out that I have survived a lifetime of pain, hurt, betrayal and sorrow. God got me through all of it, but at that time I wasn't believing in Him. It wasn't until He brought me down to my knees, that I realized what was missing in my life. I was missing faith, and I had to learn who God really is. I found the answers in his Word-- the bible.<br />
<br />
<br />
In the bible, there is a passage that I want to share with you.:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<br />
<h2>
<a class="h2heading h2" href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=8452076560635353634" name="John_9:1-3_(New_International_Version)" style="color: black;">John 9:1-3 (New International Version)</a></h2>
<i>As he went along, he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked
him, "Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born
blind?" <br /> "Neither this man nor his parents sinned," said Jesus, "but
this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life. </i><br />
<br />
<br />
The sins of the father are not passed on to his offspring. Each person
is responsible for his or her own actions and own actions and salvation.
Just because the father is an alcoholic does not mean his offspring are
going to be alcoholics, for instance, though it is a common
misconception. The same goes for a parent who is an abuser. The child
may have no tendency toward abuse and may even despise abuse. There were
clearly two schools of thought in the Old Testament, but Jesus taught
that each of us is responsible for our actions and that the message of
God is love. <br />
<div style="background-color: white; border: medium none; color: black; overflow: hidden; text-align: left; text-decoration: none;">
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">(Source: Read more: </span><a href="http://wiki.answers.com/Q/The_sins_of_the_father_shall_be_visited_upon_the_son_a_thousand_times#ixzz1k7N8rLrf" style="color: #003399;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">http://wiki.answers.com/Q/The_sins_of_the_father_shall_be_visited_upon_the_son_a_thousand_times#ixzz1k7N8r</span>Lrf</a></div>
</blockquote>
<br />
I've been writing this blog for close to four years. It's my story of
coming to grips that my son is addicted to opiates. It's filled with
pain, sorrow, anger, frustration and confusion. As the posts begin to
grow, so has my own story of acceptance and growing even closer and
stronger in my faith in God. My blog's story, that begins in April of 2008, has
also helped me to take a personal assessment in what kind of parent I
was to my son. My son has taken on some of my traits-- some are
good, and some are the ones I wish I didn't pass on to him. <br />
<br />
<br />
My life was filled with its own dysfunction, and to this day, I still struggle with some of the ways my parents raised me. Because of their traits they have passed on to me, I have a short-temper, can be over-sensitive and I battle to keep my controlling nature tempered. So, I begin:<br />
<br />
<u><b>My family </b></u><br />
<br />
I was born in 1955, the daughter of an handsome Army soldier. My mother was born and raised in Southern Germany in 1924. She was the daughter of a master tailor. My mother didn't not have a good relationship with her mother. When she was very young, she went to live with her grandmother, who owned a popular and successful restaurant. My mother, and her family, lived through the horrors of war. She personally witnessed bombings in her own hometown, had been briefly captured (and let go) by American soldiers, as the war was ending.<br />
<br />
My father was born in 1922, the son of a Spanish man who married a Mexican woman from Southern California. His life wasn't very happy either. He joined the Marines when he was 17 (yes, he lied about his age) and fought in Guadalcanal. I don't know what happened, but he later joined the Army and fought in the South Pacific, against the Japanese during WWII. He killed, and also lived through the atrocities of war. Consequently, he had a quick temper and had a black belt in karate. He later became a Marksman, and trained soldiers how to shoot. He was good at it.<br />
<br />
My parents met when he was stationed in Austria. My mother had an illegitimate son, from an affair with an American solider, who shipped out as soon as he found out she was pregnant. (Funny thing is I found this out when I was about 11 years old. Until the day my mother died, she never admitted that my half-brother wasn't my full-brother. I never told her that I knew. She was a very private person.) My father married my mother, moved her and my half-brother to America (and he adopted him) and then the trouble began. My mother, who thought that moving to America would be a glamorous life, quickly discovered that her mother-in-law and relatives were poor farming Mexicans. She became bitter and angry, and the marriage went downhill from there. My father, began to hit my mother and she became the bitter and silent wife. My brother was born in 1954 and I then I came along, when my father was stationed in Honolulu, Hawaii.<br />
<br />
My memories, for most of my childhood, is that I never saw my parents showing affection. I can vividly remember some nights, sharing a bedroom with my brother, and hearing the screaming and the sounds of crashing and my mother being hit. I recall crying, and my brother trying to comfort me. To this day, I remember a night when I ran into the kitchen and saw my father holding my mother's head on a cutting board, with a knife over her neck and screaming at her-- while she was screaming back, with fear. That horrible picture is something I have never been able to erase, since I was about six years old.<br />
<br />
As I grew older, I began to receive the beatings, too. I've been picked up and thrown against walls, whipped with his thick belt until I and welts all over me, and had wet my pants with terror. My half-brother, received some of the worst of my father's temper. My other brother (whom I adored) probably got his share of beatings, but I can't recall. I always felt as though he was the "Golden Child" because he was gifted with artistic talent. He was very close to my father, and they did things together. When my father was stationed in Korea, I remember that there was peace in the house. Somewhat.<br />
<br />
My mother, likewise, hit us with wooden cooking spoons, a belt and she could swear like a drunken sailor. She had a quick temper, too, and she was really strict. I became a rebellious adolescent, who would back talk her while my father was in Korea. Like many teenagers, I grew to hate and resent her. We did not have a loving mother-daughter relationship. I was not allowed to host sleep-overs, yet alone go to any. I could not have friends over for dinner. She didn't understand this "American nonsense". <br />
<br />
My parents finally divorced, I was so relieved. It was a bitter divorce, and my brother moved in with his dad and I lived with my mother. My mother's bitterness worsened my already troubled relationship with my father, and the camps were divided. My oldest brother moved out of the house when he was 17 years old. Years later, he told me that he left because my father threatened that "something bad" would happen to him if he stayed.<br />
<br />
<u><b>My High School Years </b></u><br />
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I recall that in my freshman year of high school, that I isolated myself in school. I was at a small parochial school, and miserable. I didn't feel as though I fit in. My parents weren't religious, and we did not practice religion at home. I was told I was Catholic, likes it's a genetic thing. Now, I realized that I would sit alone at lunch and breaks, hoping that someone would notice me. They didn't. The school closed down, due to lack of funds and I was so happy. I could finally go to a public school.<br />
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At the public high school, I smoked my first joint. I'd smoke weed, but truly more as a recreational thing to do with friends. I never tried acid, which was big in the 70's. I dabbled with cocaine, but more out of curiosity. I never bought it, and fortunately, I don't have that addictive gene for drugs.<br />
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I didn't get into much trouble as a teenager, because when I wasn't in school, I had to work at my mother's German Delicatessen and small restaurant. I hated her for making me learn how to run her business, and for having to wear dirndls-- but I soon caught on that boys began to take notice of me. Ha! My mother kept a really close rein on me, and I was forbidden to date until I was 16. Even then, I was painfully shy.<br />
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<u><b>The Beginning of my Adult Life </b></u><br />
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Shortly after my 18th birthday, my mother brought me a suitcase and said it was time to move out of the house. I had a job at a resort, I found a cute apartment, and I left. My mother told me that I was to never ask her for money, but if I was hungry that she would give me food. <br />
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I partied it up! My brother moved in with me, and let the good times rock and roll. I was 18 years old, and had worked my way up to the secretary of the General Manager of the resort and country club. He was a handsome European, 32 years old, highly educated, spoke five languages and had a very powerful personality. One day, he asked me on a date. I was so nervous, and was told to keep our relationship secret. I fell in-love, for the first time in my life. He took me to fancy restaurants, parties and five-star hotels in big cities. I wasn't old enough to drink, and I was so nervous being around these wealthy and older people. My mother was so excited for me, because she wanted me to be with a European with all of this man's background and financial/social status.<br />
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<u><b>My Young Marriage</b></u><br />
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One day, X went away on a trip to visit his father in Canada. Apparently, he got busted by the INS for having an expired student Visa. Stupid (and naive) me, said "yes" when he told me what happened and he asked me to marry him. Six weeks later, we were married at a famous Catholic church. He paid for, and planned everything. I wasn't allowed to invite my friends-- only my immediate family. I remember being very scared, and my mother was so excited for me. It was a beautiful wedding, and my dress was gorgeous (I still have it, vacuum sealed. I have no idea what to do with it. Gosh, I was tiny in size, then!) Shortly before the wedding, I wanted to call it off. X was being a jerk-- controlling, jealous and far too old and mature for me. But, I was in-love, and I wanted that white gown and chapel wedding. I was too immature to realize that I was making a big mistake. The invitations had gone out, and that was that. I had to quit my job, because I couldn't work for my husband. So, my father walked me down the aisle...<br />
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On our wedding night, I remember a group of his drunken friends came to our suite. I remember crying, as one of the wives helped to remove my veil, gown and undo my fancy hair-do. I remember crying myself to sleep, while I could hear the sound of a poker game, and the smell of cigarette smoke. The men played poker into the wee hours of the night. My wedding night wasn't romantic at all. It was lonely and I was scared.<br />
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We left for a six-week honeymoon to Europe. I was mesmerized by the sights and sounds of Iceland, London, Belgium, Germany, Austria, Hungary and Romania. In retrospect, those are the best memories I have of that marriage. I was homesick, though, and ready to come back to America. My experience visiting the "Iron Curtain" gave me an appreciation of what it means to be an American, and I still feel that way.<br />
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<u><b>My Divorce </b></u><br />
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Two years later, I divorced him. I grew tired of his flaunting the women he was cheating with on me. I grew tired of having to be inspected if I passed his criteria for what I wore, or how I looked. I did not belong in his world of country clubs and wealthy people. When that marriage ended, he had broken me. I felt worthless. He once asked me why I couldn't be as beautiful as his (new) secretary...or as smart as her... he'd tell me I was ugly and stupid, and would never amount to anything.<br />
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He broke my spirit, and it took years for me to recover from that.<br />
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So, there I was, 21 years old and divorced. I discovered that I was pregnant (by him). I quietly had an abortion. To this day, I often wonder what my 35 year old son or daughter might have looked like. As a Christian, I regret this chapter in my life a great deal. I have asked for God's forgiveness, that I killed a child, and I was a lot more careful about birth control. I never told my mother about this, because I was too ashamed.<br />
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Now that I think of it, Mr. X never told me he loved me. Neither did my parents.<br />
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For the next few years, I had good times. I worked, as a travel agent, and visited all parts of the world. I dated, but never had a serious relationship with men. I didn't trust them. I used them and I'd dump them. They used me. I now realize that I wanted to hurt them, as much as I'd been hurt and rejected. When I was 24, I met a man who owned a business next door to where I worked as a travel agent. He'd wave at me, and I'd think to myself that he was attractive. He was to become my husband of sixteen years, the father of my son...<br />
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<u><b>End of Part I. More to come...</b></u><br />
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<b>For today: </b> My son has been off work for two days. Just the other night, it was raining outside. My husband was on his laptop, my son was curled up on the couch reading. I was on my laptop. I recall looking at my son, and feeling a sense of gratitude that I know where he is. I have to say, that I am dreading the day he has to move out. He's 23 years old, and it's time. I feel a sense of peace, that I know he's home with us alive and well. He's still taking suboxone, feeling fine and he loves his job. I am thankful for that. I pray that my son will be able to earn enough money to survive on his own. He will need to learn how to manage his money, because he is used to the comforts of home that my husband and I have-- from years of hard work, scrimping, saving and managing our finances. It isn't easy, and I am thankful for where my life is today. I give God all the glory and thanks for this.<br />
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<b>NOTE:</b> I have not continued on with this story-- someone who knows who we are, has tried to use this blog to hurt my son. I don't feel ready to share the rest of my personal story, for a while. When I am ready to-- and I believe this person is no longer reading our blog, and won't try to hurt us, I will continue...it is mean to be my personal testimony as to how God changed me for the better. <br />
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<img align="left" src="http://i273.photobucket.com/albums/jj227/ewhites/HowsMySonSignature-1.jpg" style="border: 0;" />Debby of Oxycontin and Opiate Addiction: A Mother's Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14881167853310152283noreply@blogger.com3