A Candid Interview in my Son's Own Words About Suboxone, Relapse and Sobriety

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:

Mom: Can you briefly explain why you feel suboxone is going to help you with your sobriety?

Son: 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.

#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.

Mom: So, what happened? Why do you think you relapsed?

Son: 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.

Mom: Why hadn't you taken your sub?

Son: That was accidental. I just fell asleep and I normally take my sub before bed.

Mom: What happens if you don't take your sub?

Son: By that morning, it had been over 24 hours, so I was feeling withdrawals and cravings and knew that I could technically use.

Mom: Can you describe that deciding moment to use.

Son: Two Words. F**k it.

Mom:  What did you use?

Son: Oxy.

Mom: How did you feel?

Son: About the same. I had enough of the suboxone left in me, that it didn't really have much effect at all.

Mom: So, why not stop right then and there?

Son: I guess since I had already messed up, I wanted to get loaded one more time and then stop.

Mom: How long did you use?

Son: 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.

Mom: What are precipitated withdrawals?

Son: 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.

Mom: What did it feel like when you took a sub too early?

Son:  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.

Mom:   So, what was the turning point to come clean again?

Son: 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.

Mom:  How are you feeling right now?

Son: Optimistic. Hopeful. Ashamed. Scared. But, I feel normal again.

Mom:  What did you learn from this?

Son: 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?

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.

Mom:  How long do you plan to use suboxone?

Son:  Honestly, I'll stay on suboxone as long as I need to. There is no downside to long-term. Like Dr. Junig says, if it ain't broke, why fix it?  If these work, then why not?  You know...

Mom:  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?

Son: 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?

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.
(Mom's note: My son has Type 1 Diabetes and is insulin dependent. What an ironic analogy)

Mom:  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?

Son:  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.

Mom: Thanks, son.

Mom: 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?

Son: 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.

Mom:  I just thought of something else? Why didn't methadone work?

Son:  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.

Mom:  What do you say to those who believe that NA (12-steps)  is the answer to sobriety?

Son: 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.

Mom:  Would you ever try NA again?

Son: 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.

Mom: What's wrong with brutal honesty?

Son: 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.

Mom:  How can you learn to be honest?

Son: With practice, I guess. They say "one day at at time". I gotta realize that you aren't my enemy.

Mom: Anything else?

Son: I want to thank Dr. Junig and Subox Forum for their support, without which I would not be here right now. Clean and sober. Again.

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.

Coming up next, articles from Dr. Junig, of Suboxone Talk.   

Sins of the Father (...and mother)

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.


In the bible, there is a passage that I want to share with you.:

John 9:1-3 (New International Version)

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?"
"Neither this man nor his parents sinned," said Jesus, "but this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life.


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.

(Source: Read more: http://wiki.answers.com/Q/The_sins_of_the_father_shall_be_visited_upon_the_son_a_thousand_times#ixzz1k7N8rLrf

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.   


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:

My family

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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".

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.

My High School Years

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.

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.

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.

The Beginning of my Adult Life

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.

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.

My Young Marriage

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...

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.

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.

My Divorce

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.

He broke my spirit, and it took years for me to recover from that.

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.

Now that I think of it, Mr. X never told me he loved me.  Neither did my parents.

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...

End of Part I.  More to come...

For today:  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.

NOTE:  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.

Early warning signs & beginning tips for parents of drug addicts.

I'm going to skip back a few topics--to the beginning, where I began to discuss how I felt, when I first learned that my son was using drugs. Only this time, I'm remembering this 22 months later, from a totally different perspective. 

I've had some interesting chats with parents of students, where I work.  I'm still trying to hone down my story, in as short of a time span that I can.  My job isn't to counsel, parents, but I can't help myself!  I so wish I could share my story with them.  I can already visualize so many of you nodding your heads. Yes, you do, too.

Over a year ago, I sat with with the high school principal, who is also my boss.  I shut his door, and told him that I am the mother of a drug addict.  I wanted M to know that I had a blog, and that he had permission to refer any parent to me.  He offered me genuine sympathy (which wasn't what I was seeking). In short, M asked me a profound question-- he asked me what would I tell a parent who is in the early stages of discovery-- of the Big Evil Dark Secret.  I thought very carefully... and it's hard to pinpoint what the best starting place is.  So, I'm going to write down some key points:

Accept it.  Yes, that's it.  If your high school principal calls you, to tell you that your student was busted with drugs, don't blame the school.

Accept that no matter how seedy your kid's friend(s) are, they did not hog tie and for your kid to use drugs. YOUR kid made that choice!

Learn.  My son had all kinds of concocted stories about the drugs he was using.  I had no idea what oxycontin looked like. I had no idea what heroin looked like-- other than movies and photos of a syringe being plunged into a vein.  There are countless blogs and websites on drugs. Read!

Trust your sources - use your common sense.  Talk to people with common sense.  Believe it or not, addicts who have been clean and sober for a long period of time (years) have been more than willing to educate me.  Addicts, who are truly wanting to live a life of sobriety, want to help others from making their mistakes.  Sometimes statistics and advice can be confusing... just read my comments!


Get on the same page as your child's other parent--  this is really tough.  I know parents, who are living under the same roof-- who handle things differently.  Your drug addict child, most likely, has learned how to manipulate.  Parents need to be united.  In my case, my son's father and I are divorced and lived in separate households. This was one of the biggest obstacles.  My only advice is that YOU educate yourself, find support and learn how to set boundaries.  That's what I had to do-- and it took a few years to reap the rewards.

Find support groups who understand drug addiction-  This is so important! Al-Anon, Nar-Anon, CODA, Celebrate Recovery (church groups) have plenty of websites to help you find one of these groups.  Try different groups-- more than once-- which is exactly what I did.  If you've never been to one, please know that this is not an arena where people will tell you what to do.  The format is that the meeting has specific guidelines, and they will review this at the beginning of each meeting.  First names are only used-- just like on my blog.  This is anonymous.  One person speaks, at a time.  Nobody else may speak. Nobody may offer advice.  The format allows each person an opportunity to "share".  You will discover that you are not alone.  You will make friends.  At the end of each meeting, you can have coffee and chat with those who stay. This is where you can have a personal conversation.

This format doesn't work for me-- and I say this, in all honesty.  I am not saying that I don't like these groups. I am saying that I lack patience with people who speak for a long time.  I have no patience for prattling (says she who writes long posts).  I have an even worse time with people who whine about the same thing ,over and over again.  I'm not giving up, and I will try a new Nar-Anon, that just started in my area.  I live in a small community, where meetings are very scarce.  I also want to say that I know plenty of people who love these kinds of meetings. It has saved their life. So, bottom line, please go-- try it, give it a chance, and I pray this is your answer.

If you can afford to see a licensed Marriage Family Therapist, who specializes in drug addiction, please go!  My husband and I did this, and it was helpful.  My son went, without us.  Then all three of us got together.  That didn't go well, because my son was lying and still using. The therapist knew it, too.  I didn't like her, and didn't go back after a while. In retrospect, I didn't want to hear what she had to say.  You see?  It's very easy to become offended and you can easily have a mental meltdown at the stress of it all.

Most importantly,  it does absolutely no good to yell at your kid, punish, threaten nor belittle them.  I say this, because I've resorted to this.  Odds are, your drug addict child, most likely feels like they are a worthless piece of doo-doo, as it is.  I'm not saying that you need to do nothing!  Of course, there are consequences and we can't enable our kid's addiction.  At times, I felt like covering my ears with my hands, closing my eyes and yelling "na na na na" at the top of my voice. I've lost plenty of sleep and cried many tears of worry and sorrow. 

Understand that, unless your own close friends and family are drug addicts or live with one-- they really won't know the right thing to say.  Some will judge you, because they don't understand.  Most of the judgment comes from ignorance.  I not a perfect mom, but I tried to raise my son with Christian morals.  Still, my son got hooked on drugs.  What works for one addict, might not necessarily work for the other.  Sobriety is hard work-- for the addict and for the parent. 

If you can get your drug addict into a treatment program, that's awesome!  By the grace of God, we had health insurance. It cost $36,000.00 for a 30-day treatment program.  Our share of the cost was $3600.00.  Yes, amen.  When my son left rehab, my best friend let my son stay with them.  "C" is in "the program" with many successful years of sobriety. God bless them, they let my son stay for one month, while we looked for an SLE (Sober Living Environment). The cost was $600.00 per month, plus food and expenses.  It's not cheap.  My son stayed clean for six months.  He was totally pumped up, and so was I.

Pray.  Ask people to pray.  Spiritual Strength = Spiritual Fitness.  You will need all the strength you can find to get through this.  This ride goes on for a very long time-- years...even a lifetime. 

It is so frustrating that families who cannot afford a treatment program are left feeling helpless.  There are places that can be affordable, so don't give up!  Teen Challenge America is one of them.  Most "free" or "reduced" cost programs tend to be Christian based.  If you don't want to do the "Jesus" thing, hopefully you can find a non-denominational place.  Overall, most of these Christian programs don't force you to be a Christian. Ask.

I cannot stress enough, how crucial it is for you to be a safe place where you drug addict can come to. By that, you need to learn to listen.  If your drug addict can begin to feel that you are listening, and you are wanting to understand, it's a step in the right direction.  I attended four-hour classes on addiction, at my son's treatment center.  I learned so much! 

I will close for now-- and next talk about some of the worst case scenarios of living with with drug addict....from stealing to jail.  I count my many blessings that my son never got arrested-- and believe me, he's had close calls.  My son never resorted to stealing a LOT-- but he certainly conned me into giving him money, and he's dipped into $20.00 here and there.  He's not Mother Theresa!

My son's treatment center told us that B had about a 3% chance of not relapsing.  Opioids are a bitch of a habit to break.  I will never fully understand what that's like.  I do understand that the odds of my son relapsing again....still... over and over again... are very high.  I've known addicts who were clean for 10 plus years, and they relapsed.  Fortunately, the longer they stay clean and understand what to do if they relapse-- they usually clean up and move on.

One of the the biggest misunderstandings/misconceptions that I had so many months ago-- I thought my son would be "cured".  By that, I figured he would go to meetings, get a sponsor and he'd make it.  I pray that drug addiction/alcoholism can find a permanent cure.  For now, we all hope that our addicts will find a treatment program that will help them to find an escape hatch-- when the overwhelming need to use comes knocking.

Drug addiction is a demon-- that waits to pounce, and tempt, and lie and steal.

It's the devil.

SIDE NOTE: It appears that the general consensus is that my son might do better to stay on methadone for an indefinite period of time.  Know what?  It's my son's decision to make.  I have to step back, and let him find his way.  I can never fully understand what he's going through.

My son's life then and now-- CONTINUED TO PART 2

I left off last night with--

April Fool's Day, I remember leaving our home at 5am and picking up my son from his dad's house. His cousin came with us, for moral support. My son was a mess, and he kept popping pills. I prayed the whole way there.


My son was admitted, after his intake. We prayed over him, and we drove away. B spent 30 days in detox. About 10 days into it, my son freaked out when they stopped all meds and the withdrawals really hit. My son was sick, vomiting, diahrrea, panic attacks-- you name it. Still, C and I drove up each Saturday morning to sit through 4 hours of classes on addiction. I didn't know that my son had finally resorted to smoking black tar heroin. He was freebasing, and I didn't even know people did that! I was so naive.


C and I also went to NA and AA meetings and I began to read everything that I could.


My synopsis is getting longer than I had planned. I will try, tomorrow, to finish up the story-- share what my son has told me about the horrible things that have happened to him. He's been robbed, many times. He's overdosed, he tells me. He has relapsed more times than I can count.

--------------------
Let me fill in some of the stories of my son's addiction. I am hoping that someone who is new to the world of addiction will read this. Many followers of my blog are already familiar with this story-- it might match their own...different names, different gender, different dates:

My son tells me that it was a 16 year old girl who handed my son his first Norco pills. B says that she did this to "impress guys". She stole them from her mother and grandmother. Eventually, that girl started to give B Oxycontin. He was hoooked in no time at all. By the way, B didn't pop them. He snorted them. At the time, I didn't recognize the telltale yellow stain on his white T-shirts. B tells me that comes from rubbing off the time-release coating on the Oxy pills. He would chop them up and snort it. Nice, huh?

B's addiction grew to the point that he was taking 80's (green oxies). I don't remember how much, per day. He tells me that he OD'd several times. His friends seemed to know what to do. I discovered a vial of something. When asked, my son said it was used for overdoses. I forgot the name of
it-- probably because I want to.

In our area, Oxy cost anywhere froom $25-$50.00 per pill. My son resorted to dealing oxy in order to support his habit. Now that I look back, I can see where I missed a lot of signs. B was always at "J's" house. I though the had a crush on her. It turns out she supplied the pills, B sold them and they were partners. I suspect they eventually became lovers, but I don't know for sure. Those are things I don't like to think about.

Let me stop here-- I am speaking to parents who are at the beginning of this stage. I am speaking to parents who think that their son/daughter is a good kid and that they would never do drugs. My son is a good kid! He's a great kid! He's handsome (of course I feel that way), charming, polite and very intelligent. He doesn't look like a drug addict. Still he IS a drug addict.

Oxycontin kills. It's serious stuff. It's an epidemic in this country that is out of control. It's legal, unlike heroin-- if prescribed and used the way it's prescribed. But, it's out of control and doctors prescribe it all too easily.

Parents, if you have painkillers in your house-- lock them up! Count them!
Parents, pay attention to your student's grades. If they begin to plummet, don't ask your kid why? If your kid uses the typical excuse "oh, that's an old grade, I made up the work"-- don't believe them! Contact your studen'ts teacher, and ask THEM why!. Email them. Kids lie. It's just the way it is.

(I'm getting worked up now...bear with me). I have lost count of how many parents say to me (working at a high school) that "my kid doesn't lie". Really? Does your kid have lips? Are they moving? They're lying. I see how these kids behave on campus, when they're parents aren't watching them. I see who they associate with and I think...oh boy. Sure enough, trouble comes. I see parents who are in denial, every single day!

My son's plummeting grades and high attendance problems were loud cries for help. His father simply excused them. I see this where I work all the time, too. While I'm ranting-- what's up with parents who take in their kids' friends because they got kicked out of the house? Hello? Do you believe the kid's sad story, or do you really investigate. Call Child Protective Services, for crying out loud!  Right now, a nice kid is living with his girlfriend-- he's 17 and the girl is 18. Her mom is letting them shack up! The girl is a drug dealer. Mom? Anybody home? Hello?

My son was always on his cellphone. I didn't allow it at the dinner table. I hated that stupid cellphone, but his father paid for it. Parents, if you are paying their cellphone bill take a look at the statement. Had I looked my son's cellphone, I would have seen over 100 names in it. These were B's customers. I hate text messaging. I really do. What happened to a real conversation? Kids text for drugs all the time. Read the texts! Learn how! Parents, if you suspect your kid could be using drugs, then disconnect the text messaging. I didn't have text messaging as a kid!

Another sign-- my son always had nice clothes. Lots of CDs. He had video games and he was eating in places I couldn't afford. B always had a lame excuse-- that he traded in his games for new ones. That his dad bought him shoes...that a friend gave him his new brand name shirts. My son made THOUSANDS of dollars dealing drugs. He has nothing to show for it.

My son says that a friend introduced him to smoking heroin. Oxy was too expensive for him, and heroin is cheaper to buy. B quit selling oxycontin because the police had him on their radar. It's a miracle that B never got busted. He got pulled over, several times. He got searched. But the police never found his stash. B says he had dozens of oxy pills in his possession when he got pulled over. He'd probably still be in jail, by now. B said it scared him so bad that he got out of the business.

He says that he liked smoking heroin from the first time he smoked it. There aren't any telltale signs. Not really. Sure, my son got skinny but he's always been tall and lean. I noticed that my son couldn't sleep at night, so his father got him prescription sleeping pills. My son started having panic attacks, so his dad got him klonopin. My son was, literally, a zombie.

With that came lots of drama. I will continue with that tomorrow.

Today, my heart goes out to parents and loved ones who are so new to this.
Please, learn about oxycontin! Please. I have links on my blog. Take it seriously. Please, parents, find a support group in your area. Talk to other parents. Look at links on my blog and visit other bloggers. Follow their links...the path will lead you to people who have been there, done that and are still doing it.

I'm so thankful that I was prompted (I believe, by God) to start my own blog. It first started out as a way to keep my family updated on my son's progress. Now, this is beginning to evolve in my ministry.

Yes, I am a Christian. I'm not perfect. I'm just a believer and follower in my Lord and Saviour, Jesus.. If you aren't, I still care about you. Addiction takes hostages of all socio-economic and religions or non-religions. Addiction steals our loved ones soul and they are fighting a battle that has a very strong opponent.

Parents, please educate yourself. B's father never did take the time to attend classes, let alone an NA meeting. I'm not an expert, by any means. I read and I GOOGLE as much as I can.

I know this-- my son and I have restored our relationship. I think that I finally got the message to be a "safe place" for him to come to. That is, I have learned to listen to my son's stories. They horrify me, and they break my heart. Still, my son isn't asking me for answers, most of the time. He is pouring out his heart to me, and I can only listen and pray for him. I try and give advice, but a little at a time and in 10 seconds or less. Otherwise, he'll tune me out. No lectures. Kids hate it. Watch your tone of voice. I have had to work on that. I try to keep compassion in my voice. If B senses I'm angry, he tunes me out.

Part 3-- Tales of horror from my son on gangs, robberies, overdosing and all the horrible drama that comes with addiction.  Tomorrow...

Still-- I cannot blame myself. Yes, I missed things but that's in the past. If I can reach ONE parent's heart today...tomorrow... in the future...then I am paying forward the blessings and protect that God has given me.

I must go now. It's the end of my lunch. I have typed this in the HS library, surrounded by lots of kids. Forgive any typos, grammatical mistakes. No time to proof-- and I am hitting SEND with love and prayers.

My son's life-- from beginning to now, Part One

It will be two years, this December, that my son revealed to me that he had a drug problem. Many readers-- and I appreciate each and every one of you-- might have jumped in on my story, having missed a lot of details on my journey as the mom of a drug addict.

I thought that I would try and write a synopsis-- highlighting, as truthfully as I can, who my son is:

B was born almost 21 years ago. I had been married to his father for 5 years, before I became pregnant. I had dated and lived with B's father for 4 years before we were married. I was 24 when I met B's father-- he was 34 years old.

I have blogged about this marriage. Suffice it to say, that I have owned up to my fair share of why the marriage didn't last. This story is about my son--

When B was 8 years old, his father packed up 90% of the house belongings and moved out while I was at Disneyland with my son, my brother (divorced) and his daughter. My brother ended up moving into the house, since he was looking for a new place to live.

Neither my son nor I had any foresight that this was going to happen. It was all planned out by B's father. After almost one year-- our divorce was final and I was forced to move out of the only home that B ever knew. His father and his new girlfriend (who happened to be my former employee and "friend") moved in.

I was completely broke. B's father had cleverly had me sign a Quit Claim Deed (I thought we were refinancing our home). He got the business, the house and I received zero alimony and zero child support. He had no assets, according to his attorney.

Life as a single mom was a struggle, that lasted a total of 11 years. Kids can, at times, go to the highest bidder. Life with dad was Disneyland. Life with mom was fun, but mom had no extra money for the things that kids want. In the meantime, I had found a contemporary church and I was beginning to re-learn about Christianity (I was raised as a Catholic and turned away from God for 20 years. I didn't like religion at all!) I was still not fully grasping the concept of being obedient to God, but I was beginning to find love and acceptance as I grew closer to knowing who Jesus is. My son also enjoyed the youth ministry and he willingly asked to be baptized.

Fast forward to my son being diagnose with diabetes at the age of 12. Not too long after that my son met a kid I shall call "MG". His mother was a meth addict, his father an alcoholic and those two were embroiled in a bitter divorce. I didn't want my son hanging out with MG, but we all know that kids will find a way to be together. When my son turned 13, I felt as though I didn't know him. Naturally, we began to lock horns. Me, being stressed out over finances-- well, I wasn't the pillar of patience, to say the least. My son would move in with his dad, when he couldn't get his way with me. His father would criticize how I raised our son...yadda, yadda, yadda.

When B was 14 years old, he broke his wrist. It was a nasty break, and I remember being in the emergency room. The doctors gave my son the maximum dosage of morphine, but B kept saying he didn't feel anything. B was prescribed vicodin. Little did I know that this prescription would ultimately trigger his brain's love of opiates. Years later, my son told me that he went through that bottle in 2 days.

High School was "interesting". My son, and his friends, would hang out at our home. I'd try my best to be the "nice" mom, allowing my son to invite a friend over for dinner. My own mother never allowed that, so I wanted to give my son what I didn't have.

I played by all the "good parent" rules. Curfews. Dinner at the table, no television and we'd talk. I always wanted to meet the parents of my son's friends.
My son had to check in with me, and he always did. He played the rules just fine.

In his sophomore year, he was busted cutting school with MG. I found out that MG's mom had picked them up from school and called in my son's absence as "me". My son admitted, to me, that he had smoked weed. His father picked him up, and said he'd deal with it.

For the rest of high school, my son bounced back and forth from dad's to mom's house. I was the Anti-Christ, and his dad was the cool guy.

I knew that my son was headed down a bad road, when his 3.0 GPA began to plummet down to a 1.5 GPA. My son began to miss a lot of school, and his dad always excused his absences. Once B got his first car (a used truck) he became scarcer at home. His father said he was just being a kid. I began to worry, but I was helpless.

I can honestly say that I rarely let my son know if I was dating someone. My son NEVER saw a man sleeping in my bed. I made sure of that (thank you, Dr. Laura Schlessinger). My relationship with my son was rocky, to say the least.

My son missed graduation by ten credits. In hindsight, I wish I knew then what I know now-- working at a high school in the counseling office. Now I can clearly see how I should have been more vigilant about my son's absences and poor grades. My son started using vicodin, then Norcos and then Oxycontin when he was 16 years old. He tells me, that I had searched his bedroom closet better, I would have found the weed, baggies and scale -- clearly showing that my son was selling weed in middle school. I had no idea, and I never suspected a thing. I always wondered how my son afforded new shoes or video games. He always said his dad bought them.

B finally finished up his credits 6 months after his class graduated and he got his diploma. I nagged him to death about it.

In January 2006, I married my husband "C". When we returned from our honeymoon, my son said he needed to talk to me. He told me he was using Oxycontin and that he owed some bad people money, or they would hurt them. Stupid me. I had never even heard of oxycontin. I paid the debt for him, and took it out of his trust fund.

Here's what I so regret-- I never took the time to learn what Oxycontin was all about! I didn't even know that blogs existed on this topic. I thought my son simply "quit" and all was good...

My son was living at his father's house. "Dad" really didn't have rules or curfews.
Then, in March 2008, my son told me that he was in deep trouble. That's when he told me his addiction to Oxycontin had gotten worse. I was beside myself. His father was beside himself.

I remember, vividly, seeing what a mess my son was. He was working at a golf resort and messing up, big time. He got fired less than two months into the job. He had spent every penny and was overdrawn by hundreds of dollars. His father paid all the debt and I was distraught over what was happening.

By the grace of God-- and I mean that-- I was led to a drug rehab center in my hometown. They didn't take our insurance, and I could not afford the $8000.00 they wanted for detox. The woman, however, handed me a phone number. It was a drug treatment center two hours north of here. Right then and there, I dialed the number from my cellphone and prayed. Yes, they took our insurance. Yes, they had ONE bed available.

I called the phone number someone had given me that same day. They said this man was an excellent drug counselor/intervention counselor. The man answered the phone, and said he could see my son that night.

I went back to work, and B's father called me. He said that B was having health problems and freaking out. I had no idea what to do. My boss took one look at me, and said "go!"

I remember calling B and telling him he had an appointment at 5pm. My son agreed to go, and one hour later he said he wanted to get help.

April Fool's Day, I remember leaving our home at 5am and picking up my son from his dad's house. His cousin came with us, for moral support. My son was a mess, and he kept popping pills. I prayed the whole way there.

My son was admitted, after his intake. We prayed over him, and we drove away. B spent 30 days in detox. About 10 days into it, my son freaked out when they stopped all meds and the withdrawals really hit. My son was sick, vomiting, diahrrea, panic attacks-- you name it. Still, C and I drove up each Saturday morning to sit through 4 hours of classes on addiction. I didn't know that my son had finally resorted to smoking black tar heroin. He was freebasing, and I didn't even know people did that! I was so naive.

C and I also went to NA and AA meetings and I began to read everything that I could.

My synopsis is getting longer than I had planned. I will try, tomorrow, to finish up the story-- share what my son has told me about the horrible things that have happened to him. He's been robbed, many times. He's overdosed, he tells me. He has relapsed more times than I can count.

To be continued--

When a teenager allows you to enter their world...

For three years, I have been working at a public high school. No, I'm not a teacher and I'm not a high school counselor.  I work in the counseling office as an Administrative Assistant. That is, I register new families with students, cover for the Attendance office and I utilize my keyboard and computer skills to help run my department. I have a busy and demanding job.

I love my job.

What gives me the greatest joy is my interaction with the students.  It took a while for me to get used to being called "Mrs. ---", instead of Debby.  For the most part, the kids are great.  They are my daily reminder that much of my son's behavior is typical-- procrastination, drama, laziness and working the system.  I see it with students who are "At Risk",  to students who are college-bound.  They are young adults, whose brains haven't fully matured. Some of the boys have heavy beards and deep voices. Some of the freshmen boys look like little kids-- wide-eyed and timid, around me. It's exciting that the class of 2010 are kids I've known since their freshmen year.

I have a heart for the kids who are invisble-- the ones who dress to fit in to certain groups-- the "Emos", the "Vampires" (yep, we have them...and they cut themselves and drink each other's blood), and other groups who stand out because they look and dress differently.  These are the kids that I pay particular attention to look right into their eyes and to give them the kind of smile that says "I see you, and I care about you."

I also know many of their family stories-- I see their records and I meet their parents. Surprisingly, some of the kids who wear bright orange hair and have pierced lips have parents that look the stereo type "normal". Working in a high school has broken many of my (incorrect) perceptions that kids who get into trouble are a result of lousy parenting.

It's so not true.  Yes, I see dysfunctional families, and there are some parents I wish I could grab and drag into an addiction treatment center-- to see a young person in the throes of detox and writhing in pain. I want to scream at them that they are in denial and to LISTEN to the counselors, when we see the signs that their child is failing school...and falling in with the wrong crowd. That's another story I have been writing in my head for some time...

My point, today (during my lunch break) is that I had an interaction with a student I have known for three years. I will call him "KOP" ( for kid on probation).  KOP comes from parents who appear like "normal" and educated people. Both work, and the mom and I have always had pleasant interactions. Just recently the parents separated and are headed into a divorce. I've told KOP's mom my son's story, hoping she might want to open up to me. So far, she hasn't.

Her son, however, "KOP" opened up to me, today-- hence, the title of this blog.  KOP is being drug-tested because he was expelled from our school, last year, for having alcohol in his locker, for trying to sell it to a minor and for shoplifting.  I had prayed that this was his cry for help.

He is back, this year, having appealed to the school board. He has a list of things he must comply with, including random drug testing.  Last week, he got upset with a teacher and left the classroom. In frustration, he punched  his fist through a glass window. I heard it, and saw the look on his face. He was horrified at what happened -- and then he broke down a cried like a young boy-- not the 16 year old boy he is now. He wasn't injured, and luckily, nobody else was. I think it scared him that it happened.

Today, he had a hall pass and asked if he could hang out in my office to "cool off".

I've been praying that God would give me opportunities like this--  in a 45 minutes time frame, we talked (in between my answering phones and handling the Attendance Office). 

KOP shared stories with me that would make most mom's toes curl. Strange, my son has de-sensitized me to these stories.

I listened to him. We connected. He admitted to me that he drinks every single day, because that doesn't show up in a drug test.  Since I'm not a counselor, I must choose my words very carefully. It was my heart of a "mom" that listened and gave him a little bit of feedback...no lectures, though.

My heart aches for him. I looked in his eyes and told him that I care about him. He smiled, and said thanks...

The lunch bell rang, so I signed his pass and off he went.

NOTE:  Sadly, in 2011, this student-- who I called "KOP" died in a car accident. He was behind the wheel, and one of his friends who survived has said that they were both using, at the time. May he rest in peace-- a very sad ending to such a young life, at the age of 18.

The youth pastor, at my church, once said that it takes a lot of time investment to get kids to trust you. Once they open up to you, it's a gift.  He is right. KOP opened up to me. I will not betray his confidence. I am not legally obligated to report what he said to me. Besides, his counselor already knows.

What did KOP share with me? I will blog about it, once I digest it. I can't fix this kid. I can't fix my own son.

KOP is just like my son. There is a pain in his soul that he cannot heal.

This is when I am thankful that I love and believe in Jesus Christ, my Savior. Jesus has healed my heart and soul from all the bad things that have happened in my past.  I don't need drugs or alcohol to dull the pain. I have peace in my life. I have forgiven every single person who has betrayed or hurt me. I have made amends with every person I treated wrong-- including my own mother, before she passed away.

I have worked Steps 1-8, with the help of my Higher Power-- my God, Yahweh.

As I write this, I feel hot of tears, that are building up in my eyes, that want to be released-- for my son and for KOP-- and the kids of the parents who have their own blogs, or who read my blog.

Lord, I lift up to you, your child-- KOP.  I pray that he will admit to himself that he is powerless over his addiction. I pray that he will find his Higher Power...you, who loves him unconditionally.  I pray that he will surrender to his addiction and that he will admits that he has a drinking problem, and that he wants to be sober. Father, please give me more moments with him, and fill me with the words or actions that will glorify You.

Amen

In the blink of an eye...

My son is nothing but drama. Really.

He literally moved out 15 minutes ago. If you want to call pulling up with a friend and his truck, loading up his bed and throwing in a few things.

He was off all day, yesterday, and didn't wash laundry. Had I not boxed up his bathroom (more in an effort to clean it up and making it look nice again), his insulin, and my old dishes, he would have nothing but a bed.

My son is so disorganized.

I also found $40.00 missing, this morning. I asked my son, and before I could finish my sentence, he said "yes, I took it".

He says he was out of money and hoped to replace it before I noticed. He averted his eyes, and he appeared ashamed.

You know what? I'm not even going to make myself crazy wondering why he's out of money, and where it went.

My son moved out 15 minutes ago.

It's time to cut the apron strings.

Right now....

How did I get to be here?

How did I get to be here? How did my life get to this point, mom?

Those were the words spoken to me by my son, the day he was accepted into a medical clinic on April Fool's Day, 2008.

How did my son get to be at this point in his life? That's the million dollar question.

Just yesterday, I was visiting "B" on day #11 since he said "yes" to going in for his first detox. I remember thinking to myself "He's so tall!" I was looking at his hands, with his long fingers. For a moment, I was brought back to a time where he was my precious young boy-- no older than 3 years of age. He was so innocent, full of life and love for his mom. He loved to give and receive butterfly kisses. I was so filled with a hope that he would grow up to have a happy childhood. I can remember how much I wanted my son to be raised without the violence and dysfunction that I had known.

So, how did he get to be where he is today? On April Fool's Day, he was obviously sick-- his body filled with poison. His body is shaking, he feels ill and his beautiful eyes are half closed. I would not know, until the next day, just how loaded he really was. I did not find out, until yesterday, how little he remembers of his two hour drive to a place I had placed my hope in that it would get him well.

It has been eleven days, and I am filled with both hope and fear. In eleven days, I have just scratched the surface to understanding addiction. I am accepting the fact that B has a long a hard journey ahead.

I have attended 3 Al-Anon meetings, so far. It's hard for me to move past the Al-Anon books and pamphlets. Why? Because B's is not an alcoholic. That's a small mercy, but he is still an addict.

So, I have learned to become used to saying "Hi, I'm Debby...and my son is an addict".
I have accepted the fact that there is healing in acknowledging that my son is ill. He is addicted to opiates and he wants to be well.

I am feeling frustrated, fearful and very certain that addicts cannot find recovery unless they are working the program-- I absolutely believe that addicts need to be working the 12-Step program. They need to be in meetings every single day, until they have found a sponsor.

The question is-- will he do this? I know that I will do this. I will work the 12-Steps to help myself and to learn what I can and cannot do to help B. And that is why I have started this blog, TODAY. It is both painful and exhausting to try to explain what's going on. It is my hope that I can direct my friends and loved ones to read and follow along as I share details on my long and difficult journey that I did not buy a ticket to board-- a journey in wanting to support my son's fight to be clean and to stay clean from using drugs.

My son bought this ticket, the first time he was given oxycontin to take. Until two years ago, I had never even heard of this drug. It's evil. It's powerful. It is everywhere-- and it is stealing the souls of our young children.

For two years, I could not tell that my son was using drugs to the depth that he was in. Yesterday, my son confessed all-- it was a lot for me to digest. I hope that my blog will help me process what the two of us spoke about. So, now I know, that addicts will tell their loved ones exactly what they want to hear.

My heart and mind is open, now. I need to try and understand this dark world the my son has entered. I don't want to explore this darkness, but I pray that the light of Jesus will expose this miserable and evil world of drugs. I can't ignore nor deny that I need to support my son, but I might have to say "no" to him. It won't be easy, I know.

My Higher Power of the 12-Steps is the God of the Bible. My Abba Father, My Creator.

How did my son get here, Father? He could, very well, be shot in the head, badly beaten, missing, in an ICU ward or in prison. Thank you, Heavenly Father, for your mercy on him.

You have a plan for him.

In Jesus' Name,

Mom