Dawn's Early Light and Quiet Thoughts

I am married to a remarkable man.  C has borrowed one of my own Golden Rules that I've practiced for several years. That is, I have a 24-hour rule that I practice when I am feeling angry, upset or afraid. I do this, to avoid knee jerk reactions.  It works quite well, actually.  Many times, I find that I come up with a solution... a compromise... or just peace.  That, I believe, is the voice of God answering my prayers. This morning, I noticed that my husband seemed distant.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I need 24 hours", he responded.

Yikes. Of course, I immediately did a mental inventory on what I might have said or done wrong.  I prayed about it, this morning.  Then, I came home from work. C was ready to talk...

It wasn't me at all.  C had found my missing kitchen paring knife and a foil.  The knife had residue on it. He didn't know how to tell me, he said-- or if he even wanted to tell me.

Tonight, I asked him to talk to me.  I was not expecting to see the drug paraphernalia.  I was devastated. I got that tight and sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.  I could feel bile. I could feel tears welling way in the back of my eyes, but never quite spilling out. You know what I'm talking about, parents of addicts, don't you?

I sat there, numb.

Then, I ran to you-- my friends, family and bloggers. You were there for me.  I began to do something I've procrastinated doing-- and set up my Google Reader with all the RSS feeds, so I could catch up on many of you. My heart ached for your pain.  I read of your loved one's setbacks. I scrolled and read....

Then I felt I wasn't alone. YOU understand. YOU know what it's like. 

So, what happened?

B came home and he began with an explanation.  My amazing husband looked right at him and said, "that doesn't add up. Tell us the truth".

I could see my son's throat swallowing hard.  His eyes were downcast.  He stuttered. He hesitated. His eyes welled up for a brief moment.

He admitted, to us,  he'd been chipping. 

My non-Christian, immediate gut reaction was "how in the hell is that possible?!"  But, I didn't say it. I only thought it.

Here's B's explanation:

He says that in May, the tapering down of methadone began. He was only on 28mg a day and was down to 8 mg. He was feeling lousy.  Remember that we live in California, and methadone laws vary by state.  B says that there are laws on not being able to just jump the dose up. He couldn't take the withdrawals, he says. So, be bought  a bag, and stretched it out....that is, he didn't smoke it all at once.  He says he's been doing it just the last two weeks, and not a whole lot. He said he couldn't afford it. He was buying methadone, off the street, but that cost more than heroin. He swears that's true. If he couldn't find pills, he bought "black".

I believe that part.  He is now up to 40mg of methadone and he plans to stay on it for at least six more months. He says his counselor knows he used and that they are proud of him going back on methadone. His father will help pay half the $450.00 a month and B plans to pay the other.

So, where do we go from here?  I have to say that I am amazed at how calm my husband was.  He told my son that we would have respected his honesty with us-- that he should have told us how sick he felt and that he needed help.  But, I understand why my son didn't.  I get it. I've talked to enough addicts who say that's the last thing they can do.

I should make my son leave. Now. It's what we agreed on.  So, here I am in the same situation as Barbara and her son Keven.  Or Ron and his son Alex.  Did my son "f" up this once?  Do I give him another chance?
Has he stolen from us? No.  He is working two jobs. He is paying rent to us.

So, I need my 24-hours.  I need to pray. As of late, I haven't done my ASAP yet. That is "Always Say A Prayer".  Me, the God loving, Jesus following Christian.  I've been spiritually paralyzed for too many weeks. I think I've become overwhelmed with stress from work, my son, his health, his dental work that is costing me a fortune.  Instead of running to the throne, I've been running to the kitchen.  I've been eating and I don't feel good about my weight nor how I feel overall.  I need to go back to God's throne.

Just this morning, I was talking to God as I drove to work. I was telling Him that I am so distracted, and I feel as though I'm heading into some sort of depression.  That's not me, typically.  I also know these thoughts are not coming from Heaven.  I feel as though I am under spiritual attack.

So, how am I feeling at this very moment?  Sad. Disappointed.  I told my son that my concern is what is his Plan B when he comes off methadone-- whether it's due to lack of funds or the end of his program?  What will he do when the temptation comes to use? It will come. It's guaranteed.  How will he find support when he has an overwhelming urge to use.

Oh. One more thing.  He bought the heroin from someone at the methadone clinic-- a patient. The very woman who used to deal to him but cut him off.

How I pray that woman will be busted. But that's only scratching the surface.

My son will always be a drug addict-- until the day he dies.  What he can be is a drug addict, who is clean and sober-- and who has a support system and  sponsor that he can go to when he feels the need to use.

If anything-- I ask that prayers for my family would be for Wisdom.  We shall see what the Dawn of Morning brings.  May God give me wisdom in my sleep tonight.  I pray that I will be given restful sleep and clarity in the morning.

Thank you for your support and comments.  I can feel the love and support.