Sins of the Parents (Part 3)...are they passed on to our children?

BEFORE I CONTINUE MY STORY:

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.


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 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. 

Why am I sharing my testimony?

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.

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. This is why I'm sharing my story...  (To read Part 1, click here.)


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.

Relationships with my parents:

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.

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.

Part 2 (Marriage to my son's father)

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.  This was the first time, in my life, that anyone had told me that I was loved. Ever.  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!

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

A new chapter in my life was beginning-- and this one was huge.

Part 3 to come. I've written enough, for today.

Update on my son:
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.

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.

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.

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.

The addiction is bigger than us and an update

My husband reads my blog. It's a weird feeling, in a way. Yet, I am posting my personal story for anyone to read-- people I do not know, are reading my story. When I write, I am allowing my feelings--in the moment-- to manifest through my speedy typing on a keyboard. Sometimes, my thoughts might appear as a very lengthy read. To others, I am honored to receive private emails and comments-- from people who tell me how touched they are or how they are experiencing what I am going through. I read every single comment and email, and I appreciate them.

I'm not a professional writer, by any means. I'm not a drug counselor, a psychiatrist, nor a licensed therapist. I am, simply, a mother who has a son who is addicted to opiates. I am also a mother, who is divorced from my son's father (for about 12 years now) and who remarried three years ago. Corny as it sounds, I am serious when I say I married a good person. I'm not writing this, because I assume that "C" is reading this. I also know that his sister is reading this. I married someone who remained a bachelor into what many people would consider to the "The Stone Age". He has no ex wives in his life and he has no children. Me? I have ex-husbands and one son. Still, he accepted me having received full disclosure from me of my past. I have been completely honest with "C" because he is the kind of person that I feel safe with.

Something that C and I have in common is that both of us were in relationships with addicts. I had a very brief "drive by" marriage between my divorce from B's father and my marriage to C. I don't like to talk about that chapter in my life, very much, because I feel so stupid. I did not know that this person was an addict and an alcoholic. C's relationship with this woman lasted for many years. Neither one of us knew our "significant others" were using...he thought she was sober... I was never disclosed by "him" that he had a drug and alcohol problem. I never knew his dirty little secret, until after I married him and he bled me financially dry and stole from me.

That's more than I meant to share, but so be it...

Ultimately, both of us bailed out of our prior relationships. Neither once of us wanted the addictive behavior to be in our lives, anymore. I could only endure the alcohol and drug use for a year-- he stuck through it all much longer than that. Consequently, he knows more about addiction that I do. Both of us had vowed to ourselves that we would never get involved with an addict again.

So, once again, addiction has come back into our lives...his life. I feel so bad about it. It's not my fault, but I still feel a lot of guilt.

At the time that "C" and I were engaged, he wasn't living with me. B was living with me, full time. I was unaware that B was using drugs the entire time that C and I dated, and became engaged and then married, over the course of 2 years. "C" and I went to see a counselor to ask for advice on how to blend as a family. Our counselor told us that the best role that my husband should strive for was to become an adult role model to B... a "mentor". We were told that this would be a very slow process. B had me all to himself for several years, so we knew that there would be some resentment. The process has, indeed, been slow. Today, I think that my son has begun to notice what a good person it is that I am married to. I think that B is seeing C as a good adult role model. Still, C has been fooled by my son's lies. Understandably, C is not a happy camper.

What I adore about my husband is that he is so dependable. He's the kind of person that you can count on to follow through on his promises. He pays his bills on time. He's a hard working person and treats me in such a kind and generous way. That I think he's the most handsome man I've every met is mine to own. He has finally shown me what a healthy relationship is supposed to be.

My greatest fear is that my son's addiction could tear at our marriage. Right now, I don't feel as though we are in trouble. But, I also know that our marriage is as vulnerable as anyone else's. I have a tendency to become controlling, when I am feeling pressure. I hate it, and I fight it. What most people don't understand is that my wounded child, within (from physical and bad relationships with men) can come out in me. I catch myself lacking patience, or being short with my words. If I'm not careful, I can easily slip into my micro-managing persona and asking "did you do this" or, I need this...NOW. My voice takes on a tone of authority, and less of compassion. I don't even know that I'm doing it, until my son or husband points it out. Then, I feel bad. I don't deny it, and I try to be aware of it.

What people don't understand is that this has become my coping mechanism. I feel more secure with structure and systems in my life. I'm not a free-spirit, if that's a more understandable term.

I'm writing about myself, and this blog should be about my son. But, today, it is important for me to try and sort out what role, if any, I can play in helping my son-- while trying to protect my precious marriage.

I have not had a chance to talk to C. That he tells me he is reading my blog brings me mixed emotions. I feel a little exposed and vulnerable, to him. I know that he's a very private person, and he must worry that someone he knows will read this blog. As for me, I'm a very open person. I will not live my life in shame or secrecy about my son's addiction. I don't like TALKING about it to people-- in fact, I do not want to repeat his story over and over again.

"Read my blog! Try to understand!", are some of the thoughts that go through my head, when people call with the purpose of talking to me. I don't want to talk. I know that sounds rude, but I would rather that people read my blog.

I appreciate when people write to me about their own story, or offer me advice. Sometimes, the advice I receive comes from a person who is not a parent or an addict. I know that they mean well, so I do not allow myself to take offense.

OK, I'm beginning to see that today's posting is getting very lengthy. I apologize to those of you who prefer to read in shorthand. But, today, I need to share my feelings.

Let me fill in what happened since yesterday:

I called my brother, A. He was home, taking a day off. I asked if B could spend time with him. I'm not sure why I called him, but I had hoped that my son would be able to unload to his Uncle, whom he adores. So, I drove B to his uncle's house, just a few minutes away from where I work. At that time, I didn't fully realize that B was in the stages of early withdrawal. I will post more on that another day. To those of you who do not know-- withdrawal from opiates is horrible. I have been told, by addicts who have gone through this, that it is pure agony. It is painful, sweating, vomiting, spasms...it is hell.

I'm getting sidetracked again-- I just spend 1/2 hour talking to a student who is failing all of her classes. I strongly suspect that she is "using". I made her cry, because I drew all of my mother instincts and I connected with her. She is crying out for help, and her mother is clueless that she has straight F's and she is cutting classes. Hello? This girl told me that she thought nobody cared. I tried to give her a pep talk. I want to call her mom (and I know her) to tell her "Wake up! You've put your daughter in five different schools in three years! Changing schools is not doing to change your daughter! Pay attention to her!"

Changing rehab centers isn't going to fix addicts, either, I thought to myself.

Sorry. Back to B's update:

I picked B up from his uncle's house, when I got off work. The three of us had dinner. B said he was hungry, but he was unable to finish his meal. I had to take my night class, so I picked B up from his uncle's around 8:00pm. On the way home, we talked. I listened more, and I let him talk (a newly acquired and vital skill for parents).

He said a lot of things. Are they truth or hopeful promises? Am I being manipulated? I think that they are hopeful truths.

B has an intake appointment on Thursday afternoon. It is for a one year outpatient program, where he is randomly tested and has to attend regular meetings. He believes that this is the program for him. We shall see if his insurance will cover it. He knows that I cannot and will not pay out of my own pocket. I simply cannot afford it.

He asked if he could stay at our house to detox. He has suboxone, to help. He also needs to get better from his strep throat. I have agreed to allow him that. What else could he do? Detox on the couch of house that is inhabited by addicts? I think not.

C was asleep when I got home. I checked my email and then fell into a deep sleep.

This morning, I could see that C looks very stressed. It scares me when I see him this way.

"The addiction is bigger than us", is what he said to me-- with an exasperated tone.

Yes, it is. No matter what the books say... no matter what logic says... there are no fool proof solutions that are universal.

Someone wrote an email to me, yesterday, that echoed exactly what I said to my husband. I said that that "B is a 20 year old inside of a 15 year old mind". Tough Love is not the absolute answer.

C and I need to find balance in how to deal with this horrible situation. We need to find how to give my son a lot of love and hope. We need to learn how to detect the BS Meter. Right now, we cannot focus on his academics or job. We need to find HOW to help my son to help himself.

B is the only person who can be ready to WANT...to desperately DESIRE sobriety. He has to show to himself and to God and to us-- that he means what he says.

It will not happen overnight.

The vigil of sobriety begins...

A Mother's Day with an Addict in Relapse-Afternoon Edition

It's 4:00 and I've been at work since 11:00am. B's friend "L" showed up at my house. She went into his bedroom and shut the door. She emerged a few minutes later and said that B was going to get dressed and go for coffee with her.

B did not seem angry with me, at all. If anything, he looked confused. He's definitely getting his brain to come back into focus, but he's still very groggy. He left with her and I told him that I love him. "I love you, too, mom" he replied.

I just spoke with "L". She says that B has been sleeping at her place and that they've talked. "L" is like me-- a non-addict who loves an addict. She says that B wants to clear some misconceptions with me about what I found and what I know. I don't mean to sound jaded, but I cannot see how my son can explain what an oxycontin pill was doing in his wallet... or what crumpled foil, with traces of smoked heroin was doing in his bedroom trashcan...nor why he was so frantically needing to sell his golf clubs for a fraction of their value... nor why we found a small bottle of urine stashed and hidden. He's using. There will be a urine test given to him, and we will make sure that it's in our bathroom and that he is only wearing boxer shorts. We're on to that trick.

How am I feeling now? Very tired. I had to focus on my job, and I was able to maintain my smile and to be courteous to everyone around me. I don't want to burden my colleagues with my personal problems. That's unprofessional and I love my job.

Back to my son-- I can't tell you exactly what's next. Rehab, definitely. It's our condition for him to return to us. He has to test clean. No exceptions. He must maintain testing clean. Now, I need to add that he agrees to searches of his car and personal items, at any time.

I hate this. All I can think of is how miserable my son must feel. Undoubtedly, he feels really bad about what I found out. He's busted. But, more than that, my heart grieves for how unmanageable my son's life has become. I cannot understand the depth of what it means to be addicted to drugs (or alcohol). I cannot truly understand, but I can only observe that my son's addiction is the ONLY thought that he can focus on. He wants his next fix. Even suboxone didn't help.

Suboxone is not a magic pill. I knew that, but I was so convinced (by my son) that taking a daily dose of suboxone would make sure that my son doesn't use opiates. Anyone who believes that is a fool-- and I was one of them.

There are ways that addicts can "chip" by taking suboxone, then going off it enough days so that when they get their opiate fix that they get that "high" that they want. It is that "high" that my son makes him feel that he has no worries or problems in his life.

Therein, lies the problem. My son says that the only time he feels safe and happy is when he's loaded.

There is the face of the beast-- the demon of addiction that lies and steals the souls of those we love.

More to come...

A Mother's Day with an Addict in relapse - MorningEdition

As I type this, my son is laying on the couch, snoring and very sick. He has a really bad case of strep throat, compounded with bronchitis. I am unable to go to work, obviously. I do not feel it is a smart idea for me to leave my son at home, alone. I will try to blog on today's progress, so please check in througout the day.

How am I doing? I am a wreck. This whole situation feels surreal, and I feel as though I just got news that someone I love just died. I am trying to think calmly and rationally. I cannot cry, though I know that would help to let go of my pain. My husband and I got sporadic sleep, last night. I slept in clothes, in case there was an emergency. We left our bedroom door wide open, and I left the kitchen lights on. I had to clean up B's bathroom, and to put towels around the toilet and sink. He was so out of it, last night, that he urinated in the bathroom sink, all over the floor and toilet.

The best that I can conclude is that my son has 70 of his anti-anxiety pills missing out of 75. This is a prescription that was filled on Wednesday evening. I found a fresh prescription, from a different doctor, that was filled on Thursday. That prescription was untouched. My son drank his entire bottle of cough syrup, to help with his bronchitis. Obviously, B did not tell the doctor or pharmacist that he's an addict. From the web, I think that the combination of both those drugs left my son in a total state of incoherence.

How can I describe to someone what it feels like to see your son walking...no, staggering and barely unable to keep his balance? What comfort can someone give me, if they could see my son trying to talk but all that comes out is slurred gibberish, that cannot be understood at all? All I could do was to soothe him, like when he was a little baby and he had fallen down and hurt himself. I could only struggle to keep my voice soft and encouraging him. I am sure that he has no memory of what he said, or I said.

Throughout the night, B would come out of his room to pee. A few times, I'd hear him in the kitchen and I had to leap out of bed to help him. I found him stirring a pot of water on the stove, but there was no food in it. He was screaming in pain, saying that his throat hurt. Finally, I lured him back to his bed to "relax" and he'd pass out again and snore. Several times, he'd yell out in pain and cuss. I'd jump out of bed to check on him, and he'd be snoring again.

And, so, the vigil kept on through the night. My husband, bless his loving heart, got up at 2am and I could hear him talking to B. B was asking for his cough syrup, and C had to show him the empty bottle. B seemed to be slightly more coherent, but he was still very groggy.

When my alarm went off at 5:30, we were both in a very deep sleep. It was hard for me to not feel my husband roll over and put his arms around me, as he always does. Instead, he was laying on his back, and I felt so bad at how exhausted he must be. I feel so bad that my husband has inherited my burden. I know that he doesn't blame me, but I am concerned that our marriage could suffer from this.

I am, of course, concerned about my time away from my job. I try not to bring my personal problems to work. I've been open about my son's situation, but I try not to let it affect my work performance. I'm fortunate that my supervisor has been compassionate, but I cannot take a lot of time off to take care of my son.

Last night, I did what any loving and concerned parent would do. I got my son's cellphone and I began to search for phone numbers. I wanted to call "key" people in my son's life. I thought of a woman named "C" who has become B's "Foster Mom". She is a woman, around my age, who is a recovering heroin addict. I wanted to call B's two closest friends, whom I know. I also wanted to find his sponsor-- because B has been spending a lot of time with him, and he speaks highly of "D".

I spent a lot of time, on the phone, talking to these folks. I know that my son might become very angry at me for doing this. I will take that chance. My phone calls led me to the truth-- his friend, "Z" admitted to me that the two of them were smoking black tar heroin again. "Z" also told me that his mother threw "Z" out of the house the day before, when she discovered the tell tale aluminum foil with black streaks. I prayed for "Z" on the phone, and I called his mother, at his request. We were able to talk, at length, and offered to support one another.

I was unable to contact B's sponsor, but I got through to his fiancee', "L". "L" offered to come to my house and to take B to his sponsor. I should get a call from her by 8:30, this morning. Last night, it seemed like a good idea. BUT-- B is very sick and he's out of it. I don't know if this is going to work. If it doesn't, I have to call in to work and stay at home with my son. I cannot leave him alone. It is far too risky. I plan to tow his car in to a repair shop (he damaged the steering linkage two days ago, in another accident). There are a lot of phone calls for me to make. I need to find a detox center for him. My son needs a one year program. I cannot afford to pay for it, so I am needing a miracle from God.

We admitted we were powerless over our addiction - that our lives had become unmanageable

How It Works

The fact is that most alcoholics, for reasons yet obscure, have lost the power of choice in drink. Our so-called willpower becomes practically non-existent. We are unable, at certain times, to bring into our consciousness with sufficient force the memory of the suffering and humiliation of even a week or a month ago. We are without defense against the first drink.
- A.A. Big Book, p. 24 (Substitute your own addiction for drink if your addiction is different than alcohol)

I had to cut and paste this in from 12-step.org

I realize that my son truly has become unmanageable. He has sold his beloved television and was just about ready to sell his golf clubs. That's what his addiction to heroin does. He'll sell things for a fraction of it's value, to buy a balloon of black tar heroion to smoke. It's so pathetic...his addiction to opiates has taken over his life again-- or did it every leave? I don't have the heart to tell my son that his car insurance canceled his coverage, as of March 9th. He had two accidents within four weeks, last May and June. The DMV has a telephone appointment with him-- and I'm thinking he might have his licensed suspended. He has a speeding ticket to deal with. He doesn't have a job. He might miss school, because (God willing) we will have him in rehab. He is broke.

The depth of all this hasn't sunk in, just yet. I know, that as soon as my son is wide awake, that the devastation that his addiction has left in it's wake will begin. I am anticipating that he will blame me and everyone else for his relapse. I suspect he will break down and cry. No doubt, he will feel as though he let us down. I doubt he'll be willing to be with his sponsor. He is in denial, and has lied to me so carefully, that I believed he was clean. All of it...everything...was a lie. That's what addicts do so well.

B needs to start at Step 1 and admit that he is powerless over his addiction to drugs. His life HAS become unmanageable. As his mother, I love him so much, that I want to help him with his recovery. But, even that has it's limits. Only B can make the choice to do everything that he can to stay clean.

I know that I love him, unconditionally. But, I might be forced to make tough love choices. I don't want to focus on that, right now.

Enough for now... 20 more minutes to go...

Lord, I am crying out to you for your strength, wisdom and to know your Will. My son is a gift from you. He is not mine to keep, but your own child of God. I pray that you will expose the darkness in his life with your perfect, loving and healing light. In the name of your son, Jesus, I ask that you would protect my son from the evil that wants to claim my son. I ask for a Victory in Your Name.

Encouragement from mom's of addicts

I don't have much to report on my son's current frame of mind. I'm thinking of him, all the time. I'm trying to keep a positive and hopeful attitude. At the same time, I suspect that my son is not prioritizing his finding a suboxone doctor. It's just a suspicion, because I would think my son would call to tell me that he has an appointment. Our health insurance will cover most of his visits, and I will pay he medical deductible-- it's that important to me, that he gets proper help. I've spoken with B a few times, and he sounds "evasive".

I was looking at a photo that was taken of my son, last week. I know that this sounds "cheesy", but he's so darned good looking! He looks like a clean-cut "jock" kid, with short hair and a dazzling smile... but, I'm getting off-topic again.

It's time that I share some emails that have been sent to me. They mean a great deal to me. Those of you who post comments, or who email me privately... thank you.

Hi Debby,

I understand how hard the "tough love" route must be for the parents of the addict. I cannot even fathom the idea of turning my son away, no matter what insanity may have brought him to me for help in the first place.......

A long time ago, I was sitting with a very good friend of mine, someone I met in AA and her mother. We were discussing how her Mom had been in Alanon long before her daughter finally found the rooms of AA. "Marcy" is a heroin addict. She comes from a very wealthy family, one of prestige and success. Her parents each own their own business, and they have homes in several states. Her dad is also a private pilot and they own their own plane. "Marcy" was always a little behind when it came to the success part of her life. Her grades were always so-so and she never felt as tho she ever quite "fit in" anywhere.

When her Mom began to describe the feelings she experienced when first finding out about "Marcy", she wore each of those feelings on her face as though she was once again experiencing all that shock, pain, pity, betrayal, anger, and eventual peace with her daughters addiction.

She went on to tell us about how she kept failing the "tough love" lessons of her program. Her and her husband constantly helped Marcy, together, and eventually behind one another's back. So afraid of where her daughter may end up if they turned their back on her, they felt that helping was much easier than living with the guilt if for some reason, God forbid, God decided to call Marcy home to be with him...... They struggled with their parental responsiblities and their guilt.

She told us that finally, after much prayer and tears, they decided that together, they would turn her away the next time she came to them. No matter what the excuse, story, lie or truth Marcy told them about what was going on, no matter how small and insignificant it might be, they would not help.

Little did they know that their daughter would show up that very same evening, broke, crying, and very scared. Marcy had drug-induced asthma, and she was clearly not doing well. Her parents asked her to wait outside, closed the door, and looked at one another as if to say "Now what?". They proceeded into the garage, got out a laundry basket, and in it they placed a blanket, her inhaler, and a telephone number for a recovery house about 3 hours away. They opened the door, explained they were not only doing what was best for her, but also were doing it for themselves. They explained that by giving her anymore help, they were only prolonging her life of addiction, no matter how small that help may be.
Four days later, the recovery house called to let them know that Marcy had arrived, a little thin, and in complete withdrawal. Since the recovery house was the only place to turn to, she only faced two options. Recovery or life on the streets. She chose the recovery house and has been clean since 1997.

The place she where she finally surrendered to her disease was no country club setting. She was in detox for one week and was immediately placed in their halfway house where she was taught the basics of how to survive, on her own, without drugs.

She had to get a job, *Burger King* I think it was. Certainly a humble beginning for a girl who had so many options of employment at one time not so long ago. They monitored her money, her checking account, and she paid for her rent, food, etc. She had to account for ever dollar she spent, and had to log where she needed to staple every receipt for every penny she used.

She was eventually given a puppy to care for, and she finally found a way to save up enough money to purchase a car, along with mandatory insurance. Again, the recovery house monitored her every move. They allowed her to make her own decisions, and they watched her make some wrong ones. They allowed her to learn, to grow, and to achieve the things she never thought she could.

She came out of that recovery house after over 2 years of learning how to be an adult. She was 23 years old, so young, yet old in so many ways.

Today, she is a wife, and mother of 3 children. She continues to make mistakes, but the kind of mistakes her Mother tells us she can live with.

Just wanted to share some success with you!

Godspeed.

SuboxoneMom
XXOO

Suboxone-- opening my eyes

My son is here. I picked him up on Wednesday night. That was a fiasco all of it's own. Do I start with the frantic phone call that he lost his "cash" somewhere in his apartment? So, I transferred $20.00 into his account to cover his taxi and train fare.

My son called me, on a different cellphone, while I was within 10 minutes of the station (a 90 minute drive for me). His cellphone got stolen. Why? He left it "for just three minutes" by his luggage while he used a bathroom.

It scares me how my son can't seem to function on his own. It didn't make me mad. It made me feel... how can I put it into words... sorrow. I waited for different trains to arrive, and I spotted him. He's tall, so I can usually spot him in a crowd. He looks good, though. Yes, I was happy and relieved to see him.

We got off to a rocky start, because I said to him that his drama is exhausting for me to deal with. He gets really upset when he feels he is being criticized. It's so hard, at times, to not say something. I bought him dinner at the Olive Garden. He hadn't eat like that in a long time, I am sure. He slept the rest of the way home.

Thanksgiving was wonderful and we were all together as a family. I did notice that he would wince, or I'd see his legs "jerk". As a mom, I could see that he isn't well at all. My son is taking suboxone that he is buying from friends. That worries me, sick. I need to get him in to a doctor who specializes in addiction.

I see in my son that he just lays in bed. He's depressed and he's sick. I can see that my son is far from being on his way to recovery.

I discovered a website, and I'm finding so much valuable information about opiate addiction, buprenorphine (suboxone) and other information. There is so much information, that I am going to post the link.

My son is at a meeting, in town. He's is with his sponsor. That gives me some comfort. I hope that this helps my son to talk to someone who understands addiction. His sponsor has 17 years of sobriety.

As a mother, I cannot describe how much it hurts to see my son struggling not to use heroin. He has a really tough battle ahead. I'm going to do all that I possibly can to find the resources for him to get help. I'm open to finding a physician who can help treat my son with it.

Here's the link to the website that I found.

More later.

Mom