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

Happy Labor Day and How is My son today?

Today, my husband and I are enjoying a paid holiday. We are truly blessed. Today, my son is working. He is truly blessed to be employed. All over our country, there are countless people who have lost their jobs-- even lost their homes. I am thinking and praying for you.

B has been offered a second job! It's working at a golf course, doing cart maintenance and general work. His friend quit that job to, ironically, take the job that B had at an exclusive and private golf course. B got fired from that job for reasons that remain cryptic, from what my son has said. I have no doubt he was fired because he was using, and pretty much messed up in the head. That was in March of 2008, right before my son hit bottom enough to reach out and ask for help.

If my son truly gets this job-- and his present job will compromise on his hours-- B plans to work two jobs. Essentially, he will work Mon-Fri from 8:00am till 3:00pm and then at the golf course almost every day from 3:00pm till just after dark-- when the golf course closes.

B and I agree that this is either a wonderful blessing-- in that the long hours will keep my son occupied, and hopefully too busy to think about using. He can better afford to support himself.

Or, the extra money will enable my son to buy drugs and fall into a pit of full-blown addiction, again.

Either way, it's in God's hands.

My son called me about 2:00. It was a fast conversation, since he cannot use his cellphone during work hours, or risk being fired. His job is very strict, and B fears being fired. Anyway, he forgot insulin and his blood sugar was at 600. This is very dangerous. He frantically asked me to bring insulin, and then he hung up the phone. I don't have insulin at our home, because I packed it all and delivered it to my son the day he left here.

My head was spinning with fear and panic. But, my husband is right-- we need to let go and let B figure out what to do on his own. B got off work 30 minutes ago, and no phone call. I assume that he got my voice mail that I had no insulin to bring-- I didn't mention this to him, but I do not want to enter his apartment. I was B's new place to be his sanctuary.

I'm enjoying time with my husband. He is so much more relaxed and he's laughing again.

I have 30 days of detox from my son-- that's when the rent is due, and I pray he will have it together. I won't help him, if he doesn't. I promise every single person that I know that I won't do that.

Back to frosting a cake and enjoying a quiet day at home.

Peace. It's wonderful.

Peace, in small doses and an important announcement

As I am typing, B is sprawled out on the couch, next to me. He has been here since 12:30 and he has packed up 95% of his things. At last, the garage is beginning to show hope of having room to move and reorganize. There will be a huge community garage sale, next month, so I plan to sell anything he didn't take. As soon as B's last load of laundry is finished, we will drop him off at his apartment with the last load of boxes. This is the last time! I mean it!!!

I slept very well, last night. So did my husband ("C"). It was nice to have our bedroom door wide open, and to walk around the house without having to reach for a bathrobe.

Yes!

C and I went to church, and I always receive a great message that grounds me for the week.
Afterward, C and I went to "Big Lots!" and I found some real bargains-- A new toaster/oven for $19, a coffee maker for $19 and a set of non-stock pots and pans and kitchen utensils for $34. A bonus find was a set of silverware and an organizer for $10!! I paid for it, and took the money out of B's trust account. My mother would have approved of that, I think.

B's trust account isn't huge, by the way. I have doled it out for my son to buy his first starter truck (since carjacked but insured) and to pay for his rehab (that insurance didn't cover) and basic living expenses while my son was (supposedly) living in a Sober Living Environment. There isn't much, left, but I will not let my son touch it. I want him to have a tiny/modest nest egg when he turns 25.

Anyway, I kept my promise to my son and bought pantry staples for bachelor meals. Me, the aspiring gourmet scratch cooking mom, found it so weird to be buying boxed mac 'n cheese, hot pockets and spaghetti sauce mix. In a way, it was fun for me to take my time buying just enough pantry staples that my son can use to cook basic bachelor food.

I got the tour of B's new apartment. It's fine. It's nothing fancy but it's so overpriced, because of where we live. It's not a dump, and the kitchen is decent. B set up his bed in the living room area. They have very sparse furniture, but I remember that my first place was very sparse at first.

B's friends helped to unload the groceries and some things we delivered for him. They were very appreciative of what had done for B...so was he. I have to tell you that I have grave reservations about his roommate. I will call him "M". For today, I won't go into why. All I can say is that my son and M look, speak and act like total opposites. Think "jock" vs. "gangsta wannabe". B's other friend, "C" gave me a warm hug. They all used together, at one time. They say they are clean. 'Nuff said.

When I left, I told my son I would not be visiting his apartment anytime in the near future. I really feel ready to let go, this time. My son has food to eat for at least a week. He has all the tools he needs to make meals. The rest is up to him.

Before falling asleep, I felt a sense of relief. I visualized B's apartment and that the boys were probably video gaming and talking all through the night. I pray, that this is part of God's plan for my son to "man up" and learn how to survive without me enabling him.

B says they stayed up until 5am. It's a right of passage, in many ways. I figured as much, and I think that freshmen college kids are doing that right about now!

Now, I want to rediscover being a wife and not having to keep tabs on my son. I thought I'd be sad, but I'm not. I am, in fact, totally relieved to have the drama out of our home. I can focus on my marriage, which has survived some rough times. C has been wonderful and supportive throughout this entire ordeal. I love him, very much, and I am so thankful that he is my soul mate.

For those of you who are new to my blog-- and those of you who have faithfully been following my blog-- I want to recommit myself to making this blog my ministry. I hope that you will notice:

• I hope that my story reaches many more parents who are in the early stages of what I have gone through. I pray that this blog will continue to be a place where I can give support and receive it.
• You will notice a new change in this blog very soon. It's going to have a new look, to symbolize a new beginning where I am the mom of a drug addict, who no longer lives at my home.
• You will also see that I will have a new email address and a new profile ID. I finally figured out how to separate this blog from my other blog-- which is my food photography and recipe blog.
• As always, I wish to remain anonymous. To those of you who comment anonymously-- I thank you for your comments and stories. I wish I could write to each of you, but without an email that isn't possible. So, please check the blog for the next few days. I just might be addressing what you shared.
• My new email is: MomsStory@gmail.com

May the Peace of Christ be with all of you.

My story will continue. Thank you, one and all, for you prayers, love, support and friendship.

Love,
Debby

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....

48 hours

The craziness at my job, and life in general, has made it hard for me to sit down and blog about my son. It's my lunch break, so I will try and give an update.

Cut to the chase-- my son is moving out on Friday. B seems very excited about living in his own place. The two of us are getting along great. I decided to drop the whole matter of finding evidence of drug use in his bedroom because it's moot point. He's leaving so what's the point?

Yesterday, my son kept saying how much he's going to miss me. I think the reality that he is really going to be on his own is beginning to sink in. Last night, I paid for his suboxone for the last time. I did not pay for his Ambien prescription. I told my son that, from now on, I would pay for his diabetes supplies and his step dad and I would pay the $395.00 a month for his medical, dental and vision insurance. We figure that next year he will, most likely, be dropped since he is 21 and not going to college. Hopefully, my son will find a job that offers medical insurance. I asked B to see if his current employer would let us pay the fee foro their insurance-- no cost to them, because it might be cheaper than what we are paying. He says he'll ask.

My son and I both got a little emtional, last night. The two of us talked about how much closer we have become. When B moved in with us, last December, I felt that I really didn't know him. He had been living with his father for almost a year, and I felt we were disconnected.

Now, we have had long talks. I've truly learned to back off with the nagging, because it's pointless. B has not been disrespectful to me, either. He really is maturing in some ways!

Is B using? I don't know. I stopped looking for evidence.

In 48 hours, my son is moving out and he cannot return. He will be 21 years old in two months. It is time for Mama Bird to nudge him out of the nest. Drugs or not, I don't think adult kids should be living at home-- unless, they are going to college and cannot afford to live on their own. Or, if unforeseen circumstances happen-- a loss of a job or some medical catastrophe. Other than that, I'm not one to condone adult children living at home, at the expense of their parents. My mother packed my bags when I was 18. Well, in truth, she brought me a suitcase and said "it's time"-- about a week after my 18th birthday. I never looked back and I made it.

Time are tougher, now, I realize. Jobs are harder to find and employers are less willing to provide benefits. My son's employer gives him just enough hours so that he doesn't qualify for paid vacation or insurance benefits.

The way I see it, my son will have $300.00 a month to survive on, after paying rent. That's not much money at all. His car is still not operational, because he can't afford to repair it. I wont' pay for it, and he hasn't asked me to. He's walking or getting rides from people. At least his apartment will be right across the street from his job.

My last thought I will share today-- I am feeling a sense of sorrow and concern for my son. To the men who are reading this blog-- you are wired to view life in a more pragmatic way. I say that, because I believe that women (in general) are wired to be nurturers. Men fix things. Women want to make our kids feel better. I think we hurt, deeply, when our kids are in trouble or injured. I'm not saying that men don't have feelings!Please don't take it that way. My husband is a very caring person. It's just... as a mom, I fight the compulsion to want to "save" my son. I know that, in the end, I have en0ugh common sense to understand that enabling my son isn't going to help him at all. It's so hard, though.

I know this. Still, I will miss my son. My husband and I had a misunderstanding this morning. I was saying that I will miss B when he's gone. I think he interpreted that to mean that I was being silly, since B is only moving 4 miles away. It upset me, that he cannot understand. He's not B's biological father and he's only know B for 6 years. As a mom, I was trying to say I will miss seeing B's body curled up and sleeping on his bed. I will miss hearing his snoring in the middle of the night, when I'm padding down the hallway. I will miss his "what's for dinner, mom?". I will miss his compliments on what I cook or bake. I will miss our watching television together. I will miss my son's presence. I will miss my child, who I gave birth to and I've watched grow up to be a tall and beautiful boy-- in my eyes.

I won't miss the drama, though. I certainly won't miss the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach when a dirty foil or straw is found-- clear evidence of smoking heroin. No, I won't miss that at all. But, I'll still worry and pray and pray.

I guess I'm coming to realize that my job of raising my son is finished. He's a grown young man. I will never stop being his mom, of course. I've done the best I could do-- mistakes and all.

When I look at my son, I don't see a drug addict. I see B. His smile still melts my heart.

I have been hit with a double whammy. I need to say goodbye to my adult son, hoping that he will never return home to stay. He needs to fly away and be a grownup.

I also need to say goodbye to my son, the drug addict. I can only pray, each day, that he will not relapse into full blown addiction.

I also know that I need to let go of my son. I cannot call him or check in on him. He can call me, but I need to help my son to think and survive on his own. I pray that I have taught him enough skills that he will use to live a good life. Of course, he can come and have Sunday dinner with us and we'll have holidays. Of course, I am willing to take him out to dinner once in a while, to talk and visit. Yet, I really have to let me son figure things out on his own. I absolutely will not give him money. He knows that. In fact, he hasn't asked me for any in quite some time.

Last night, we hugged. He held my face in his hands and kissed the top of my head. I'm 5'7, he's 6'3. I used to do that 15 years ago. How time flies.

I will not stop blogging. The story is not over. A new chapter is beginning.

End of lunch break.

Father, thank you for bring my son and I closer together. Thank you, God,
for the miracles you've done for us. I give my son to you, each day, praying
that B will follow the path you have set before him. Please keep him from the
Evil One and thank you for loving us.

Mom