Robbing Peter to Pay Paul

It's Saturday morning. I have finished cleaning up the kitchen, started a load of laundry and I'm already planning out how to balance my chore list with some personal time doing things I enjoy most-- reading and maybe watching a TV show I've recorded.  I am thinking of my son.  

The last time I saw him was on Thursday night. I took him to our favorite Italian restaurant, sat at a bar (which I haven't done in years) and bought him his first "Cadillac Margarita".  I remember studying his face-- a face that I find to be so beautiful. I'm looking at his thick dark lashes, and studying his big blue-green eyes. I find myself looking at his beautiful nose. It's long and perfectly shaped. I never liked my nose. I still don't...just random thoughts from a mom who adores her son.  I am looking at my beautiful baby boy, who was born 21 years ago. I'm still amazed how the DNA from his father and from me, has been woven to create this 6'3 young man-- my son.  We enjoy our time at the bar. We laugh. We chat with the bartender. I order small food items from the dinner menu. I explain to my son  how important it is to eat with alcohol-- it seems so weird, I realize, to be having this conversation with my son.  I decline an offer for a second beer. I need to drive home, and I want to be responsible. I'm relieved to see that my son stops at one cocktail.  B isn't much into drinking alcohol. "Thank God", I think. That's all my son needs-- to be addicted to opiates and alcohol.

My thoughts return back to the present. I look at the clock and it's time to pick B up to drive him to his job. It's my opportunity to see my son. As I park in front of B's apartment building, I stop and say a prayer:

Heavenly Father, I pray that you will help me to not to lose patience with my son. Please help me to not put my own expectations of how I think my son should live his life onto him. I pray, that no matter what happens, that you will help me to lift my son up and to not tear him down. Help me, Father, to be the Godly mother than I have asked you to help me be. I pray this in Jesus' Name. Amen.

I glance at my watch, and my son is cutting it close to be at work on time. Then, I remember my prayer. Let go, let God.  I spot my son, walking towards me, looking like someone just died. 


B gets into the car and sighs, deeply.

"Good morning", I cheerily say. What I really want to say is "what's wrong?"

My son reclines the car seat and says "I'm deep in debt, mom".  "I don't see how I can pay it." "I owe $700.00".  My stomach ties up into knots.

It's early November of 1999.  I am at the horse stables, with my son, who has started hanging out at the barn with me. I am going to teach my son how to clip a horse's bridle path (mane).  I have my horse on a halter, and the clippers are plugged in. My horse is acting a little jittery, so I'm talking to her in a soothing voice.  I tell my son to hold the horse by the halter, I've got the rope in one hand. I've turned on the clippers, that are buzzing lightly.  Suddenly, I see my ex-husband "S" (the alcoholic  that I blogged about last week who was B's stepdad) who gets his foot caught in the plastic tarp that covers the hay bales.  S begins to shake his foot that is entangled in the tarp and the sound of it spooks my horse... she bolts forward and knocks me off my feet. In a split second, I am flying through the air and I instinctively put my hand out to brace the fall. I am on the ground and my hand hurts like hell. I look at the hand and it's at an odd angle. It's broken and I go into shock.  People are scurrying around me, and someone grabs my horse for me. The clippers are on the ground, buzzing away....



I am rushed to the hospital and the endorphins that block pain have quit working. I'm now in excruciating pain.  My son is in the backseat while S is driving me to the emergency room.  A emergency room doctor greases my swollen fingers  and pulls off my wedding ring, just in time. I am giving a morphine drip and I begin to relax and the pain ebbs away.  I am told that I have a compound fracture and that I will need surgery-- it's a severe break of my left hand and I will not be able to work for six weeks.  


I remember my son saying "there goes Thanksgiving Dinner!".  Funny, that my son values that my cooking so much, I think to myself-- I remember this vividly.

I remember telling my son that "God will provide".  I didn't know how, at the time. B's stepdad was unemployed. I was self-employed. I was fortunate that I had Blue Cross, and while the premiums were killing me I was thankful that I was responsible enough to have medical insurance.

I prayed and prayed, and my faith in God was at a full test at this chapter in my life.  Miracles happened. My (now ex) sister-in-law kept my business going. Bless her heart, she took on my clients and hers (I was an esthetician and my hands were my living... miracle after miracle happened-- maybe I'll blog about it someday. From that point in my life, I fully commited my life to being a Christian. Before then, I was only dabbling in seeking to know God.

I got through it. God had pulled the cosmic carpet right out from under me, at this time in my life. I had just made a lot of money on a succesful business promotion.   I had all kinds of business ideas on what I was going to do with my financial windfall.  And then, life happened.  It was not to be... but, God had finally gotten my attention.

B went on to say that he had borrowed money from a Cash Advance place...again. He said he had it all figured out and then his hours got cut in half. His voice trails off and he mutters that he just wants to die.  Yes, life happens, I think to myself.

So, I prayed out loud for my son. He interrupted me and said he didn't want to hear it. I trailed off with "amen".

We were quiet for a few minutes, and I was getting close to his job. Finally, I said with a soft voice:

"B, I'm sorry that you are feeling such despair.  I do understand that feeling, because at the time that I broke my wrist I had no idea how I was going to pay house rent, business rent and how I was going to manage. I cried out to God, and I prayed and prayed...and I asked God to show me the way out.  I can only hope that you will take a look at what got you into debt. Drugs do that, as you know. Drugs rob you of everything-- integrity, money and hope.  There is a way out and I am going to pray that you will ask God to show you the way."

I handed my son a bottle of water and some snacks that I packed for him. I gave him $5.00 to buy some lunch.

"At times like this, be thankful that you paid your rent".  "Look for blessings in all of this." I said.

"But, I won't be able to pay rent next month!", he said.  He is feeling such despair and he's hating his life right now.

"Yes, you can.  You have to want it enough, and to prioritize what you need to do. If you want it bad enough, you will find a way".

B gave me a weak smile and walked off to work. As I drove home, I prayed out loud to God and I laid all of this before Him...at the throne of heaven.



We forget that when what seems our darkest hours, that sometimes God has allowed this to happen to us for a reason. He doesn't rescue us, but allows us to suffer the consequences from the choices that we make that are in direct disobedience to Him.

Does this sound familiar?  God is our Heavenly Father. Just as we parents of addicts must allow our children to suffer the consequences of their choice to use drugs-- to beg, borrow and steal-- God is waiting for us to realize that the only way out is to look UP to Him.

My son is robbing Peter to pay Paul. He got himself into a financial mess. I won't even focus on whether or not his debt is from buying drugs or on the expenses his listed out to me. It doesn't matter.  Only God knows the truth.  My son is learning what happens when we borrow money. It's a dangerous game and it has backfired on him, again. No, I won't bail him out. He needs to feel the pain, and I hope that he will finally learn from it.

I do believe in God's miracles. My story of my broken wrist is woven with so many turns and twists that would take thousands of words to tell.  I was so immersed in finding hope, strength and encouragement by reading the bible every single day.  I read the story of King David, while he was being chased by Saul-- and how David cried out to God when he was trapped in a cave.  I read Proverbs and Psalms and underlined them in bright yellow.  I would rock back and forth and cry tears, wondering if God would ever bail me out.

He did. I had to wait for ten years before I was free of debt.  Many times, I felt despair and then I cried out to God.  I never stopped seeking to know God through his word. I fell in-love with reading the bible. I joined a bible study group. I was finally walking with the Lord, and clinging to Him for dear life.  I found strength, hope and courage even when I felt afraid.

Yes, I know how suffocating the burden of debt is.  I know the feeling of hopelessness, as though I could never be free of worrying about next month's rent payment.  I also became keenly aware of how the Dark One will never stop at trying to rob us of hope. He breathes lies into our thoughts-- that we are useless, we are failures. The Dark One shows us the easy way out-- but it's never legal.

My son is under spiritual attack.  I am praying for him-- that God will send him a messenger, today. I am praying that my son will see a way out-- God's way...that my son wll learn the value of integrity and patience.

My son is in that cave.  His enemies are chasing him.

Cry out to God, my son.  He is waiting for you... he loves you. Return to Him, for he is greater than any enemy.  Nothing is too big for God.

I am thankful that God put me in the cave, all those years ago.  My faith grew, that fateful day. When I look back at my prayer journal I used to keep (I need to start doing that again), I can clearly see the blessings that have come out of some of those darkest times in my life.  When life is good, I need to be reminded how Jesus was my rock in the storms of life.

More comments from anonymous folks

Dear Ryan,

I truly hope that you were not offended by the comments that were posted in the last few days. I hope you know that I posted your comment because I felt it had value-- it was worth reading. Listening to addicts speak is something I rarely get to do. I want to understand you. For those of you who missed Ryan's follow-up comment, please scroll down to find it. Ryan, you have been through so much! I appreciate your candor, and I read the pain in what you write.  I hope that you have/start a blog. I would love to continue hearing from you.

I received a private email from someone who said it's okay for me to share it. Here is her story"

My husband is a recovered addict his drug of choice was crack cocaine. For years I along with his mother and father tried to help him stop using. I controlled all of the money, hid the car keys, and watched him like a hawk. In the end if he wanted to use he would no matter what i or his parents did to help or stop him. Finally i was tired and afraid for myself and our children so i left. His addiction continued until he lost his home he than moved in with his parents claiming that he was done of course he wasn't. My husbands parents also were afraid and didn't see any change. In over a year they told him he had to go. Struggling with addiction on his own and no where to go brought him to his knees with his hands in the air surrendering there was only one person who would except him and it was a complete stranger that showed him the way but only if he wanted it under any and all conditions willing to do anything to stay clean.



See it's when we're stripped of everything with NO WHERE TO GO will we get help on our own. And our family and friends can't help us.


We find NA ON OUR OWN when we are brought to our knees not because a family member or probation officer told us to. We find it because in our hearts we are done and can't go another day in this life.



My husband will be seven years clean in February and are family is together and safe thanks to NA and helping other fellow addicts.


It's there if he wants it, but HE has to want it completely!

I am returning to work, after battling a cold so I don't have time to write much.   Your comments mean the world to me. That is why I post some of them so that nobody misses them.

More food for thought from a comment from "our" side

I am starting to really appreciate  the lively comments that happen when I post a comment that I've received.  I posted Ryan's comment, because I appreciated what he had to say. I would like to post a comment to that comment-- one that was sent from Fractal Mom.  Ryan-- and anyone else who is an addict-- I mean no disrespect or offense.  In all fairness I wanted to post a very thoughtful comment from a parent who has been on my side.

Before I post the comment, I want to share my view from those of you who are encouraging me to help my son get out of his dangerous situation.  Angelo, this is also a time I want to say how much I feel that you have become a caring "friend" on my blog, and I thank you. You don't have an email address, and that's okay. I'm anonymous, and I certainly can understand why others remain anonymous. Isn't that part of the "program"?

Anyway-- when you read Fractal mom's comment, she reflects much of how I feel. My son has lived with us twice. We allowed him back into his childhood home to help him go to college and to find sobriety.  My son never completed one college course. Not one.  Expensive books were lost, and our money thrown away with it. Unfortunately, my son has relapsed multiple times-- despite the love and encouragement we (his step dad and I) gave him. Multiple times, we found the telltale foils hidden in his room. Multiple times, my son had stories on how they were old. We did the drug testing, and my son cleverly hid stored urine in a body cavity that he shrewdly switched in the bathroom--though my husband stood outside an open door. I felt so deceived when I found out that all the "negative" results were a lie. My son knew that he would have to move out, if we found drugs in the house. After several "second chances", this move is final. I cannot allow my son to move back. The only way I would change my mind is that my son has been clean and sober for one year, has a job and wants to go to college. That's it.

As far as my son's trust fund goes-- what's left of it (most went to pay for his rehab), there is only enough to pay for a sober living environment for 2-3 months. Tops. I won't allow it, anymore. My mother worked hard, her entire life, to save this small token of her love for her grandson. That money was intended for my son's college, or for something that would be a good thing.  My mother's heart would break if she knew that her grandson was a drug addict.  I can't throw the money away for drug addiction, anymore.  I am the trustee of this money for four more years. I pray that my son will find sobriety, by the age of 25, and that this money will be a precious gift from his grandmother...who loved him very much.

My son's dangerous living situation is a direct result of his own choices. My son chose to lie to us, and he brought drugs into the house. My son chose to buy drugs, on credit, and then found that he works and works, only to pay off drug debt.  While my son is a sweetheart, when he is sober, he has to make a decision on what to do. All the options and tools are before him. I ahave empathy for his addiction, but there are countless folks who are working a program, and who are staying clean. I have reached the point that I cannot be the person who enables his inability to learn to think for himself. I must distance myself, as much as I can. I could help my son, in a heartbeat, to move out of his apartment.  But, once again, I would be the person who enables B's inability to figure things out on his own.  My son needs to learn to take care of his own messes. I believe that my son wants sobriety, but I don't think it's top on his list.

So, without further adieu, I want to share what Fractal Mom had to say.  It's raw, and it's obvious that she's been through so much heartache.  She speaks words of wisdom that parents who struggle with codependence and enabling their addict children to take a look at the results:

well. I have the following to say to any parent of an addict who is entertaining the idea of letting the addict live in their home while they attempt sobriety.

any other kids in the home? (bad move)

do you work or can you devote your entire life to 'assisting' the addict in his/her quest.

can you sleep with your purse and all your valuables?

can you provide 24 hour eagle eye watching?

can you use every single iota of your energy on the addict and leave nothing for yourself?

I don't hate addicts. I hate what they and the addiction do to the real victims, the families of addicts.

we spent almost 8 years trying to be supportive and allowing our addict to be surrounded by loving family members to help her find sobriety. She went on to have two children, steal us blind, and screw up my relationship with her three siblings who ended up hating her for taking their mom away from them because all of my energy ended up going to 'being supportive' and also taking care of her children while she was still using over and over.

Yah, if you are single, have a good income, work from home and have lots of time and energy to devote to your son, maybe it's a good idea.

but truthfully, an addict who WANTS to get clean will find a way.

anything else is just plain old enabling. Not supportive.

Ask anyone who has been there for over 10 years with a heroin addict child, male or female. Living in the home DOES NOT WORK.

And, it puts you at risk of losing your home in a drug bust.

just my opinion.

An Anonymous Comment from "the other side"

This comment was left on my blog yesterday. Ryan-- whomever you are, thank you for your honest feelings and suggestions. I wanted to post this, today, to share this with other moms. I have to remember that my son doesn't measure time the same way that I do-- because I am sober and he's not. I think my son wants to be sober, but he is trying to do this alone. He can't. I hope that you will continue to visit me, and talk to me. I respect your anonymity.

Anonymous said...

Hello.. My name is Ryan and I have been reading your blog for about 3 months now. I am 23 and an opiate addict myself. I initially started reading your blog to gain perspective on how it must be for my mother dealing with an addict. I feel horrible for all mothers in this situation but I feel just as horrible for the addict whose parents make getting sober that much more difficult. I am not at all insinuating you are making things difficult for your son as you are doing the best you can. But take what I say with a grain of salt... I am sure by now you have figured out an addict doesnt just get sober over night. It is a battle everyday. A day in the life of an addict feels like a solid week compared to that of a sober person. A week feels like a month and a month feels like a year. You may not understand why your son cant make it more than 5 days. Hopefully that gives you a little insight. I know you feel he needs to be on his own as most parents do at our age. That is perfectly fine, but as long as he is in the situation he is in there is no hope of him getting sober unless he has the will of GOD. You shouldn't feel guilty for helping him get into a situation that allows him the best possiblity for sobriety. Whether that be at your home or a sober roomate. They tell us in rehab that our odds are 1/20 of getting sober. Help create the best possible odds for him assuming he really does want to get sober. Everyone is different but for me I had to move back home. I love my mother very much just as he does you. Being around her daily and having that responsibilty to her helps me tremendously. Yes it sucks if I want to get high but her presence humbles me. She always knows when I am high. You should too. All you have to do is look for the pinpoint pupils in your sons eyes. I am by no means in recovery yet as I just recently relapsed from a 34 day sobriety streak. But I know what doesn't help me and a roomate situation like that would eventually take me off the deep end. Get him out of there ASAP. Maybe I am wrong but thats just my 2 cents. On a positive note, I enjoy reading your blogs and they have definately been of help to me as it helps me feel the pain I cause to my own mother. I hope all works out for your son as this is a miserable existence. But remember we will be better people because of it in the end

Happy 21st Birthday, Baby Boy!

Yesterday, November 1st was my son's 21st birthday. It is so true when people say that the years slip by fast.  I woke up extra early, because of the time change. I immediately thought of B-- recollecting the day that I went into labor, and the joy of being a stay-at-home mom.  Presently, when I think of B, I feel more a sense of sadness for HIM. Still, I have no regrets on being a mom. I loved it then, and I still love it now.

I wish I had positive things to blog about, though. It seems that my son's life is a magnet for drama. Right now, my son's biggest source of anxiety is with his roommate-- "M".  M is an ugly drunk. I don't like being around drunks at all.

Pause a moment.

I've never admitted this on my blog, before, but I had what I call a "drive by" marriage in between my divorce from B's dad (a 17 year marriage) and my marriage to my best friend an husband-- "C".  B was 11 years old, at the time. I met "S" and he courted me very aggressively. I married him less than a year after we met.  Cutting to the chase, the reason that I married "S" (against the advice of my BFF) were several:
1.  He was nice to my son, and B didn't get very much attention from his dad.
2.  I was a single wife while I was married to B's dad. I was starved for affection and attention, and "S" provided plenty of that.
3.  "S" was a Christian-- or so I thought.
4.  "S" wanted to move in with me, and I would not live with someone I wasn't married to.


What I did not know-- until I said, "I do" was that "S" was an alcholic. He was a "mean" alcoholic, too.  S stole money from me. S couldn't keep a job. In the end, I finally found out the truth of S's alcoholism when he got arrested.  At that time, I discovered the ugly truth about the man I had married:
1.  He had two social security numbers.
2.  He had been fired from his last job and lied to me about it. When I found out, he said he was ashamed to tell me.
3.  He was selling house loans on a suspended realtor's license.
4.  I was wife #5.
5.  He had a warrant out for his arrest for a DUI.


It wasn't until I went to the jail to see about bailing him out that I learned he had $7000.00 CASH in his wallet (I was struggling to support the three of us), and that his driver's licensed was a California ID Card.


Stupid, stupid, stupid.  I divorced him a few months later and it's a chapter in my life that I don't like to talk about. I have no idea where he is. I only know that he remarried less than a year later. I pity the woman.

As for my marriage to C-- he is a God send. I adore my husband. He is kind, honest, thoughtful and I admire how his faith in Christ is growing. I told him everything when we first started dating-- and he accepted it without judgment. I am blessed to be his wife.

Why am I telling you this? Because it's why I have no patience with drunks. I lived with one, and it was my first eye-opening experience.  I have struggled to find forgiveness for what he put me through. I still struggle with it, because he never said he was sorry and he left me in debt-- which I finally paid off after years of working two jobs.

Saturday night, I picked up B from his job. B was dressed clean and looked good. (He had eaten dinner at my house on Friday and washed all of his clothes.)  We had a nice visit, too. At a stop light, I noticed a taxi. There was B's roommate, waving at us.  I waved back and look straight ahead. I told B that I was not going to pull over and offer M a free ride home. That's not very Christian, but now can you understand my anger trigger about alcoholics?  B's cellphone rang and it was M, saying that I looked like I "hate" him.  I don't. I just don't want anything to do with someone who is in such a dark place. I pray for M. He needs helps.

Back to my son's birthday-- I called my son to wish him a Happy Birthday.  We decided that we'd take him out to dinner tonight (Monday) because he had plans to party with M and friends. 

This is getting too long of a story- and I apologize for that. Bottom line, I gave B a ride to work.  I saw M walking behind him, and I noticed a big scab on M's face. I asked B what happened?

"Oh, you noticed that?", he asked.

How could I miss it, I thought.

B proceeded to tell me that at midnight, November 1, M and B walked to a local restaurant/cocktail lounge so that he could have his first legal drink. He said that M was already drunk and he noticed a car that he thought were "friends" of his. According to B, M stepped on one of the guy's "Jordan's" (shoes) and the scrap (unkind term for Mexican) got mad and beat him up. B said he walked away, but in the distance he saw M getting jumped and then the guys ran away when M pulled a knife.

Nice, huh? This is who my son lives with.

B says he's working on finding a new place to live. I hope so.

I felt sad that my son's birthday was so eventful with such evil things.

The only "nice" memory I have of this weekend with B was when he told me that he has saved all the letters I've written to him-- several which I have posted on this blog. He said they make him cry, but that he realizes how much he loves me.

I can only pray that, one day, my son will want to walk out of the dark world he is in-- and  back into God's perfect light.

I will never lose hope.  I told my son, on his birthday, that despite all we've been through that I have no regrets that he was born. I don't. He is a gift from God, and I was entrusted to raise my son to know the ways of the Lord. I got a late start in that, but I am committed to not keep my love of God ad my faith under wraps. Though I sometimes feel that non-believers click off my blog because I praise God's name, it won't stop me.

So, we shall see if dinner happens tonight.  I'm fighting a cold, and I'd rather be in bed right now. For now, when I think of my son I think of God-- and pray that the prayers being said for him are being answered.

Thank you for your prayers.