Hanging on to this blog-- for you

 ****THANK YOU RON, FROM "AN ADDICT IN MY BEDROOM" FOR ADVISING ME THAT MY BLOG GOT HIJACKED.  These people are evil. It turns out that a widget got modified from some mystery planet. I am back!***


I have such a hard time to find the will to log on to this blog to write.  It's like I'm paralyzed, and unable think of what I want to write about.  Have I run out of things to say?  Am I helping anyone?

My son's addiction is in "limbo".  It's like, I'm holding my breath.  It's been five months, now, that B isn't using.  To say that I'm relieved, is an understatement.

I try to remain optimistic, and my son is a completely different person.  I try not to "what if" my thoughts.  I am living in the moment.  My son is "normal".  The friends he once used with are out of his life.  When he isn't working, he's on his X-Box with his online gaming.   He is on a very low dose of suboxone, and seeing his doctor on a regular basis.  He says he has absolutely no thoughts or desire to use.

Exhale.

What prompted me to write is a comment that I received today:

I found your blog today. I'm 22 my story is very similar to your sons. Your blog is probably my moms thoughts. My mother and stepfather recently discovered my use. I've been addicted to opiates for 7 years, and I've hid it from most of my friends and family when they found out I said I was commited to quiting, but I wasnt. I quit for a couple days and relapsed. I relate to your sons lies and escapades. I just am having trouble seeing a life after this monster. I feel so empty and broken. I feel so bad for my mother and everything she goes through because of me. I dont know where to start but thanks to your blog I know I definetely want to start. I know I am not the daughter my parents dreamed of but maybe one day I can be

This knocked the emotional wind right out of me.  How I wish I could give this young woman a warm and loving hug.  How I wish my son could sit down, with her, and tell her what did and did not work for him.

I still receive private emails from parents whose hearts are breaking.  It brings up feelings of sadness that I thought I had healed from.

I feel so helpless.  I wish I had the gift of writing in such a way that I could give someone solid advice, or answers.

I'm just the mother of a drug addict.  I'm a woman who leans on my faith in God, to give me the strength I need, when times are tough.

I used to blog here, several times a week.  I had blogs I'd visit, and bloggers who would visit me to encourage me.  Many of those bloggers are gone. I often wonder what happened.

Once in a while, I wonder-- is anyone reading this?

Then, I get a reader who leaves a comment about how I've touched them.

I'm here.  I won't abandon my blog.  I just don't have a whole lot to write about, because our life is "normal" and peaceful. Amen.  I pray that I will never have to come here because I am afraid for my son-- because he has returned to his former life.

I think the reason that I avoid coming here, is fear of dredging up painful memories.    I have forgiven my son, and I rejoice in where he is today.  But the pain is there-- enough for me to continue to have compassion for those of you who are addicts-- and those of you who are the loved ones of addicts.

Hang on to hope.  My son beat the odds, and we are closer than ever.  I give the Glory to God, and His Mercy.

Summer Time Thoughts

 It's not officially summer, but I'm ready.  The school year has ended, and in one week I will be on my four week summer break. Amen.

Every day I pray with thanks that my son is doing so well.  His life is "steady".  He still has the same job (two years), and really likes it.  He has entirely new friends.  B keeps things really simple. He sleeps in, plays his X-Box online, gets ready for work right as I'm headed home from work.  He comes home, repeats cycle.

B is no trouble at all.  He pretty much lives in his room, with the big Plasma TV that he saved his money to buy.  He's respectful and I believe he's not using. #1 Sign - he has money. All the time. He doesn't ask me, or his father, for a penny.  He pays the rent on time, and never complains.  His car always has gas.

I'm not bragging at all. I'm rejoicing.  Sometimes, I allow myself to go back in time-- as little as six months ago.  B was always broke.  I try not to do this, very often, but if I really go back in time-- like five years ago-- I don't think I've ever felt so afraid of anything in my life.

These were dark times.

For anyone who is reading my blog... those of you who have emailed me... I hope that I never, EVER forget those times.  I hope that my son never does.

There is hope.

Though those Dark Times, my faith grew even stronger. I learned to cry out to God, and to learn what it means to talk to God.  I learned how to draw closer to Him.  I learned how to really pray.  I mean, get down on my knees and pray.  I learned how to close my eyes and tell God how afraid I was.  I learned how to trust Him.

Every so often, I get anonymous comments telling me what a fool I am to believe in Jesus/God.  It doesn't offend me at all.  If anything, I pray for that person.

A while back ago, I started to share my very personal past, that would lead up to my own testimony as to why I believe in a God that I cannot see. I believe in a God, whose audible voice I've never heard. I have discovered the treasures in God's Word, and yes-- I believe in all those "Fairy Tales" in the bible.

I was once an Agnostic.  I once thought that God was all a hoax.  I had resigned my life to be one where I would do what I want, when I want. I convinced myself that when I die, I die. End of the line.

But God had plans. I've been through a lot of personal pain and betrayal in my life.  It prepared me for the day I found out that my son was addicted to drugs.

My son's addiction gave me deep roots in my faith.   My son has been spared from a certain death or incarceration, and I give all the glory to God.

So, if you're an Atheist, and you want to attack my faith-- go ahead!  Hit me with your best punch.  It won't change who I am.   I take that back...

God has changed who I was.

I pray that those of you who are feeling so afraid...so lost... who feel that there is no hope-- that you would know that I was once there.

God is my rock, my fortress, my hope.

I pray that for each of you.  Every day.

I'm sorry I haven't been blogging much. I'm still here.

Hopefully, this summer break, I will have more time to write.

To All Mother's of Drug Addicts...

To all you Mothers of Addicts,

I sincerely hope that you family is honoring Mother's Day by  giving you praises, tokens of appreciation-- flowers, brunch or a bauble or two.  No matter what our addict children are going through, we still love them. Unconditionally.

At church, today, the message was focused on being a mom. Of course, it would be! It's Mother's Day.

Matthew 15: 21-28

The Faith of a Canaanite Woman

²¹ Leaving that place, Jesus withdrew to the region of Tyre and Sidon. ²² A Canaanite woman from that vicinity came to him, crying out, “Lord, Son of David, have mercy on me! My daughter is demon-possessed and suffering terribly.”
²³ Jesus did not answer a word. So his disciples came to him and urged him, “Send her away, for she keeps crying out after us.”
²⁴ He answered, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel.”
²⁵ The woman came and knelt before him. “Lord, help me!” she said.
²⁶ He replied, “It is not right to take the children’s bread and toss it to the dogs.”
²⁷ “Yes it is, Lord,” she said. “Even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.”
²⁸ Then Jesus said to her, “Woman, you have great faith! Your request is granted.” And her daughter was healed at that moment.

If you don't read the bible-- or don't believe in it-- the Reader's Digest Condensed version of what this scripture means is that the "dogs" is referring to the "Gentiles".  This scripture really touched my heart and soul.  What I got from this, is that I do believe that my faith (and I am a Jesus Loving, Bible Believing Christian) and my persistent prayers for my son have been answered.  More importantly, this scripture reminds me that even just a crumb of faith-- and you don't necessarily have to be a devout church-going Christian-- but to just believe and trust and pray-- prayers can be answered.  All we need to do is "ask".  We cannot receive what we don't ask for.

As Pastor reminded us-- being a young person, today, is more difficult than ever.  My son has so many bad influences all around him. Come to think of it, so do I!  Today's generation is so desensitized by profanity, sex and drug use on television, in movies, books and magazines.  As Christians, we are under attack.   Without my faith, I would be weak against all the temptations that surround me, every day.

As I bowed my head, in prayer, I gave a heartfelt thank you to God for all that He has done for my son.  Sometimes, when I reflect back on the last few years, I know that I could not have endured the heartache and fear without my faith in Jesus Christ.

My blog has been such a comfort to me-- it became a place where I could vent, cry, complain and share my deepest and most personal feelings.  I met some wonderful people, who supported me through all of this.

Today, my son is clean and he is employed.  I received a beautiful bouquet of roses and my favorite chocolates from B.  That means more to me than I had imagine.

It means that my son is alive.
It means that my son has money to buy things--and it's not drugs-- and that he earned that money with hard work, and honesty.
It means that my son took the time to buy something for his mom.

Today-- this Mother's Day-- I feel an emptiness and sorrow that my mother has been gone for ten years.  I no longer have a mother to call, and invite to brunch.  Now, I am a mom, and it's my turn.  I have to take all that my mother taught me, pick what's best and let go of what isn't-- and try to be a positive influence on my son.

I will continue to be a praying mom.  I'm so thankful that I never gave up on my son.  He's made mistakes, and he will always fight that demon of drug addiction.  I do believe that he has found happiness and has surrounded himself with new friends, who aren't addicts. Amen.

Today, I lift up in prayer, those of you moms whose children can't call you-- be it from jail, or that they are no longer with us.  I pray for you moms, whose kids are somewhere, and you cannot call them.  I pray for you moms, who are just beginning my journey-- for your fears, pain and anguish.  I know it well.

May God give each of you the strength, courage and wisdom that you need to find serenity in acceptance.  May your addict come home to you-- and be free of those demons that destroy our joy.

Never give up. Pray. Believe. Hope.

God does answer prayers.  I know this. I am living it.

Happy Mother's Day

Waiting.... processing... transcending

I apologize, deeply, that I have not responded to emails in the last few weeks.  This blog is very important to me.  The beginning chronicles my very personal story about coming to terms with the fact that my son is an addict.  Over the last four years, I have shared my very raw, honest and open feelings about being the mother of a drug addict.

Please know that I do read every single email that comes to me.  I try to answer back, as quickly as I can.  I've heard such sad stories from so many of you faceless people.  You say you are so relieved to know that you are not alone.  I feel the same.

Something has changed, recently, and I need to come to terms with it.  It's not a bad thing about my son-- who continues to do very well in his recovery.

One thing that has changed, a lot, is that my son is now reading my blog.  I knew, all along, that one day he would read it.  I hoped that by his reading my own personal feelings, that he would better understand what it was like for me-- the hurt, fear and pain. I'm okay with him reading it, but it does make me think twice about what I should or should not write.

I will continue to update this blog, because I truly hope to be a place where addicts-- and loved ones of addicts-- can read my story.  I'm not an expert, but I am a mother who can finally exhale.  My son is alive and well, employed, sober and our relationship has been healed.  I absolutely love my son with all of my heart.

So, what has happened?  Someone who knows us is also reading this blog.  Sadly, that person has their own pain (as I see it) and has been using what I've written to try and hurt my son.  I don't have all the details, and my son doesn't really want to talk about it.   The emotions I am feeling will take some time to sort out.   I have been very open in sharing my blog to people in my community-- only because both my son and I want to share our story, to HELP people who are going through this.

At this moment, I'm feeling like this person cannot have enough respect to just let us be.  Our story isn't to be mocked or used against us.

I won't let this person cause me to abandon my blog, nor am I angry with that person.  I actually feel sorry for them-- that they are so callous and behave like a "bully".  Sadly, this person is a grown adult, who cannot see that my son has worked so hard to overcome something that so many other have failed to do-- change their lives, their friends and find sobriety.   All those old friends, who dragged him down, are out of his life.  He has new friends, a job he likes and he's becoming a responsible young man.

I will write again, but I just have to process the new revelation.  If "you" are reading this blog, I hope that you will find enough respect to give us the privacy that we need.   What I have to say comes out of a caring heart, who wants to help someone.   Please don't come here, anymore, if your intentions are to be cruel.

'Nuff said.

That is why I haven't blogged in a while. I'll get over it, but I need time to process and to feel uninhibited about sharing some very personal thing about me, and my family-- like I've said-- to "help other".

Again, I have saved emails I've received in the last few weeks. I'm so sorry I haven't answered or responded online.  Please, do not think it's because I don't care.  I do.  That's why I write.

Looking Back in the Rear View Mirror as the Mother of a Drug Addict

April Fool's Day came and went-- and that day will always hold a bittersweet memory in my life. It was on April Fool's Day, 2008 that my son climbed into the backseat of our Jeep, before the sun came up. We were headed north, for a two-hour drive on California Highway 101, to a rehab center.

Four years ago, I was so naive about drug addiction.  I had all kinds of preconceived notions about drug addicts.  I tried to bubble wrap my son, the best that I could, as every good parent does.  I wanted my son to grow up as happy as possible (which was short-circuited by my divorce from his dad).  I had hopes and dreams that B would graduate from high school, and be the first member of our family tree, who would go on to college and graduate with a degree.

Raising my son, as a divorced mother, was one of the most difficult times of my life.  I had just started my own business.  I did not receive alimony nor child support.  Every day, I prayed to God that I would earn enough money to pay the rent for our home, and my business.

As my son grew into adolescence, I did all the things that a good mother should do. I wanted to know my son's friends and their families. My son had curfews and chores to help around the house. Though I dated ( a little) I never introduced my son to the men in my life.  I vowed that I would never bring a man into my bed, as I wanted to set a good Christian mom example for him (and I did keep that vow).

Middle School was a tough time for me.  B was beginning to show signs of rebellion. That sweet child was becoming bolder with his back-talk.  As I look back, I realize that my strict childhood would begin to haunt me.  Because I was a battered child, there were times that the overwhelming desire to slap my son was something I had to fight against.  I had also made a vow to my brother that we would never hurt out children the way we had been hurt.   Disciplining my son grew harder and harder. B tested me to the limits--

Unfortunately, as I look back, my son would move out of my house when things became too tense. He'd move in with his father, who B perceived to be easier to live with.  In some ways, I felt it was best for my son to be with his father-- only because I wanted his father to be that male influence in his life.

It was during this time that I feel I lost the ability to see the Darkness that was beginning to come into B's life.  B tells me that he started to smoke weed, and then eventually used cocaine, in middle school.  I had absolutely no idea.   It pains me, at times, when I see how I missed these important clues.

So, high school is when it all began.  The pills from a girl.  Oxycontin became the first step that spiraled into my son's addiction to heroin.  All the while, I had no idea. I knew that something wasn't right, but my son was living with his father-- most of the time.  I was so happy to have my son come back to my home, that I think I was living in denial.  A drug problem? Never entered my mind.

Four years later, my son is living with us again.  "Us" would be the wonderful man that I met eight years ago, and married in 2006.  Only, this time, my son is 23 years old.

I mentioned to B that the four-year anniversary of my blog was coming near.  His response was interesting.  "What's to celebrate"?  I looked puzzled, at first.  Then I realized that he isn't proud of what's happened over the last few years.  B stayed clean and sober for about six months, when he left his rehab.  Then, he relapsed.  That cycle was to continue off and on, until now.

As of now, B says he has not used drugs for about six weeks.   That seems so short a time, and yet it is something to be thankful for.  Addiction to opiates is not easy to get a grip on.   I knew that my son's odds were not in his favor.  He's tried suboxone, and then methadone.  I think they helped to curb his relapses, but didn't work 100% of the time.  B found ways to "chip".

I want to apologize for not writing, much, since my son's last interview.  I have received a few private emails, and I have not responded.  My job is very demanding, so I'm pretty well drained by the time I get home.  My son's job schedule has him passing mine, like two ships in the night.

I can tell you that I am so thankful for the positive changes I see in my son, today.  He has held his job for close to two years, now.  He seems very happy, where he works.  He is paying rent to us, faithfully. He pays for his car insurance.  Best of all, he has money in his pocket! Amen.

So, here goes another clue that totally went over my head.  Call it denial, call it what you will-- but my son hasn't asked me to help him with gas money, and he is never broke.  What a concept! Drugs robs an addict of every penny they make.  Now that B isn't using, he is becoming financially independent.  He is proud of the fact that he buys his own haircuts, etc.

I also know that suboxone isn't a forever kind of thing. The doctor wants to wean him down.  But, I cannot try to forecast any kind of "what if"?   I cannot predict the future.  I can only continue to pray for my son, and so many of you who have shared your story.

I'll try to grab B for another interview-- if our hours can coincide to do so.

Many of you want to know more about suboxone.  I have a link to Suboxone Talk Zone on the sidebar of my blog.  I find that Dr. Junig has helpful information to make an informed decision.

My pain goes to those of you who do NOT have insurance, nor the financial means, to help your loved get the rehab help that they need.  It is disgusting what rehabs charge.  My son's 30-day stint cost over $36,000.00.  That was four years ago. The ONLY reason we could do this is because we had insurance that covered 90% of the cost. The rest came out of my son's inheritance from his grandmother.

Suboxone is expensive.  I think it's about $400.00 a month, without insurance. Maybe more. Again, thanks to President Obama, my son has medical insurance through my husband.  For that reason, his suboxone is "free"; that doesn't include the monthly premiums.

I hope to find more time to blog more often.  It's so hard, because of my busy schedule.  My son reads this blog, and reads the comments.  I read them, too, and save them.

Thank you to those of you who send emails to me.   I only wish I could hug each of you, and comfort you. I do feel your pain. I've been there, and know that at any time-- my son could relapse.  So does B.