A Mother's Compassion

I'm home, nursing a winter cold.  In a rare moment, I have the quiet of the house to sit down and write...and pray...and to ground myself.  I ended my last post so abruptly, because my son walked into the room.  In the last few months, I have learned to turn off my laptop when my husband or son is in the mood to have "dialogue" with me. It's so easy to become immersed into being on the web, where I visit my cooking sites and chat on Facebook with friends.   I had every intention of picking up where I signed off, but I didn't.  So, here I am.

I do continue to read some of the addiction blogs that I subscribe to.  I don't mean to ignore the plight of the person's writings by not leaving a comment. It's just that I used to do that a lot.  What did I do a lot, you are wondering?  I used to log on and write every single thing that happened. I'd vent. I'd cry. I'd express my fears.  At the time, the many comments of encouragement (and some were critical) helped me.  I was a mom whose heart was so broken by my son's addiction.  I was giving so much of my time and energy into my son's addiction, that I wasn't paying attention to much of anything else.

Today, I continue to say that I am the mother of a drug addict.  I have to get used to it, and I need to accept that.  I've been able to move past the fear of judgment from parents who have "good kids".   I know that I was-- and still am-- a good mother.  Today, I focus on today. I'm living in the moment.  That sounds carefree and footloose, but it's healthier for me.  The turning point for me was when I realized that I had a model in my head of how I wanted my son to find sobriety.  I wanted my son to get clean. Then, I wanted him to go to college and get a good job.  As a bonus, I've been praying that a good woman would come into his life.  Sounds good, right?

Then it hit me-- these are my expectations.  B and I have had many frank talks about his drug addiction.  He's helped me to understand that, for now, he can only focus on not wanting to use.  B can't go to college, because he's not ready to focus on studying.  It would be a waste of money.  Again, my problem solving says that he needs to leave the area. He needs to get away from those who he used with, in the past. He needs to find a sponsor.  But, unless my son has that own vision for himself, I am only setting myself up for frustration that he isn't meeting my expectations.

Does that make sense?

My son turned 22 in November. He has lived with us since March. He has paid us rent, and he has a small nest egg that I've set aside for the day he moves out.  Still, he doesn't earn enough money to make it on his own. Being in the restaurant business (as a busser) is a minimum wage job.   His last two months earnings have been eager, as this is the time of year when business is really slow.  We've adjusted his rent during lean times, but that's about to end. He's been applying for jobs, though I don't think as hard as he could. Whoops, see? There I go, with my own expectations!

He is still chained to his methadone clinic.  I have come to the conclusion that my son is only buying a temporary fix from using heroin, with his use of methadone.  I'm also not impressed with the methadone clinic, as I once was.   All that counseling I was told was available....yeah, right.  The counselors come and go.  I've stopped paying for his methadone many months ago. For a while, we paid a portion of it.  Two months ago, we cut that help off. B says he'll be off by March.  I can only hope so.  In the meantime, he must drive to the clinic every single morning for his dose. If he misses one, he goes into withdrawals.

It's a sad life. 

Sadder still, what I see in my son is a lack of self-esteem.  I see him not taking care of his health, eating properly and he has no perseverance.  I've had to let go of that.  As a roommate, there aren't any problems.  He keeps the house tidy, nothing has gone missing and he is respectful to us.  I am watching my son as he begins to ask my husband questions. I am seeing in my son that he recognizes that my husband is a good person. 

What makes me very sad is that my son doesn't have any friends-- that is, friend who don't want to use with him.  Every so often, he mentions seeing someone from his past.... and that makes me uncomfortable. B knows they are not welcome in our home.  That's when I kick up my prayers that God would sever those relationships.   His friends have been in and out of rehab. 

My prayer continues that someone will come into his life who is clean and sober. Someone who can be a good role model and mentor to him.  

In the meantime, the time is drawing near when my son has to leave our nest.  When he does, I will miss his presence in our home.  I enjoy the talks that we have, though we work different schedules.  When he moves out, I think I've detached myself enough that I won't fret and worry at night.  That's the peace I've found, and I give the glory to my faith in God.  I hang on to God's promise that he will always be there for us.   When I find myself worrying, I find a quiet place to pray and to thank God for his grace and mercy on my son.

God has looked after my son, and it's a miracle that my son has been spared a criminal record or worse. 

My son's story isn't over, of course.   I have learned to have compassion for my son, yet I have become less prone to trying to fix everything for him.  How I long for my son to find peace in his life.  He must feel lonely and overwhelmed in life.  If only he'd find his way back in his own walk with God.

Breaking My Silence

With the coming of the New Year, I'm finding my way in a new direction that I have prayed God will guide me through. 2010 was a year that was certainly not devoid of many trials and tribulations.  Since this is a blog that I first started because my son finally admitted to me that he was a drug addict-- I'll start with him.

My son is still living with us.  I thank God every single day for what he has done for B.  My son has a legion of angels, I feel, who have saved his neck from some very close calls with his health.  Now that I begin typing, I realize that I could write a novella on what I mean by this. Alas, time doesn't allow for this.  I will say that my son's diabetes got out of control for him.  As the mother of a drug addict, I still see in my own son a lack of love for himself.  Many of you parents will nod in agreement when I describe how I see B lacking the perseverance to make a decision if he'll go back to school.... get a better paying job (in this terrible economy)... exercise....eat better.  With that I've found an understanding that, as an addict, he is focusing all of his energy of sobriety.  (Before anyone writes the ubiquitous comment that my son should go to meetings-- I get it.  He won't. He will, when he is ready.)

For weeks, my husband and I were concerned that he might be using again.  He'd sleep for long hours and his appetite was gone.  He looked gaunt, and yet he'd go to his job and work hard.  He's paying his rent and car insurance, and all is well.  A few weeks ago, my son left for his methadone dose and we headed to church.  A mother has an instinct when her cubs are in trouble, and I had an uneasy feeling. When we arrived home, B wasn't there. His bed was unmade, which is unusual.  For four hours, I prayed and worried and called a couple of times.

B finally called. He was in the emergency room. He had all the symptoms of a heart attack.  It turns out that was not taking the proper insulin, which he had run out of and not told us.  His blood sugars were through the roof.  He was okay, but shaken and he spent two nights in the hospital.  When he was discharged, it was like I had my son back.  He was energetic and ravenous.  He's taking better care of his diabetes and-- thanks to President Obama-- my son has health insurance again. Amen.

My absence from this blog, I believe, has been my disconnection from my son's addiction.  I have had three years to learn how to adjust and accept that my son is a drug addict.  I have whined, cried, complained, vented and prayed on this blog.  Now, I feel a transition has slowly happened for me. 

I am going to try and write more often on my blog.  The key word is "try".  However, my job has changed and my hours are ridiculously long.  I now work a split shift, and stay in "town" for three hours. I'm using that time to work out at the pool at our gym to lose weight and deal with my new diagnosis of diabetes.  In a strange way, I thank God for my diagnosis.  Because I understand the disease, I know what to do. I managed to get my son's doctor-- who is one of the best in the country-- to take my son back as his patient.  B and I laughed at both of us sitting in the waiting room.  It's weird, to be talking the same language. Yet, it's brought us closer.

I've made progress in detaching from my son's neediness.  He rarely asks me for things. Nothing has gone missing.  Is he using?  Maybe.  My son is fighting a disease where the odds are stacked against him.

The clock tells me I have to go.  I'll wind this up for now--

I thank those of you who still visit my blog and who leave comments. I'm sorry I haven't responded.  I needed to take a break from focusing so much energy on worrying about him.  It is my hope that I can use this blog to write from my heart, and for ME.  By that, I'm not looking for compassion, sympathy nor advice.  I am recommitting my life to follow my love of my Lord and Savior, Jesus.  I'm getting up earlier, to read scripture and to pray and sit quietly.  Today I broke that to blog.  I felt as though I needed to let people know I'm still here. Alive and well.

I'll try to continue my story later. B just got up.

I'm still here...

Dear Followers, Friends, Family and New Guests,

I have taken a two month hiatus from this blog. I really needed it.  Thank you for the sporadic emails I've been sent-- many of you have done so anonymously, so I couldn't answer back.  I'm gearing up to continue on sharing my story. But, not today.

I just wanted everyone to know that my son is still living with me.  He is beginning to try to detox from methadone.  I won't get into the details for now.

I will say that I am praying for him, that he can be free from methadone... free from using heroin again. He is fighting a huge battle, but he really wants to find a way to grow up and be clean and sober.

I've gone through some major job changes, too.  I've also been on vacation with my husband, and we needed it. I've also met a lovely woman, at my new job, who shares my story. She's lovely. We speak the same language. She understands. She doesn't judge me. I don't judge her. She doesn't tell me what I'm doing wrong, or what I should do. I do the same for her.

I do know this.   Being the parent of a drug addict is a long and arduous journey.  It is filled with a lot of pain.  Seeing my son showing the symptoms of withdrawal breaks my heart. In my own case-- and nobody's story is alike... similar, but never alike-- there have been hurdles that have been climbed and small victories.

My son is still living with us, and he's been no problem. He's been respectful and nothing has gone missing. He never was a thief. A manipulator, yes. Thief, no.

He has kept his job for over a year. Amen. For a drug addict, that's huge. He's also been at a second job, in the restaurant business, since May. He loves it. They love him.

He's had one hospital emergency for his diabetes.  I hope it woke him up to take care of himself.

By the Grace of God, my son and I have healed in our relationship.  He will turn 22 years old, in two weeks. I have finally learned to let go and let God. I really mean it.

That is most likely why I haven't been blogging much.  I don't feel a need to vent via this blog, any longer.  When I see my son's habitual procrastination, I have learned to just let him suffer his own consequences.  I've finally realized that my son thrives on drama. He thrives on the thrill of waiting to do something until the very last second.  Somehow, in a strange way, he seems to learn from his own consequences.

What a concept.

I have also come to better understand the difference between "co-dependence" and just being a good and loving mom.  I have finally learned that I cannot be responsible for my son's own happiness. I need to let him dig his own holes, and climb out of them on his own. 

I see promise in my son.  My son is finally maturing into a young man. Yes, he is still a drug addict. He always will be. Sometimes, the mom in me feel sad at how lonely he must feel at times. He works 7 days a week. When he's not working, he's a home. He watches TV and reads.  He can't afford to go out and do much. He pays us rent, for his car insurance and a portion of his methadone treatment.

And that brings us back to why he feels motivated to get off methadone. He can't afford it. It's a stretch for us, too. My son also realizes that he will be chained to the methadone clinic, and that limits where he can move. Move out, he will. He has been given until after the holidays. He knows that, and he agrees that it's time. We will have given him nine months to save money (we are holding it for him) towards future rentals. It won't be easy. He knows it. We know it.

But I won't stress about that. I have no control over the future. I live in the NOW. I live in faith in my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. 

I am doing okay, overall.  I have days when I feel deep sadness for my son. But I rejoice in his baby steps. Above everything else, I rejoice in the healing that has gone on between my son and me. I thank God for his Grace and Mercy. 

I continue to praise Him. My Creator, my God of Hope.

I pray that those of you who read this, will feel my own hope. Maybe I can touch someone else's heart and live them up.

Until later,

Digging Deeper

Wow! It's been almost a month since I last posted.  Life has truly gotten in the way of this blog. That, and a few other things. 

Today, our pastor gave an excellent message based on 2 Corinthians: 12.  This is where the Apostle, Paul writes:

⁷To keep me from becoming conceited because of these surpassingly great revelations, there was given me a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. ⁸Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. ⁹But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. ¹⁰That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

For those of you who don't read the bible-- perhaps even don't believe in it-- you might not understand the power in the words above.  For me, this scriptures speaks as to why I am able to cope with the difficult life that I've had.  Before I became a Christian-- 14 years ago-- I was a bitter, and angry woman.  My ongoing transformation as a follower of Jesus, has proven over and over again that God gets me through the hard times.

It is largely for this reason, that I haven't been blogging as often as I once did.  My son isn't out of the woods, by any means.  I am beginning to learn my own healing that comes with detaching from trying to micromanage my son's addiction.  For my own sanity, I assume he's chipping.  I don't see my son working any kind of program that will help him get through temptations.

On the other hand, he's about to have his one year anniversary at the golf course.  It's a job he doesn't like, because of the terrible management.  But he's still there. He's also working his second job at a restaurant. He likes it.  He makes tips-- enough to pay for gas, cigarettes, some fast food.  If he uses it for drugs, it's not my problem. 

What I am thankful for is that B and I have a very close relationship.  His living with us is my opportunity to learn how to listen to him. It is hard for me to keep my mouth shut at his procrastination.  He frustrates me, at times.  I have to remind myself that my wisdom came from years of experience. I have to remember that it is not my job to put my own expectations on him.

B's time of living here is coming close to an end.  My husband agreed to six months, max.  I see his point.
I have a compromise that I hope will spark a fire under my son to try and find a better job.  I have to pray about it, mull it over more and then approach my husband about it.  If it is agreed on, and my son doesn't blow it, he should he enough of a nest egg to try living on his own again.

My husband is right. Sober or not... B is too comfortable living with us.  He needs to have that urgency to be on his own. Whether he relapses again is something I truly understand is entirely up to him.

For me, I know I need to dig much deeper into my relationship with God.  How I wish my son would, too. The other day he said he wanted to be sober long enough before he comes back to his relationship with Jesus.

That makes me sad.  Jesus is a friend to sinners.  I wish my son could understand that the Lord wants us as we are-- sinful, selfish, broken.  He wants to clean us up and renew our lives. 


The Lord did that for me 12 years ago.  I'm no longer the woman I was then.  I'm still a work in progress, but I know where my strength comes from when the hard times hit. I love my friends and family. Ultimately, God's strength outweighs all of them combined. 

I will try and write more often.  I've received lovely private emails and comments (some anonymously).  I am so sorry I haven't written to all of you.  I so want to.  Right now, I'm working ridiculously long hours.

I will say that there are days when I still cry over my son.  I never imagined that my precious boy would be a drug addict. Never.  There are times when I wish it would all stop.  No methadone. No drugs.  I wish he was just a young man, thinking about college and not addicted to drugs and cigarettes.

I do know this. God's Grace on my son was been so good.  I believe in miracles. My son is one of them.

No matter what, I love him with all of my heart.  I also know he loves me.

If only my son could see that Satan is the destroyer and that he needs to find spiritual strength for the times when the temptation comes. I keep praying for me, for him, for you.

The viscious cycle of being the mom of a drug addict

I feel as thought I'm having deja vu of almost two years ago. That's when I started this blog.  For so long, this blog was my way of venting my frustrations, crying my tears, praising my son's days of true sobriety.  Eventually, this blog became my family.  At one time, I had high hopes that this blog would be a resource for people who were just beginning the journey that I have been on for two plus years.

Then, I fell away from coming here on a regular basis. I watched others, whom I had gotten to know, fall away from their own blogs. Some people went private on their blogs, while some went to Facebook.

Me. I'd pop in at least twice a month. 

This weekend has been a big wake up call for me.  I wonder. Did I fall away, because I had tried to fool myself that my son was doing great?

I've been reading other blogs. I'm guilty for not always leaving a comment. Sometimes, when I read a post that says that they can tell if their addict is using... I suck my breath in.

That's where I am, today.

My son can fake his sobriety, better than I ever imagined.  Today, I was asked why I don't drug test him.  I'm going to share my feelings, in the raw. Are you ready?

My son is 21 years old, now. He'll be 22 in November.  He's a clean cut, charming and very polite young man.    My son does not fit the profile of a "stero type" drug addict. 

For those of you who are new to my story-- my son was 100% clean and sober when he left his treatment center. He was in for 30 days. He went to an SLE. He got a job. He was doing great.  The problem happened when he met someone in an SLE, and they decided they could work their own program.  In essence, they thought they could be their own SLE. Big mistake, but what could I do.

My son relapsed after six months. He quit going to meetings.  He was hanging around with addicts.  Ya think?

From there, he started chipping.

I have helped my son to start on suboxone.  He chipped with it.
I have put my son into treatment center #2. He met drug addicts and began to sell drugs to pay for his own. This proves that you can put an addict into a treatment center, but you can't guarantee they won't use. For the record, I don't blame treatment centers.

I blame my son.

My son has come home twice. He lied both times.  I drug tested him more times than you know. We've kept the door open. We've made him strip down to his tighty whities.  I'll be dipped, if my son hadn't figured out how to hide urine in a place I would have never looked.
He fooled me.

My son is taking 50mg of methadone.  He goes into a clinic, every morning.  It costs $450.00 a month.  My son pays a portion, his father pays a portion, and I pick up the rest. Why?

Well, let's see-- would I rather have my son taking legal methadone so that he doesn't buy opiates on the street?

What do you think?

What are the other options?

Oh, yes. NA meetings.  Guess what?  It doesn't work for everybody.  The NA meetings where we live (very rural area), he knows most of the people.  These are people he used with. He's also been asked if he can help NA people buy drugs.

NA is good, don't get me wrong. But, it's not perfect, either.

Sober Living Environment?
I can't afford $800.00 a month, plus living expenses.  If anyone wants to sponsor it, I'll take it.

My son is uninsured.  Because he's a diabetic, and isn't going to college, we can't get insurance for him. We've tried and tried.  Those who are willing to insure my son want $800.00 a month with an astronomical deductible.


Saturday night, my son was admitted to the hospital. He is uninsured.  By a miracle only, this most excellent hospital admitted him.  My son told them he could not stay, because he had no money.  They will give him financial assistance for the stay.

Amen.

My son was so sick, because he is not managing his Type I diabetes.  He could have died. It was that bad.  By God's Grace, my son did not have cardiac arrest, nor did he go into a coma.  I have limited knowledge about his health, because I did not see his doctor. Besides my son is an adult, so I have no legal access to his medical records.

I went to get his car to bring to the hospital. I found two foils.

Crap.

He says they're old.

Uh-huh.

There is not concret, fool-proof answer to this dilemma.  I'm going to be vulnerable and share where I am at this very moment.

My son has not given me a reason that would make me strong enough to throw him out of the house.  It would be easier for me if he was a jerk...if he'd been in and out of jail... if I found things missing... if money disappeared from my purse.  My son has been nothing but courteous in the house. He works two jobs and pays us rent. He's paying for his car insurance and a portion of his methadone.

So, here I sit.  I have much to contemplate.

I do know this. My son needs professsional help.  He is trying to work his own program. It's not working.  I believe my son is finding a way to chip in between taking methadone.

I believe my son will be on methadone for the rest of his life-- unless he, himself, alone wants sobriety enough to find the tools he can use to say "no" to use.

My son, I believe, is suffering from depression. I believe he has a spiritual void in his life.  There is a deep-rooted pain in his life, and he relies on drugs to fix it.

That is not working.

I feel sorrow for my son. I am afraid that my son will die from his diabetes, unless he begins to take care of it.

When people say that they can't change, I think that's BS.  People can change.  It takes work.

I do not know how it is to be addicted to opiates.  I know that my son has a 97% chance of fail. These are not good odds.

I can only be a prayer warrior for my son.  I can't yell at my son. 

I had a conversation with my son, when he returned home from the hospital.

When I am ready, I will share it.

My son has never read my blog.  The reason I haven't asked him to, is that he is not ready.

My son is still in denial about his recovery.  He says he's coming a long way. OK, I'll give him that. He's not strung out.  But, I think he's chipping.  If you use "once" you're not sober.

Period.

That's all I can share, tonight.

One last thing--  I don't write for advice.  I write to share my honest feelings.  I hope that my story will touch others.  I know I am not alone. 

God is with me. 

That's plenty for me.

My name is Debby. My son is a drug addict. I love him so much.  I want my son to live and to be happy.

In Jesus Name,