The Day I Knew

I will write the memories of these last 7 years as they come to me.  Today I feel I should share this.  I always pray that I will share something that will help someone.  I had an idea to write something completely different today.  Then I decided to tell this story.

My son started his drug addiction at age 14.  He had always been a “handful” kinda like raising a bull calf.  He is bright, handsome, funny, charismatic, super smart, athletic.  Not just because I’m his mother…he really is all those things.  However, he is also, short tempered, very impulsive, quick to get into physical confrontation, and struggles with empathy for others.  He has always been an adrenaline junkie.  He loves mountain biking, motor cross, snowboarding, wrestling, MMA fighting.  He fears nothing.  I have long admired him for that.  I feel I go through life afraid of a lot.  He has the spirit of a warrior.  I think he was born in the wrong time really.  I think he would have loved running through the woods in a loin cloth with a spear in his hand.  I told him once that being his mother was a lot like being on a roller coaster ride.  Most of the time you just gotta close your eyes and hold on!

There is also something so noble about him.  It isn’t apparent to everyone.  But, those that really know him, see it.  He feels deeply, deeper than most.  Maybe, because of that, he struggles hard to cope with those feelings.

He was approached by a friend when he was in 8^th grade.  The kid offered him marijuana.  He said no several times but, the friend persisted.  So, he tried…and he was hooked.  You can never, ever, convince me that marijuana is not addictive.  It makes my blood boil just typing those words.  He was smoking weed for about a year before I knew.  He was good at hiding it.  Also, I wasn’t imagining that it could happen, so I wasn’t watching for it. He had been through all the school programs.  The “Say No To Drugs” program.  Since my Mother was an alcoholic, (that could be another blog all by itself) I had always talked to my kids about drugs and alcohol.  I tried my best to put the fear of it in their hearts since they were little.

It is a long story and I will tell little by little in this blog.  He has told me lots of things I want to write about.  But, today, I will tell the story of when I knew he would die soon if something didn’t happen.

It had been a terrible winter.  He had been in and out of the house for months.  One day I noticed a red mark on the inside of his arm.  I thin red line right over his vein.  I had been trying to get him to go to rehab for a year.  I knew he was using heroin.  I thought only smoking it.  I asked him about it and he quickly made up some story.  The next day I saw the same mark on the back of his knee.  I was panic stricken.  That night I prayed to know what to do.  I had a feeling that I should go down to his room and look under his mattress.  You see, I still didn’t want to believe it.  I went to look under his mattress and found a needle.  I picked it up and slowly walked into my husband’s office.  He looked up at me, our eyes met, and we both began to cry.  We knew he wouldn’t be here long if something didn’t happen. 

He came home that night.  I told him he would have to leave.  I told him that he was going to die if he didn’t get help.  He left that night.

Two days later he came back to get some things.  He had short sleeves on.  I saw the track marks all over the inside of his arms.  He was totally wasted.   He didn’t even try to hide it.  As he went to leave, I felt that I would never see him again...alive.  The emotion was uncontrollable.  I ran after him and spun him around.  I grabbed his arms and stroked the inside of his arms with my hand.  Then, I did what I had never done before.  I begged.  I cried and I begged him to get help.  As the tears streamed down my face I begged him.  I said “Please, let’s get help Mitch…”  I didn’t yell, I just kept saying it over and over again.  At first he tried to break free from me.  Then we made eye contact.  Even though he was high….I saw into his heart for that moment.  He saw me, I think for the first time in a long time.  His eyes filled with tears.  Everything faded away for a few seconds.  I was pleading for his life…and he knew it.  I saw how scared he was.  He knew he was in serious trouble.

He left that night.  Two days later, he knocked at the door.  There he stood, so thin, clothes hanging off him, with a baseball hat on.   He started to cry…and said…I’m ready to go to rehab.

That is not the end of the story.  But, that was a good day.

Isolation

Living with someone suffering with addiction is a very isolating experience.  I recently heard a friend say that a lady she knew had a son with a heroin addiction.  She talked about how this woman didn’t like to go to church or social events.  I instantly knew exactly how she felt. 

Life with an addict is an experience unlike anything else I’ve ever experienced.  It is a reality all its own.  Those who haven’t lived it don’t understand it.  People with addiction to drugs are so unpredictable.  One minute things are ok, and the next, all hell is breaking loose.  Things turn on a dime.  Because of that you are constantly nervous and off balance. You find yourself either recovering from something or preparing for the next.  There is never calm.  If things are calm, you know the storm is coming.  After living like this for a while many people experience symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder.  It’s common to suffer with depression, anxiety and panic attacks. 

So, going out and doing anything social is not fun.  You find yourself not able to relate to people as they talk of things that have no importance to you anymore.  You feel like everybody knows, but then really, they don’t have any idea.  They don’t know the tsunami of a life you are living.  As they talk of how disappointed they are in their son’s grades.  You are remembering last night.  When your son came to the door asking to come in, it was snowing, he was high.  He cried and begged to come in and said he had nowhere to go. You couldn’t let him in because you knew he would use in the house. He refused to go to rehab.  So, you had to turn and walk away from the door.  You felt like your heart was literally breaking. It had been the single hardest thing you had ever done.    While they talk of summer vacation, you wonder if your son will live through the summer. 

You are in the fight of your life.  You are in a life and death struggle.  All the while trying to keep your sanity and care for your other kids and husband.  Every day you see this boy who you love more than life itself, slowly killing himself, and there is nothing you can do.  However, even knowing you can’t stop it, you are driven to desperately try anything and everything to help him. It consumes your every thought. Imagine being tied to a tree while you watch a train coming.  Imagine your son on the tracks.  He doesn’t hear the train or see it coming.  You see in horror what is going to happen.  You try to yell, no sound comes out.  You struggle to run toward him.  You can’t move.  All you can do is watch….and pray.    

So, if you know someone living with an addict.  Be patient, be gentle, don’t judge, just love them.

This morning I'm feeling vulnerable.  Writing this blog for me is like standing naked on a street corner.  Now if this were 20 years ago, that may not have been as terrifying experience as it would be today. Nonetheless, not a comfortable thing at any age.  I decided to write about this not as an expert, but as a Mother.  I speak from the heart, not from a formal education in psychology or as a therapist.  My punctuation will probably not be right.  I may forget to spell check.  I am not looking for sympathy or validation. I don't profess to know everything about addiction or anything else.  My goal in writing about this is to first, attempt to heal myself and secondly hope that I might help or comfort others. I take comfort in the fact that most likely not many people will read this.  Probably mostly my family:)  But, if just one person is lifted or helped by this blog it will be worth it to me.  Thanks to those who have commented and messaged me.  Your comments give me courage to keep writing.

Downfall

I went to the jail today.  I’ve gone there two times a week for the last 6 months.  I have only been able to see my boy through a video monitor.  I haven’t touched him or been close to him for almost 7 months.  I took his sisters today.  He always lights up and smiles so big when they come to talk with him.  Today, as I watched him laughing and smiling so brightly, just for a moment I saw his little boy face again.  Just for a moment, the vision of my darling little boy of several years ago came back.  The joy of it was quickly replaced by the pain of regret.  What could I have done differently?  I wished I could go back and do it again.  Try again.  If I had the chance to go back and know how bad it would get, surely I would do better.  If in the deepest recesses of my mind I would have had any idea that this was a possibility, I know somehow I would have done better.  I choked back the tears. I was jolted out of my thoughts by Cristal’s laughter.  She is laughing at a story Mitch is telling her.  I noticed how much they look alike.  He is so animated as he tells her something that they both find hilarious.  The chairs are uncomfortable even for the visitors of those in jail.  This is not a place that invites anyone to stay any longer than necessary.  I am grateful to be here in the daylight as the sun makes it more bearable.  I hate going at night.  Visits are hard at night.  As the screen goes dark at the end of the visit, the walk out to the car is longer.  It’s so hard to leave your son there.  It’s especially hard at night. My instinct is to take him home…but that’s not possible. Not for now at least. As I walked away from the visit I feel gratitude.  I know in my heart that these walls are keeping my boy alive, sheltering him from the demon that waits for him.  The demon that will kill him, if he doesn’t find the strength to overcome the hold it has on him. 

I’ve seen the evil of heroin.  It’s black and destroys everything in its path.  It hurts and holds hostage everyone that it touches, even those that have never touched it.  I’ve seen how it rages within the body, sucking the life out of its victims.  It changes the body and takes the will and spirit of the person it resides in. I know how it screams and rages as the addict tries to free themselves of it. It does not go easily.  Most of the time it wins and does not go for long, eventually taking the life of those that loose the battle. For now my boy is safe. For now, his future is unsure, but safe from darkness of addiction.

The video below is a song Cristal wrote about her brother.  The "she" in it is heroin.

I have wanted to start this blog for a while.  I’ve thought that maybe what we have gone through may help others.  Until now I haven’t been able to find the strength to share this very painful and private story.  The story of addiction isn’t easy to share.  Only those who have lived with it know the horror of it.  This blog is not for the addict, but for those that love them and suffer with them.  The focus is usually on the addict.  Here I want to help others understand how addiction affects the families of those that suffer.  I use to think that kids that got addicted to drugs were from hard family situations.  I thought maybe from homes where no one was paying attention.  Surely they didn’t have good parents that loved them and did all they could to raise them right.  I was wrong. 

My son’s addiction has taken me to places that I never thought I’d be.  It has caused me to feel a pain so deep, that at times I can hardly breathe.  It has kept me up all night many nights. The desperation of it is crippling. Sometimes I just have to focus on getting through the hour. However, it has also brought me insight, compassion, understanding and strength. But most of all it has taught me the power of love like I never knew before.