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.