My story is just one of many real life stories out there today - unfathomable by some, relatable by others. My story is a sad tale of truth about the scourge of Addiction on people from all walks of life; and those who love them. I like to think of myself as a reasonable person of above average intelligence who is both open minded and accepting in general. However, when I came to learn that my son was a heroin addict; there was nothing reasonable, open minded, or acceptable about that information as far as my “above average intelligence” could see!
Today I understand that my story is not unique, I am one of many, I am not alone and my story is NOT special. I know so many other mothers’ that suffer this same burden. Then there are the children, the lovers, the friends; the spouses and siblings and the addicts themselves. Also I can’t help but think about the recovery workers who pour their whole lives and souls into trying to help our loved ones. So many recovery workers have their own story to tell of how they were drawn to their calling. Just like that…I feel very small and insignificant because I am just another mother whose child is an addict.
My son has been fighting his battle with addiction for over 10 years now. I have certainly had my highs and lows during that time. But it’s not just me who suffers, my son has many other people who love him and care about him. Probably first and foremost are his children, when they were younger we explained his absences by telling them that Daddy was sick, but once they got older that story produced more questions, and we felt that they deserved to know more. Daddy was indeed sick, but it was a special disease that had no cure, and that Daddy may not ever get better. It was the truth but hard to say, and even harder for them to hear. I am not sure they fully understand, but then again sometimes I don’t understand all aspects of this disease either.
Discovering that my son is an addict was at first a difficult and very scary place to be no matter how many may have gone before me. I immediately became this mama bear trying to protect my cub, growling and showing my teeth, standing up ready to fight. Then, I became a psychoanalysis explaining to myself and anyone who would listen to me- how this happened and how to fix it and make it simply go away. It wasn’t long after that I became very sick. I was depressed without hope; nothing and nobody could help me as I fell deeper and deeper into the abyss of my own self pity. I was broken on the inside and nothing was working out like I thought. I was lower than I think I have ever been in my entire life. I had struggled with depression before, but that was about my choices, my life, my situation; this was about my baby boy! No matter what I did, I could not fix him or help him. It even seemed that when I tried to help he got worse. I was cursed! I wanted to die! WHY?-I asked. Nothing made sense! His words, my actions, the promises, our tears; none of it made sense.We fear what we don’t understand and sometimes fear can cause us to lash out, like the mama bear.
Whatever is not considered normal or acceptable in society is ignored or ostracized, ridiculed, and bullied. Even very young children will participate in this type of behavior. Compassion only seems to come just after we need it! I have always loved my son dearly, but I had very little compassion for my son’s disease at first because I thought that his addiction was more of a hobby than a disease of the brain. My conclusions were based upon what I had been told, what I had seen, and what little I had read. I felt like my son had just got mixed up with the wrong people. I thought that he was just messing around trying out drugs and alcohol for fun, being young and dumb. I thought I already knew all about it. And let’s face it if you are not directly affected by addiction, why would you even care to look deeper or get a second opinion? But after 10 years of watching him make strides and improve, just to fall back down again time after time, well this was not just fun and messing around! There was more to this, and I needed a second opinion because I realized I didn’t know anything anymore.
There is such disgrace associated with addiction in society. The addict is the villain, the rogue, a contemptible person that deserves no compassion. Why can’t there be compassion for these people who suffer from this horrid disease? Addiction has been substantiated by the medical community as a disease, but society just can’t get past the stigma, the stereotypical mindset.
Addiction is not pleasant or easy to understand, it is ugly and rude, it lies and is completely selfish, it is relentless and a killer. Addiction can take the sweetest person or child and turn them into a shadow of the person you once knew. Addiction is random in who it effects, all races, creeds, genders, neither the rich nor poor are immune. Addiction is heartless, difficult to control, and never ending once it begins. Addiction is a lot of things, but one thing it is not; is hopeless. Addiction can be controlled, and those who suffer from it can find their way to remission and recovery and lead happy and fulfilling lives. The remission and recovery began today for thousands, and it continues on today for thousands more. If they can do it, then anyone can do it as long as they believe in themselves and reach out for help.
I continue on with the hope that my son one day very soon will reach out for help and begin again down the road of recovery. As my story continues, day by day I hold on to that hope just like so many others.
Just a few random thoughts I have had this week! Thanks for reading!
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