Saturday, April 25, 2009

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

In between

This photograph is one I took last summer. It's probably my favorite of C as an adult.

Soon after this photograph was taken, C flew back to California, and during his flight, he decided that he was old enough to have a drink. . . after eight months of sobriety.

So, here we are. This is the image of C sober THEN. The next one I hope to take soon.

Monday, April 20, 2009


I've been reluctant to post again. It's so easy to be misunderstood when words stand alone. When the reader doesn't understand the places a writer has been to before. When he can't see my eyes, or C as a three-year-old, or the family Christmas play . When he doesn't understand that my hopelessness is fleeting. Or, at least understand that it will be.

I debated starting this blog for a full year before I did. I spoke with friends about it. I posted about the subject a few times on another blog of mine. And then, on a night when I was feeling somewhat less than hopeful . . . tearful and terrified . . . this blog was born.

The comments and e-mails I've received during the past week have touched me. I'm buoyed by the support, and saddened that my plight is shared by so many. I appreciate the suggestions, but I know the road well. I've been to Al-Anon meetings and Nar-Anon meetings and have joined online support groups. I know I didn't cause C's addiction, I can't control it, nor can I cure it. . . most of the time. Loving an addict means that rationality is not always at the top of your emotional pile.

I've heard from readers I don't know, from family, from in-laws and from friends. Their responses made me question who I was writing to. After several days of reflection, I've decided that I can best tell my story without distraction. Therefore, I am disabling comments on this blog.

I am writing for myself, to document the events going forward from this moment, as well as to reflect on events that have passed. I am also writing to share my experience with others who might also be living this nightmare. I may post information that folks find helpful, so please feel free to read on if you wish. If you feel strongly about contacting me, you can find my e-mail address in my profile.

Know though, that my pain coexists with happiness . . .  found in C, my other children, my grandchildren, and my life.

Wishing you all the same.

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Pure Joy and Loyalty

It's difficult to have a bad day when you've spent it with these virtues.
Thursdays are always spent with my grandson. Atticus, is with me every day, but he shines when his favorite kid is around.

I spoke with C last night. Apparently, he is planning to come back to this area in May. Of course, there is a lot of 'green' between now and next month. So, we'll see.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

How the heck did we get here?

I'm sure that every parent of an addicted child asks themselves this question at some point.

How did we go from innocence and sandcastles and flying kites on the beach, into the darkness and the broken dreams and the place where nothing but heroin matters. It's a rhetorical question. As Lou says, "It is what it is." At some point, the rabbit hole appeared in front of him and he dove head-first into it. We've spent many years reaching in to pull him out, even though I know he's got to climb out of it himself.

Within each of us are the elements of happiness and despair. Today, I choose to be happy: my one-year-old grandson can say, "Memaw."

Monday, April 13, 2009

I hope he's wrong . . .

We are exactly where we were ten years ago when I started documenting my son's drug use. 

At that time, I was also documenting the crazy things that accompanied my divorce from his father. And, while the events associated with our divorce have faded into practically nothing, C's addiction continues to demand attention.

This is my first post to this blog. Right now, I hope that I post often and for a long time. Because, you see, my youngest son (25) has relapsed for the countless time, and his father and I have taken "that stance." We've announced that we will no longer support him or his lifestyle.

The disconnect is electric within me. I'm searching inside myself for how he is and the ways in which I've failed him. I'm one inch from tears often.

A friend of mine told me tonight that her father says, "the only cure for drug addiction is death."

I hope he's wrong.