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.