Tears. They stream out of me. I cannot stop the flow.
I close my eyes and feel the ache
My baby boy, my man-son. He has his own ache. The ache for a daddy.
A hero, an idol, a big strong man to throw him in the air and safely catch him
A good man to show him how a good man lives
An honorable man to teach him, love his mom, and train him
Instead: a fantasy daddy. One he could only create in his mind because his real daddy was nowhere except a voice on a random phone call. No weekend visitations. No birthday celebrations. No Christmas holidays. No weekends of fun. No.
Because a “man” cannot be a daddy when he is in prison.
He cannot be a hero when he is a drug dealer and an addict
He cannot be an honorable man when he assaults men and women who make him angry
This man cannot be a daddy.
But young boys hope, dream, and believe in daddy’s even when they are MIA
In their minds, daddy is ready to welcome his boy home and show him a good time
Young boys are confused when mommy doesn’t let them see daddy. Why?
How can mommy ever answer in a language that little boys understand?
They can’t
They try. They try hard. They try to make up for a missing daddy.
But time eventually shows that mommies cannot be daddies.
My little guy, my man-son, went in search of his daddy. How I wish he never found him.
I don’t know if I will ever know of all the realities that shattered my baby’s dream-daddy
I just now guns were involved
Domestic violence
Drugs, using and selling
And a little boy, my little guy, led astray until he became lost.
And addicted.
So lost.
So off to rehab you go.
To learn that you have lost your way. That this life you are living is a lie
And to admit you are powerless
Daddy was not the one to follow. And now you have much work to do
To find yourself
To forgive yourself
To remake yourself
God will help you, but can you trust him? Can you trust a heavenly daddy when you only have scars to show from trusting an earthly one?
My baby, this daddy is different. Please believe me.
And when you find your way
Please come home, my little guy.
I will always be here
God, how I love you. I never knew how much I could love.
So much.
My arms stretched wide “this much”
Do you remember?
Monday, June 14, 2010
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Relationships in Recovery
(I decided to remove the letter to Daniel I had initially included in this post. I decided that I wanted to keep its contents just among our family.)
I want to acknowledge that I have an incredible, incredible, husband. When we married, neither of us knew of Daniel's addiction. And yet, he has come alongside me and walked with me. I am not dragging him to family weekends, Al-Anon, or counseling appointments. He earnestly desires to support me, and learn how to help Daniel. His committmend to both of us was demonstrated once again on this "Family weekend" as he also wrote a letter to Daniel. It was heartfelt. It was brutally honest. It challenged Daniel, communicated committment, and hope. I love you, Michael. You are a priceless gift to me and to Daniel. You are amazing. You are the best husband I could hope for.
Many tears were shed today. I believe they were healing tears and hopefully the beginning of relationships in recovery.
I want to acknowledge that I have an incredible, incredible, husband. When we married, neither of us knew of Daniel's addiction. And yet, he has come alongside me and walked with me. I am not dragging him to family weekends, Al-Anon, or counseling appointments. He earnestly desires to support me, and learn how to help Daniel. His committmend to both of us was demonstrated once again on this "Family weekend" as he also wrote a letter to Daniel. It was heartfelt. It was brutally honest. It challenged Daniel, communicated committment, and hope. I love you, Michael. You are a priceless gift to me and to Daniel. You are amazing. You are the best husband I could hope for.
Many tears were shed today. I believe they were healing tears and hopefully the beginning of relationships in recovery.
Not Sure I'm Ready for This
This is Day 2 of our second "Family Weekend" at my son's rehab. It is going to be an emotional one, as we will exchange letters (read aloud to one another) in front of a group; focus is on how his addiction has affected our relationship, what I want him to do, dont want him to do, and what I will do to support his recovery. Just writing it I cried. I don't know how I will ever get thru reading it aloud. But I'm sure I will. I'm glad to do it actually because it allows me to say some important things.
Yesterday (day 1) went well. After hearing from other families and how their son/daughter cannot wait to get out of rehab and are pressuring everyone to let them out early - Michael and I were so grateful that Daniel is a strong contrast. While he will readily admit to not wanting to be there, he is fully ready to move onto the next extended-stay program and do whatever it takes. His 'preview' of the new program was rigorous and intense (as it is designed to be),. His evaluation was "They said everything I said is bullshit....they were right. This will be so hard. I know it will be good".
We are so thankful for his willingness at this critical stage. For the first time, we think we may be seeing the fruit of leaving him so long in Virginia (2 years) to face his own consequences of his decisions and to demonstrate to us that he is serious about working a recovery program (he worked with a counselor and reduced his methadone dose from 125 to 25 mg/day), attended meetings, etc.. It was far from a perfect demonstration, but with the help of some insightful counselors, we could see he demonstrated a genuine desire to recover.
Time is short, gotta go. Thanks for reading.
Yesterday (day 1) went well. After hearing from other families and how their son/daughter cannot wait to get out of rehab and are pressuring everyone to let them out early - Michael and I were so grateful that Daniel is a strong contrast. While he will readily admit to not wanting to be there, he is fully ready to move onto the next extended-stay program and do whatever it takes. His 'preview' of the new program was rigorous and intense (as it is designed to be),. His evaluation was "They said everything I said is bullshit....they were right. This will be so hard. I know it will be good".
We are so thankful for his willingness at this critical stage. For the first time, we think we may be seeing the fruit of leaving him so long in Virginia (2 years) to face his own consequences of his decisions and to demonstrate to us that he is serious about working a recovery program (he worked with a counselor and reduced his methadone dose from 125 to 25 mg/day), attended meetings, etc.. It was far from a perfect demonstration, but with the help of some insightful counselors, we could see he demonstrated a genuine desire to recover.
Time is short, gotta go. Thanks for reading.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
A Good Sign. I Think.
Daniel called me tonight.
He told me about his "evaluation" with the counselors (not knowing I had already talked with them)
He said it was grueling, much more difficult than he expected.
He went on to tell me they analyzed every word he said and told him it was all *BS*. Surprisingly, he commented, "They were right". He described himself as pretty shaken up when he left but relfected "This is going to be good".
I think this is a good sign. I hope I am right.
Today, he is willing.
God, help us both.
He told me about his "evaluation" with the counselors (not knowing I had already talked with them)
He said it was grueling, much more difficult than he expected.
He went on to tell me they analyzed every word he said and told him it was all *BS*. Surprisingly, he commented, "They were right". He described himself as pretty shaken up when he left but relfected "This is going to be good".
I think this is a good sign. I hope I am right.
Today, he is willing.
God, help us both.
I Asked
My head is spinning.
I am at work and just got off the phone with a counselor at the rehab clinic.
My son completed a behavioral assessment to determine if he's ready for an intensive long-term treatment program. I asked for an update after the assessment.
I asked.
Maybe I shouldn't have.
Nothing all too surprising, I suppose, but it still felt like a slap in the face after the conversation sunk in.
He seems to be an expert con artist, manipulator, with multiple modes of denial in full-force operation. A camelion that changes his colors depending upon who he's with. A young man that judges himself by his intentions and his own thoughts rather than his behavior. A young man with anger and rage.
I got a long list of examples but I cannot seem to remember any of them.
Hmm, my own denial must be alive and well.
Where did he learn this?
My son is broken. BROKEN. In spite of a good home. In spite of a loving mom, doing well in school, well in sports, lots of friends. In spite of all the @$%#$)*#)@$ effort I put into doing the very best I could.
How does this happen? I still don't get it. I cannot find the rationale, the reason, the explanation for how a happy, healthy boy turns into a man that cannot be trusted. My mind cannot wrap around it.
Oh God, please help me walk through this.
Help me do my job, it is so hard to focus.
Please fix him.
Back to work...
I am at work and just got off the phone with a counselor at the rehab clinic.
My son completed a behavioral assessment to determine if he's ready for an intensive long-term treatment program. I asked for an update after the assessment.
I asked.
Maybe I shouldn't have.
Nothing all too surprising, I suppose, but it still felt like a slap in the face after the conversation sunk in.
He seems to be an expert con artist, manipulator, with multiple modes of denial in full-force operation. A camelion that changes his colors depending upon who he's with. A young man that judges himself by his intentions and his own thoughts rather than his behavior. A young man with anger and rage.
I got a long list of examples but I cannot seem to remember any of them.
Hmm, my own denial must be alive and well.
Where did he learn this?
My son is broken. BROKEN. In spite of a good home. In spite of a loving mom, doing well in school, well in sports, lots of friends. In spite of all the @$%#$)*#)@$ effort I put into doing the very best I could.
How does this happen? I still don't get it. I cannot find the rationale, the reason, the explanation for how a happy, healthy boy turns into a man that cannot be trusted. My mind cannot wrap around it.
Oh God, please help me walk through this.
Help me do my job, it is so hard to focus.
Please fix him.
Back to work...
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
I Talked About You
Step 6: Defects. This was the topic of the Al-Anon meeting (for parents) I attended last night. It goes something like Were entirely ready to have God remove all my defects of character.
I listened for a long time, hearing others speak of their stumbling blocks, shortcomings, assets-taken-to-an-extreme and how they grapple with them, face them, and repeatedly attempt to overcome or replace them. All the while I am thinking "this is good information, just what my son needs to hear..." but in the back of my mind I know: this insight is for my son's mother.
I looked for an opening; and near the end of the meeting I tentatively stepped up to meet the momentary silence:
"My name is Carolyn"
(hi Carolyn)
"My defect stands 6 foot 1 inches tall. He is 24 years old. He is handsome and charming and I love him with all that is in me" (unplanned cracking in my voice works its way inbetween my words)...
"I have turned him over to a higher power: he is in Rehab" (tears now leak into the scene).
I go on to explain how thankful I am that I am not chronically depressed, but have many good days, even feel happy and energetic at times. But then there are other days when my emotions drop so low, I "fall off the charts".
But I want to share something; I have made a breakthrough. I continued...
It was on one such day (when my son returned home from 2-years living in another state and we discovered that he was in a much worse state that we expected). I went online desperate for some help or encouragement.
I googled "mothers of addicts" and I found an incredible community: YOU. Within moments and within days I would find other moms that understand my pain. I didn't have to pretend "everything's fine" like I do in the rest of my life; wondering in whom can I confide? In this community of grieving mamas, the understanding, the encouragement, the wisdom, was tangible. I could be anonymous and yet connect on a deeper level more than I could with my closest friends. I called it "magic".
There is a similar magic in Al-Anon. I am discovering that nuggets of truth and wisdom can be found there. In a parent-focused meeting, it is especially rich.
So to you, my new online comrades,
....to all the mothers who take time to pour your heart out though a keyboard
....to the fathers who register their experiences and insights
Thank you. You have made a significant difference in this mama's journey through the wilderness.
-Carolyn (CC is a nickname)
I listened for a long time, hearing others speak of their stumbling blocks, shortcomings, assets-taken-to-an-extreme and how they grapple with them, face them, and repeatedly attempt to overcome or replace them. All the while I am thinking "this is good information, just what my son needs to hear..." but in the back of my mind I know: this insight is for my son's mother.
I looked for an opening; and near the end of the meeting I tentatively stepped up to meet the momentary silence:
"My name is Carolyn"
(hi Carolyn)
"My defect stands 6 foot 1 inches tall. He is 24 years old. He is handsome and charming and I love him with all that is in me" (unplanned cracking in my voice works its way inbetween my words)...
"I have turned him over to a higher power: he is in Rehab" (tears now leak into the scene).
I go on to explain how thankful I am that I am not chronically depressed, but have many good days, even feel happy and energetic at times. But then there are other days when my emotions drop so low, I "fall off the charts".
But I want to share something; I have made a breakthrough. I continued...
It was on one such day (when my son returned home from 2-years living in another state and we discovered that he was in a much worse state that we expected). I went online desperate for some help or encouragement.
I googled "mothers of addicts" and I found an incredible community: YOU. Within moments and within days I would find other moms that understand my pain. I didn't have to pretend "everything's fine" like I do in the rest of my life; wondering in whom can I confide? In this community of grieving mamas, the understanding, the encouragement, the wisdom, was tangible. I could be anonymous and yet connect on a deeper level more than I could with my closest friends. I called it "magic".
There is a similar magic in Al-Anon. I am discovering that nuggets of truth and wisdom can be found there. In a parent-focused meeting, it is especially rich.
So to you, my new online comrades,
....to all the mothers who take time to pour your heart out though a keyboard
....to the fathers who register their experiences and insights
Thank you. You have made a significant difference in this mama's journey through the wilderness.
-Carolyn (CC is a nickname)
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Visiting Day
The doors swing open today for family and friends of patients at my son's rehab center. Why is it that I don't want to go? Is it because my parents are visiting and that helps me feel off the hook? Is it because the drive is 2-hours one way?
Part of me wants to see him. And part of me is still angry. And part of me fears getting too hopeful. And then there is the sad thruth that I just don't enjoy his company right now.
Am I withholding support by not going? Am I sending him a negative message? Will he think I don't care? I really don't know. What I do know is that I don't feel like going. And I am glad that when I saw him last, he told me I don't have to come (since Grams and Gramps were coming).
Still, I feel sorta bad for not going. I feel bad that I don't want to go. I feel bad that I longed for two years for my son to move back to his home state/town and now that he has, I'm so shocked and grieved to see his life up close.
Intuitively, I think I'm on course for this "new normal". I think other moms will understand.
I hope one day it will be different. In the meantime, part of me looks forward to next weekend when I see him during the second Family Weekend. Strange - all these conflicting feelings. I'm not even trying to sort them all out anymore.
Part of me wants to see him. And part of me is still angry. And part of me fears getting too hopeful. And then there is the sad thruth that I just don't enjoy his company right now.
Am I withholding support by not going? Am I sending him a negative message? Will he think I don't care? I really don't know. What I do know is that I don't feel like going. And I am glad that when I saw him last, he told me I don't have to come (since Grams and Gramps were coming).
Still, I feel sorta bad for not going. I feel bad that I don't want to go. I feel bad that I longed for two years for my son to move back to his home state/town and now that he has, I'm so shocked and grieved to see his life up close.
Intuitively, I think I'm on course for this "new normal". I think other moms will understand.
I hope one day it will be different. In the meantime, part of me looks forward to next weekend when I see him during the second Family Weekend. Strange - all these conflicting feelings. I'm not even trying to sort them all out anymore.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Learning to Live
After 1.5 weeks in rehab, Daniel is doing as expected. Maybe better.
A couple days ago he called from the clinic and declaired "I think I know what my problem is", to which I replied "Really?"
He went on to say that he realizes that he thought he could control his use of drugs (as he did in the beginning) but now he knows he cannot. And he realizes that while he has made other attempts to get sober, he has never worked a 12-step program. I asked "Are you ready now?", to which he replied, "Yes - my way doesn't work."
I hope he means it. I think, for today, he does. So I am cautiously encouraged. But I am learning that his words are not always trustworthy - not that I don't believe he is sincere - but that beating this addiction is going to take more than words. But I am happy that he is starting to recognize his powerlessness and considers the 12-step progam the path he needs to take. This is progress.
Meanwhile, Michael and I are learning to live our lives. Tomorrow we are going cycling on our new road bikes. In preparation for an upcoming 60-mile ride, we're going to cycle around Hagg Lake; a mere 10-miles, but some good rolling hills on which we will test our legs (and endurance). Forecast is low-70s so it should be a fun and beautiful day. I'm finding more and more that physical exertion is highly theraputic for this mom who is otherwise, still too preoccupied with her beautiful boy.
A couple days ago he called from the clinic and declaired "I think I know what my problem is", to which I replied "Really?"
He went on to say that he realizes that he thought he could control his use of drugs (as he did in the beginning) but now he knows he cannot. And he realizes that while he has made other attempts to get sober, he has never worked a 12-step program. I asked "Are you ready now?", to which he replied, "Yes - my way doesn't work."
I hope he means it. I think, for today, he does. So I am cautiously encouraged. But I am learning that his words are not always trustworthy - not that I don't believe he is sincere - but that beating this addiction is going to take more than words. But I am happy that he is starting to recognize his powerlessness and considers the 12-step progam the path he needs to take. This is progress.
Meanwhile, Michael and I are learning to live our lives. Tomorrow we are going cycling on our new road bikes. In preparation for an upcoming 60-mile ride, we're going to cycle around Hagg Lake; a mere 10-miles, but some good rolling hills on which we will test our legs (and endurance). Forecast is low-70s so it should be a fun and beautiful day. I'm finding more and more that physical exertion is highly theraputic for this mom who is otherwise, still too preoccupied with her beautiful boy.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
A Song for my Friends
I found this song by Josh Wilson a few weeks ago and I cannot stop playing it. Even the album title, "Life is not a snapshot" is something we would do well to ponder awhile.
I hope it will be an encouragement, especially to my Jesus-loving friends.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mfWAG-bnttQ
I hope it will be an encouragement, especially to my Jesus-loving friends.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mfWAG-bnttQ
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
A Good Read: Twilight
Loved the "Twilight" post by There is No Hero in Heroin" and would encourage others to read it too.
http://thereisnoheroinheroin.blogspot.com/2010/06/twilight.html
http://thereisnoheroinheroin.blogspot.com/2010/06/twilight.html
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