I just want to thank everyone who has been showing up to give support as I blog this experience! I apologize that I have not done a good job of returning that support lately. I am working a second job (out of home) and it’s all I can do right now to get here and put a new post now and then. BUT if you need to chat, please email me and I will respond.
I do keep you all — and your children — in my prayers each day. My heart goes out to you, and I applaud your strength and commitment to your addicts and yourselves. Thank you for being here!
Maybe this is it. Dan came over last night. He looked good. i didn’t see any marks on his arms. (I know you can smoke heroin but I also know that his preferred method of use is the needle). I gave him his Christmas gifts.
It was an awkward visit. We’re both trying not to have his addiction be the center of every conversation. And yet, until he gets his life going, there’s not much else to say. So we talked about his recovery: he is wondering what to do with himself since he cannot go back to his old circle of friends; he will start job searching; he is still journaling about his experience; he hopes to get an apartment in a few months — ready to move forward away from his parents at this point.
Positive: I told him I was trying to get through to a program where they’d give him suboxone (a drug that settles the cravings). He asked me to give him the number, and said he would make the calls. That’s a big step in my mind — that he is ready to take the responsibility for his own recovery to that extent. Heck. He’ll be 20 in a couple of months. Mama is learning to let go.
[Note: I really don’t feel as hopeless as this poem portrays; but I have felt like this at certain moments along the way.]
You came home today.
You came home today,
put your arms around me,
said “I love you”
Dried my tears and I am terrified of you.
I don’t know what you’ll do this time.
How often I will see the reaper sneering back at me
through your eyes
before the hatchet takes its final fall.
You don’t live here anymore.
I’ll take your kisses and your hugs
and your coming over for dinner when you’re tired of
your father’s cooking or political debates and
hours of advice from a man who cannot change your choices.
I miss my son.
You came home today and I think I recognize a man
where my little boy used to be.
I wonder if you still eat dirt
And yearn to build inventions out of broken down machines.
Dan came home from Rehab 2 yesterday. Not home to my house though; home to his dad’s. I was nervous. The hardest part is not knowing what to expect. I do see some differences this time though:
He’s not talking like it’s going to be easy. The first time he came out of rehab, he talked idealistically about how he was changing his life. He was full of rose-colored optimism. Constantly reassuring me. And he was lying the whole time. Using the whole time. Now, he’s talking about the struggle. About how he hopes he can make it. How he hopes he can grow strong enough to serve as an example to others. But he knows it will be hard. He told me, “I’m doing my best mom. I hope I can do it. I think I can. But please know that I might mess up.” Realism. A good sign.
He will drive 30 miles to his after care counseling three times a week. He is not arguing against this. Last time he insisted that he didn’t need support. This time, he says he realizes the only way he can make it is to have a support system in place.
So I’m hoping. But there is that little knot in my stomach. The good news — it’s not there all the time. I don’t think about it all the time. I am sleeping. I am focusing on my other children, my job, my house and not obsessing on Dan and addiction all the time. Another new start for Dan. Another new start for the family.
Praying for you all, and grateful for your support!
I am happy today, after a long break from online writing, to post something that has nothing to do with heroin or addiction or any of that. Today I was introduced to a blog, created by a new online friend. The blog is titled “Beauty in Wisdom” and it is the result of a photographer’s journey into the beauty of aging. Well thank goodness someone is doing this! I have been so disappointed to see aging women trying to look like they are young girls. It really hit me the last time I saw Marlo Thomas on the tv news. Sure, I can understand a little “nip and tuck” but this is ridiculous.
I’m concerned about the message our younger generations are receiving when so few women in the public eye are willing to grow old gracefully and allow the wisdom of their age to shine through their eyes…to allow the wisdom of their age and the incredible experiences of their lives give life to wrinkled skin so that it can be seen as BEAUTIFUL. There is beauty in aging. There is beauty in wisdom that only comes with age.
Anyway — please check out http://beautyofwisdom-robbiekaye.blogspot.com/, and if you appreciate RobbieKaye’s wonderful work as much as I do, let her know it. Let’s support each other wherever and whenever we can. Thanks!