Category Archives: Heroin

What I’m learning as I learn it.

Takin’ it to the streets…

Some of you have been living with this already, I know.  Last night Dan’s dad had to let him go to the streets.  We discovered he has taken things from our homes to pawn to get drug money.  We drew that boundary awhile ago — steal from us and you’re out.  So he’s  out.  I guess I can be thankful the snow is gone and we’re having warm weather.  Last time we kicked him out he lived in his car.  But now he has no car…and no phone.  So he’s out there somewhere.  Takin’ it to the streets. 

p.s. This Sunday, Easter Day, will be one year since that first phone call from the police — the first time I heard the word “heroin” in connection to my boy.  Interesting timing.

Prayers to all.  And much love.  And God’s blessings in whatever form they need to take to let you know that we are not alone.  XOXO

Happy Birthday, Danny

Dan turned 20 yesterday.  See how this cake is a little wobbly?  It’s an appropriate image for how we all felt yesterday — Dan included.  We all planned to go out to dinner — his father, brother, sister and I, plus Dan and his girlfriend.  We planned to leave at 7PM.  Dan went out at 2:00 with a friend.  tick.  tick.  tick.  Seven o’clock and no Dan.  7:15.  At 7:20 he comes in the door.  No explanation.  A mumbled “sorry.”  His sister had already given up and gone out with her friends, and his girlfriend wasn’t with him.  So four of us went.  Awkward. 

Don’t get me wrong, I am, in my deepest heart, thankful for another birthday.  But seeing the tracks on his arms … it was hard to feel any mood of celebration. 

Heppy Birthday, Danny my boy.

The Tell Tale Test

AKA, “UA’s are our friend.” 

But waiting for the results, that’s a challenge.  My son took his first UA (urine analysis) since being out of rehab.  I think it was two days ago.  He has given permission for his case worker to give results to his dad.  No word yet. 

 Tick… Tock… Tick… Tock…

NIMBY

Or in this case “NIMFY” (Not in my front yard) or “NOMS” (Not on my street)! 

I got home from choir practice tonight to find Dan’s car parked out in front of my house with him and five of his “old” friends sitting in it.  I recognized those faces.  And the scene seriously triggered panic in my soul.  I texted him “I thought you weren’t going to hang out with those people anymore and WHY ARE YOU SITTING IN FRONT OF MY HOUSE?”  Anyway, he went back to his dad’s and called me (at my request) to talk about it.

I said, “You might not remember much about the last six months but I remember everything.  I love you and I want you to be well.  If you are going to break your own rule and associate with those people, do not do it in front of my house please.”  He apologized.  Said he is fine.  My stomach is nauseous and I’m still awake at 11:45PM.  So easily disturbed, I am.

(I wish I was the ocean.)

Another New Start

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!

One Mom, One Long Deep Sigh

So here we are…December 26, 2009…one day past Christmas.  The best I can do right now is one long deep sigh. 

Christmas Eve was a good day until I started getting ready for church.  Was it that my daughter refused to go to church on Christmas Eve, for the first time ever, saying she thought it would just make her angry?  Was it that Dan, my oldest, in past years would have been the one to encourage the other two to join me whether they liked it or not, just because it would make me smile?  Was it that Al, the 17 year old, left a movie early to join me, not only to make me smile but because he is beginning to understanding something about God and Faith?

For all of these reasons, and because I realized I didn’t have a Christmas outfit this year, I started crying as I got ready for church.  And as I drove to church.  And when me friend, Beverley, gave me a hug and said “how are you?” once I arrived at church. 

Understand, I don’t have a problem crying in church; I’ve done it many times.  But on Christmas Eve I was singing, on stage, in front of everyone.  Not a good time for mascara down the cheeks. 

Honestly?  It was because Dan is in rehab and my deepest gut says that he’s still not quite ready to fight his addiction…a reaction that seems to be playing out as true.  He has continually been texting his brother to bring suboxone to the rehab center for him.  That would be illegal and against the center’s rules.

Tonight, I’m tired of being the mother of an addict.  Tonight, just for this night, I don’t want to be that anymore.  If you’re in my shoes, you know what I mean.  Tomorrow I’ll get up and continue to pray for my son.  But tonight … one long deep sigh.

His Life

Dan’s life is his life.  Dan — my addict son — was arrested early this morning.  My phone rang just after 2AM.  So back to jail he goes.  Now it’s almost 5AM and I’m still up and he hasn’t yet called from jail.  Perhaps he won’t.  Perhaps he is trying to let me rest.  Somehow, he still cares about me beneath the craziness.  I’m sad, but also numb, and also…hopeful.  Because God is greater than drug addiction.  Nothing else to say right now.

Tug of Tags

I am happy to see — for the first time, I think — that the size of the “God” tag is larger than the size of the “Heroin” tag on this blog site.  Go God!!

Those Sad Days

Today is one of those sad days.  It was preceded by happy days.  I had stopped writing here for awhile because things were going along fairly smoothly and I was happy to take a break from defining myself as “the mother of an addict.”    But here I am again.

Today my ex husband discovered that there were checks missing from his checkbook.  He called the bank and yes, indeed, my addict son had stolen checks from his dad and written them to himself and cashed them.  Then my ex realized he had a box of checks up in his closet.  He took a look for them and found that one whole set of checks was missing.   He called the bank and closed his account.  It’s a sad day.

My son called and cried when he realized we knew.  There are two of him.  The real one and the addict.  And we see who’s winning.

My prayers are continual.  And I feel like … I feel like my son has died, and yet there can be no funeral.  As if he has been kidnapped maybe; only there is no ransom we can pay to get him back.

Narcotics Anonymous International

If you have some dollars to spare, here’s a place to donate:  http://www.firstgiving.com/narconon.  Please consider giving to narconon.  Every dollar helps, and if you pass on buying lunch or fancy coffee once or twice a week, you can give a little more.  It helps our children and our families, our loved ones in addiction — and those in countries where there are less resources need help too.

Thanks for considering this.