A
AmericanGirl
Guest
You know those people who call your house from the police fund? Well difficult child will be one of them starting Sunday. It's only part time and he knows he needs another part time position.
Funny but he could do great at this....his manipulation skills are legendary.
Got a lovely email back from the sober house manager. He and I are on the same page.
Finally, just sharing something I wrote this week....
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[h=6]Yesterday, I watched my beloved son stand before a judge for the sixth time this year.
Normally, difficult events often get easier to navigate the more we experience them. This is not the case when your child is an addict. The pain just gets deeper. It's like an enormous, dark grey, weeping pile of garbage in your heart. It emits odors which cause you to retch. It contains deep, black holes which frighten you to your very core. So, you close that door and try to go on with your life as best you can. You remind yourself, "I didn't create it, I didn't cause it and I can't cure it." Still, you hold out hope. Hope that the child you knew before addiction took them hostage will finally be released back into your loving arms. Or I did until yesterday.
I hoped that my son, who has proven his intellect, creativity, humor and heart, would begin to choose wisely again. I hoped he would see his value in this world and use the many gifts his creator bestowed upon him.
I realized I can no longer harbor hope for him. You see, a hope is like a wish. If I wish, then I am not detached. I must stay detached from him in order to keep my serenity and sanity. That's the cruelest part of addiction for a mother. You must completely detach from this person you gave life to in order to save yourself.
Hope is, however, not missing from my life. I have great hope for myself. I see a brighter future for me, one without the consistent worry about my son's next poor decision.
What's required of me? To firmly keep my focus on God. To listen carefully to His guidance. To work my program through meetings, reading and outreach. To refuse to allow myself to isolate. To repeatedly ask myself, "What do you need?" and then to take care of myself.
What about my relationship with my son? I will continue to love him. He needs my love now more than ever. I will relax and enjoy the good moments with him when they come. I will draw appropriate boundaries where they are needed.
I remind myself that he CHOSE this life and to deny him the opportunity of experiencing the consequences of his actions is wrong. He needs growth. For addicts, growth often comes only after extreme pain. It is pain with a purpose.
Today, I pray for my son, and for all addicts and their families. I pray that they will find the serenity that is available to all of us if we want it.
[/h]
Funny but he could do great at this....his manipulation skills are legendary.
Got a lovely email back from the sober house manager. He and I are on the same page.
Finally, just sharing something I wrote this week....
-------------------
[h=6]Yesterday, I watched my beloved son stand before a judge for the sixth time this year.
Normally, difficult events often get easier to navigate the more we experience them. This is not the case when your child is an addict. The pain just gets deeper. It's like an enormous, dark grey, weeping pile of garbage in your heart. It emits odors which cause you to retch. It contains deep, black holes which frighten you to your very core. So, you close that door and try to go on with your life as best you can. You remind yourself, "I didn't create it, I didn't cause it and I can't cure it." Still, you hold out hope. Hope that the child you knew before addiction took them hostage will finally be released back into your loving arms. Or I did until yesterday.
I hoped that my son, who has proven his intellect, creativity, humor and heart, would begin to choose wisely again. I hoped he would see his value in this world and use the many gifts his creator bestowed upon him.
I realized I can no longer harbor hope for him. You see, a hope is like a wish. If I wish, then I am not detached. I must stay detached from him in order to keep my serenity and sanity. That's the cruelest part of addiction for a mother. You must completely detach from this person you gave life to in order to save yourself.
Hope is, however, not missing from my life. I have great hope for myself. I see a brighter future for me, one without the consistent worry about my son's next poor decision.
What's required of me? To firmly keep my focus on God. To listen carefully to His guidance. To work my program through meetings, reading and outreach. To refuse to allow myself to isolate. To repeatedly ask myself, "What do you need?" and then to take care of myself.
What about my relationship with my son? I will continue to love him. He needs my love now more than ever. I will relax and enjoy the good moments with him when they come. I will draw appropriate boundaries where they are needed.
I remind myself that he CHOSE this life and to deny him the opportunity of experiencing the consequences of his actions is wrong. He needs growth. For addicts, growth often comes only after extreme pain. It is pain with a purpose.
Today, I pray for my son, and for all addicts and their families. I pray that they will find the serenity that is available to all of us if we want it.
[/h]
