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What distance is safe?!
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<blockquote data-quote="Childofmine" data-source="post: 622633" data-attributes="member: 17542"><p>Echo, I also wanted to write to you...</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Yes they do. Their coping skills appear to be nil. But then I think that, wow, he is living on the street and surviving. That is very basic stuff. He is living---breathing, sleeping, eating, moving from place to place every day with just a backpack and nothing else. Could I do that? Would I do that? I don't know. I guess I would if I had to. Hard to fathom. </p><p></p><p>So...is it when they have to deal with "regular people in regular society" with all of the responsibilities and expectations of "taking care of yourself" that they can't/won't/don't do it? I've completely gotten rid of "you have to go to college and get married and buy a house and have 2.5 kids." That's done. Now it's this: "you have to get a job in a factory or at a convenience store and find a room to rent or a crappy efficiency apartment that is super-cheap and walk to work every day and heat up cans of whatever for dinner". I know...that's still expectations, but I'm getting there! : ) Maybe the reality is/will be: spending days at the day shelter eating breakfast and lunch, walking around town, getting food stamps, talking the right talk, but not making it happen. Maybe that is HIS best effort. </p><p></p><p>Actually, when I think about that, I think alcoholics can make that kind of life happen long-term. Usually, drug addicts can't because they end up stealing in order to buy drugs and then law enforcement steps in. That has been my observation and the observation of others and one major difference in alcoholics/drug addicts. So the above "reality" I wrote usually has an end because drug addicts take drugs. That's what they do. They can white-knuckle it for a while (my son usually can for 30 to 60 days) and then they go back to the drugs. Without a program of recovery. </p><p></p><p>Oh, Echo, who knows? (sigh)</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Yes, when I first read the above I thought, wow, Alb had so, so, so far to fall that offering a mild response like that would be completely impossible. Instead I bet she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs. That is the value of waiting. To not immediately respond so we can get some perspective. Otherwise, we are back at it---just as crazy as they are---screaming our deep disappointment and grief and fear in reaction to yet another backtracking by them. Ugh. I like your responses very much. A mild response regardless of how I feel inside. </p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Oh Echo. This broke my heart. I was there with you, seeing him walking down the street. It brings tears to my eyes even now. He is our son. He is everyone's son. This is the heartbreaking, can't sleep at night, will I ever survive this stuff. </p><p></p><p>We give them gloves (rehab, food, money, a cell phone, a place to live, a college education, new clothes, take them to get their driver's license again and pay for it, bus passes, new Nikes, on and on and on and on) and then a few days later, there are no gloves and their hands are red and chapped.</p><p></p><p>And we see...again....again....again...that we just can't fix this. We can't give them enough pairs of gloves to keep them warm. </p><p></p><p>And this is the hardest thing in the world to see and to grasp and to remember and to finally. Finally. Finally. Accept. </p><p></p><p>And then we STILL have to do it again. We still have to buy more gloves, out of our deep love, or offer to help them buy a bike once they get a job and a place to live, we still have to do SOMETHING, because to do NOTHING is incomprehensible to us. </p><p></p><p>And we have to accept all over again. We have to do it every single day. It doesn't stick. Just like their big plans and big talk and steps forward doesn't stick.</p><p></p><p>Oh, I see myself so clearly walking the same exact path my son is walking. His is for drugs. Mine is for control. </p><p></p><p>God, help me let go and give it ALL to you. That has to be my prayer every day, every hour, every minute sometimes.</p><p></p><p>Thank you for continuing to teach me this lesson by the vision of your son walking down the street. I hate it. I wish I could do something about it. But I can't. </p><p></p><p>Blessings and prayers and sunshine for you today, my friend Echo.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Childofmine, post: 622633, member: 17542"] Echo, I also wanted to write to you... Yes they do. Their coping skills appear to be nil. But then I think that, wow, he is living on the street and surviving. That is very basic stuff. He is living---breathing, sleeping, eating, moving from place to place every day with just a backpack and nothing else. Could I do that? Would I do that? I don't know. I guess I would if I had to. Hard to fathom. So...is it when they have to deal with "regular people in regular society" with all of the responsibilities and expectations of "taking care of yourself" that they can't/won't/don't do it? I've completely gotten rid of "you have to go to college and get married and buy a house and have 2.5 kids." That's done. Now it's this: "you have to get a job in a factory or at a convenience store and find a room to rent or a crappy efficiency apartment that is super-cheap and walk to work every day and heat up cans of whatever for dinner". I know...that's still expectations, but I'm getting there! : ) Maybe the reality is/will be: spending days at the day shelter eating breakfast and lunch, walking around town, getting food stamps, talking the right talk, but not making it happen. Maybe that is HIS best effort. Actually, when I think about that, I think alcoholics can make that kind of life happen long-term. Usually, drug addicts can't because they end up stealing in order to buy drugs and then law enforcement steps in. That has been my observation and the observation of others and one major difference in alcoholics/drug addicts. So the above "reality" I wrote usually has an end because drug addicts take drugs. That's what they do. They can white-knuckle it for a while (my son usually can for 30 to 60 days) and then they go back to the drugs. Without a program of recovery. Oh, Echo, who knows? (sigh) Yes, when I first read the above I thought, wow, Alb had so, so, so far to fall that offering a mild response like that would be completely impossible. Instead I bet she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs. That is the value of waiting. To not immediately respond so we can get some perspective. Otherwise, we are back at it---just as crazy as they are---screaming our deep disappointment and grief and fear in reaction to yet another backtracking by them. Ugh. I like your responses very much. A mild response regardless of how I feel inside. Oh Echo. This broke my heart. I was there with you, seeing him walking down the street. It brings tears to my eyes even now. He is our son. He is everyone's son. This is the heartbreaking, can't sleep at night, will I ever survive this stuff. We give them gloves (rehab, food, money, a cell phone, a place to live, a college education, new clothes, take them to get their driver's license again and pay for it, bus passes, new Nikes, on and on and on and on) and then a few days later, there are no gloves and their hands are red and chapped. And we see...again....again....again...that we just can't fix this. We can't give them enough pairs of gloves to keep them warm. And this is the hardest thing in the world to see and to grasp and to remember and to finally. Finally. Finally. Accept. And then we STILL have to do it again. We still have to buy more gloves, out of our deep love, or offer to help them buy a bike once they get a job and a place to live, we still have to do SOMETHING, because to do NOTHING is incomprehensible to us. And we have to accept all over again. We have to do it every single day. It doesn't stick. Just like their big plans and big talk and steps forward doesn't stick. Oh, I see myself so clearly walking the same exact path my son is walking. His is for drugs. Mine is for control. God, help me let go and give it ALL to you. That has to be my prayer every day, every hour, every minute sometimes. Thank you for continuing to teach me this lesson by the vision of your son walking down the street. I hate it. I wish I could do something about it. But I can't. Blessings and prayers and sunshine for you today, my friend Echo. [/QUOTE]
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