In the last year of this craziness, I have managed my best to detach with love and live my life despite what is or isn't happening with my addicted son. I have been learning everyday how to let go and some days or months I do it better then others. This week I'm not doing it well at all.
I have been waiting for his "bottom" to come before it's too late. I have been obsessing again on my biggest fear of all - If they day ever comes that he overdoses and dies out there - it will be too late for me to say I should have done something, I should have tried, I should have intervened. He has been running the streets, homeless for over a year. He has no car (sold the one I gave him for drugs, motels), no phone (I think I have bought 5), little to no contact with family or friends. If that isn't a bottom I don't know what is. He steals to survive and is cycling through the revolving door we call the courts. From one county to the next and has never spent more then 5 days in jail as far as I know yet. The first time he was arrested and had to kick in jail, the dope sickness was horrendous and he swore off heroin, was never going to go through that hell again. But it was fleeting and he was soon to be right back to it. I used to hope for mandated treatment through the courts but they just drop the possession charges and send him on his way. The arrests for petty theft etc turn into diversion programs that don't include any drug tests. I am tired of waiting and putting my hopes in the system.
This week I have gone off the deep end again and become an emotional wreck. Perhaps starting this blog sent me there, I don't know. What I know is I am wrecked with emotional turmoil over wanting to do something to save my son again and a head full of Nar-non telling me he can only save himself.
It had been a really really long time since I had even cried. This week I have had multiple crying meltdowns as I have tried to implement and force my family on board with some sort of intervention. I know that this idea is fear driven. They say fear is the flip side of faith so I must be losing faith.
My husband is trying to ground me back to reality and my daughter is so afraid of my being hurt. I know I shouldn't be making an emotional decision when I am in this mind set. I am taking the steps to get myself out of it. I went to a meeting & I made an appointment with my shrink to get on anti-anxiety meds again.
Every fiber of my being tells me I have to do something. I have to feel like I have TRIED EVERYTHING to help him even if it gets me nowhere...I know this is a dangerous road to go down and I can't stop myself from wanting to do something. It's that dark time when I feel like my little boy is drowning in a lake and I am supposed to sit back and let him. Then I have to remind myself he is not that little boy.
Like so many other normal American families, ours too has suffered great economic hardship these last few years. In reality, there really is no money for a professional interventionist, much less any private paid rehab and this is all some convoluted dream that will never be. Conversations with my husband this week have not gone well in this regards with him trying to be rational and me being in an emotional rage - I have argued I should sell my car and drive a beater to pay for it. I argued that we would do it without hesitation if our son were dying of cancer and it was the only hope of saving him. When I brought it up to my daughter, she reminded me that he knows where all the free detoxes and treatment options are (we have personally given him the numbers and driven him there ourselves) and he had made it clear he doesn't want the help. She is angry at him for the basket-case I am sounding like again and wants to protect me from being hurt and disappointed. I get it, but it is so emotionally painful.
We agreed that I will continue to do some research..if I can find low/no cost help my family may get on board. (Am I dreaming?) My goal for today is to keep my emotions in check so I can make rational decisions, not desperate ones.
To the other families of addicted loved ones or kids out there? What are your experiences or thoughts on interventions? Or do I sound like a crazed desperate mother trapped in emotional turmoil?