No News Isn't Always Good News...

I haven't blogged in awhile because I thought, hoped dreamed that "no news" would be "good news." I am not going to write this blog about speculation or my personal feelings regarding my daughter, nor is this blog intended to make allegations against her or stir up further bad things in her life. It's my blog, my feelings, my thoughts...that's all. 

I have reached the point in my mind, that if she is using, then she will have to be accountable for her actions. If she is not, then I am very happy for her and hope that path continues. As for me, I'm past the point of trying to change things in her life. I've let go. Almost completely. I'm ready for her to do this solely on her own. I've grown tired of losing sleep, stressing out, crying, being angry---all over her actions, decisions, and the fear that she will die as a repercussion. It's simply out of my hands. I know that. 

Tonight, I was chatting with a friend on the phone. She is one of my biggest supporters. She has walked in my shoes, although I haven't quite walked in hers. She lost her son 2 years ago from an overdose. She and I seem to be able to still see the humor in hopeless situations because we have both been there. We both have felt the disbelief, anger, hostility, hopelessness, sadness and despair. Somehow though, we can make each other laugh through our tears or cursing rages, whichever mood we may be in that day.

Tonight, we were laughing and talking about all the things we have had disappear in our homes when our children were in active addiction, living at home. Not only would belongings disappear, but at times, other things would APPEAR. Things that made you shake your head and think, "What are these doing here?' Straws, foil, empty bottles, spoons...weird stuff that until you are familiar with drug addiction, you would think nothing about. She was telling me a story about finding a dark putty in her bathroom cabinet. She was convinced it was "Black Tar Heroin." She had never seen the stuff, nor did she think her child was doing such a drug--but probably, like me, she had watched "Intervention" one too many times on TV and could recognize the types of narcotics. My friend is a smoker and her laugh is raspy. I laugh just thinking about her telling this story. She said her husband came in and she said "What is this?? Is this black tar heroin? I know it has to be black tar heroin."  He stated, "It is the putty, we used to patch the bathtub." Assuming a substance is black tar heroin, is probably not the first thought that would run through a parent's mind in most houses...but that is the harsh reality in a house with an addict. I certainly wish that neither me nor my friend ever had the experiences we have had. I wish I could be blinded to the world we think is only in Hollywood or on A&E. 

An addict will steal you blind. My daughter learned in treatment, that "An alcoholic will steal your wallet. A drug addict will steal your wallet and help you look for it." Such truth to those words. They are masters of manipulation. The lying, stealing, conniving, in which you never think your own family member could be capable--but they are, when drugs are controlling their life. I think back to when the times my daughter would have parties (against my rules and when she was home alone) and my son's things would come up missing. I think the poor kid had an Ipod Touch for only one week, that he got for his birthday. One time he had his stereo completely ripped out of his car, along with everything else in his car. I'm certainly not claiming my daughter took those things from her brother--but I guarantee she knew the person that did. Why on earth would you want to be around "friends" that steal from you? I know I don't. Drug addicts cannot trust themselves or each other. 

I don't know why me and my girlfriend can look back on these "missing items" and "paraphernalia spotting's" and laugh. Maybe we laugh to keep from crying. Maybe laughter is the only thing we really can do in our situation. 

I personally felt relief when my daughter no longer lived at home. It was easier on everyone. 

Addiction is a process and disease that isn't cured overnight. There are going to be setbacks. The problem is, that when there is a setback, it causes the family to feel betrayed, hurt, devastated, angry and emotionally exhausted. It doesn't mean that we don't still love our addict. I love my daughter with every ounce of my heart. I hate the addict. I just reached a point where I desperately needed to focus and worry about the other three members of my family who AREN'T addicts. I have a 2 year old who loves life, wants to learn, loves to play, and wants my attention. I have an almost 22 year old who is in college, studying, playing college football and sends me scripture verses each day. I have tried to go to lunch with him or visit him more often, just because I feel so much of the last few years of his life has been overshadowed by his sister's problems. It's not fair. I also have a husband, who is amazing. He works hard to provide us everything and to provide my daughter with health care that she needs. I owe those three my attention. They want it and they deserve it. Addiction can't be fixed by me, or I would have "fixed her" long ago. I have had to back up and let go. 

So there is my update. I'm sorry for taking so long to post a new blog. I've received emails from people looking forward to them, because I know that several families are facing their own private hell. I do get some personal relief, knowing that telling our story, is helping others. I do want to reach out and assist anyone I can that may be going through the same thing with their child or family member.  

As for my family--we are still on a long road and I pray for my daughter every day. I know that she knows her family loves her very much and that we always will. 

Thank you for the prayers, notes and concerns. I will try to write more often. 

Easter and Birthday Blessings

Well tomorrow, my beautiful daughter turns 24 years old. This is a special Easter for my family because not only is it her birthday---but she is ALIVE and well. Last year, Easter was a nightmare for us and I honestly didn’t think she would live to see another.

She has been out of treatment and in the “real world” now for about six weeks. That is six weeks that she has never accomplished before---so I haven’t blogged in about a month, because I was trying to allow myself enough time to “breathe” and to just stop and smell the roses and enjoy the moment. Day by day…hour by hour…minute by minute. I admit that I have panic attacks of sorts if she doesn’t immediately answer her phone, or appears tired or sleeps later than I think she should. She said, “Mom, I’m a human being. I’m not always going to be in a good mood. I’m going to have days that I am tired and some days are harder than others---just like other people.”  She is correct and I should not expect her to be supernatural. It’s good that she has feelings. It’s good that she has emotions. It’s good that she can be a butthead.

I hate the fact that I analyze her constantly. It’s a “me” problem, not a “her” problem---but I want to put her in a bubble or a barrier that keeps her from feeling any cravings, see anything that reminds her of bad things and block people who may tempt her---but I know that is not possible.  She has to keep moving about in this world, on her own and without my paranoia. I need to just chillllllllllllllllll—because truly, I have no power over any of it. As a mom, though, it’s hard to let go.

Yesterday she had a hair appointment that I had scheduled for her as a birthday treat. She hadn’t had her hair colored or a professional cut in over a year. She lives about an hour or so away---so I told her that the appointment was at 1:30 rather than 2:00 p.m., hoping she would be on time. I am accustomed to her old self, being late or not showing up at all. I missed a call from her at 1:22. I tried calling her back and got her voicemail. My heart started to race, my mind started thinking, “She isn’t coming. She is late. She is calling to give me some dang excuse.”  Since I was already out and about---I decided to drive over to the hair salon and wait for her to arrive, if and when she arrived.  As I pulled over the hill, I could see the salon’s parking lot---and guess what????? Her car was there!!!!!!!   I parked and went inside and looked for her, and saw her hot pink and black Nike tennis shoes hanging out from under the cape—and there she was! She said, “Mom!!!!”  She smiled so big and so did I!!! I said, “I just knew you wouldn’t be here. I missed your call and was panicking.”  She said, “I was calling to tell you that I arrived.”  Oh my goodness. Relief. Happiness. Pride. I know its not a big deal to most people that a person can make it on time to their hair appointment---but to me, it spoke volumes about her current state of mind.

She came to the house after her hair appointment. She looked beautiful. She’ll be  home for a couple of days. On this Easter, I am counting my blessings. I pray that she continues to keep moving forward. Some days she may not move forward at all---but I always tell her, “That’s ok, as long as you don’t go backward. Just stay steady.”  I pray that I quit trying to analyze her every thought and emotion. Addiction truly is a family disease and we all have to work through it together. Not only has addiction ruled her life in the past---but also it has ruled my entire family’s life because of the trickle down effects. I’m just so thankful my family is in one piece this holiday. I pray that next Easter, she is even stronger. Right now, though, I’m just happy to have this holiday and thankful that I get to see my daughter turn 24 years old. So many of my friends and people in my support group, will not get to spend Easter with their children. Please pray for those who have lost their loved ones---and pray for those who are still fighting. I hope other parents can have a good Easter next year. Where there is life---there is still hope.

Thank you for all your support. I hope you all have a blessed Easter.

Not least, but last…

HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my beautiful, smart, witty, funny, challenging and compassionate daughter.

Remembering Alex- The "O" in Joy

On March 22, 2012, my family was vacationing in Florida. Well, my daughter wasn’t with us—we were not on the best of terms.  It was my husband, my son, his girlfriend and myself. It was our last day in Florida, when I got a call from my daughter, who was in tears. “Alex died!!! Alex died!”  Her longtime friend, only 21 years old had passed from an accidental overdose.

Let’s go back about 15 years. My daughter had met Alex when she was in grade school. He was a cousin of her best girlfriends. He was a dark haired boy with the biggest brown eyes. He was such a funny kid with a personality that could light up a room.  He hammed it up with parents and was always a favorite of mine. He was hysterical. He was the middle child of 3 kids and his parents are just as hilarious. They were a fun, kind, hard working family that ran the gamut of traveling baseball and sports with their children. They were raising their kids in a suburb in Southwest Missouri, where the town relished sports and the American dream. The town still relishes sports and the American dream. For some though, the American dream has been tarnished now.

Alex was boisterous and happy and adventurous. I guess you could say that he became too adventurous. As he got older, he began to indulge in alcohol and then pills. One time he drank so much that he was hospitalized with severe alcohol poisoning.  It almost cost him his life. I visited him in the hospital and his mom and dad and grandparents were by his side. He was not awake to talk to me---but his mom said that he was so lucky to be alive and that he had done so much damage to his liver that he should not drink again or it could kill him. He dodged a bullet. His life was spared. He made it.

Alex graduated from high school. He continued to party and continued to be the life of the party. Everyone loved Alex. Unfortunately, he started using more pills and his pill addiction had become a huge force in his life. His parents had kicked him out, let him back in, kicked him out…and the cycle continued. They were worried. They didn’t know what to do. They did the best they could. They loved him unconditionally. Like most parents---they tried it all.

When I got the call regarding his passing, I couldn’t help but reflect on the little boy I had known. I had just seen him weeks before working at a drive through at a restaurant. He came to the window, all personable, “HEY STEPH!!!”  I said, “Well, hey, Al!”  It didn’t matter what was going on in his life, he still was friendly and kind when I would see him. I knew he and my daughter had both made a mess of their lives at that time---but I also knew the kind of kids that they once were. You couldn’t help but love him. “How did this happen to him?”  It made me sick.

His parents asked me to do a video for his funeral service. I was honored. I have only made a few videos for graduation and another for another friend who passed—but had never made one for a formal service. I went to their house to get the disc of photos. I was nervous about going there. It was a sad and scary reality that I feared would happen in my own life. A parent’s worst nightmare. I was scared to face the same parents that I had known for so long. Longtime teen sweethearts, having to bury their child. What do you even say to someone? No words can possibly ease the pain.  I walked into their house and they both hugged me. His dad began to cry. Here was this man, who I watched through the years, coaching his son’s in baseball---a funny, fun-loving guy, who always seemed so strong. He was a crumpled mess. He was broken hearted. He was devastated.  It broke my heart. I had no words. Alex’s mom tried to stay composed but she looked so tired and so numb. She seemed to be the one who was trying to hold things together, but maybe reality hadn’t quite sunk in yet. You could feel the love in that house. You could also feel the pain and absence of their child already.

I took the pictures home and began to make the video. I started it with a picture of his daddy holding him for the very first time. Ironically, his mom wasn’t in any of the pictures. I even asked her if she had any—and she couldn't find any. She was always the picture taker.   Always there—just never on that side of the camera. I hated that she wasn’t in any of them. She remembered the facts and circumstances behind every photo. She was the one who captured the memory. I finished the video with a current photo. He was a fan of the Green Bay Packers. His pallbearers all wore Green Bay shirts at his service. During the service, his parents had someone sitting between them; I believe it was a niece, whom they were comforting. After the video played, I looked over and saw them stand up and go to each other and embrace. They just stood there crying, holding one another. It was one of the saddest things I had ever seen. Here these two people were, who brought this brown-eyed baby into the world---and having to bury him at age 21.

“How could their lives ever be the same without this dark and curly haired funny guy? How could his friends ever be the same without his laugh and entertainment? How could his siblings ever find normalcy again?  How can his parents live through this?” After all, he was their “O” in their Joy. His mom told me their stocking holders at Christmas spell JOY. They hang their 3 children’s stockings and Alex, goes in the middle, being the middle child. He is the “O” in Joy. She just kept saying one night, “He is my O in Joy. He will always be the O in my joy!” For the two years since his death, she has continued to hang the stockings.

6 months ago, I was driving my daughter to Dallas for treatment and Alex’s mom talked to her on the phone. She asked her to play a song, so I downloaded it. She said it was a song Alex used to listen to and he said that my daughter had shared it with him and it had become a favorite of hers. It was called “Into the Ocean” by Blue October. Never heard it in my life until that day. The chorus goes, like this:

                        “I want to swim away, but don’t know how

                        Sometimes I feel just like I’m falling in the ocean

                        Let the waves up take me down

                        Let the hurricane set in motion…yeah

                        Let the rain of what I feel right now…come down

                        Let the rain come down…”

What appropriate lyrics to how we were all feeling right then. Here my daughter was trying to save her life…and Alex’s mom was throwing her a life vest. As they talked for about 30-45 minutes, my daughter stayed very strong but I could tell Alex’s mom was crying. I could hear her say, “You have to do this. You must do this. You must fix this. He is with you.”  They hung up and my daughter cried. She said, “I can’t believe we have put our mom’s through this pain. I can’t believe he is gone. I feel so bad for her.”

I talk to his mom quite a bit. We are very good friends. I could not ask for a more supportive friend. Alex’s parents want nothing more than to see other people’s lives changed and some good to come from their tragic loss. We talk a lot about the struggles of our children and how we wish we could have changed the path they chose. Of course now we see things we did not see back then and we compare notes. We reminisce about their childhood and funny things they did as kids. I know that Alex’s parents are cheerleaders who are at the finish line rooting for my daughter to succeed. I would like to think that if I lost my child, I could be as supportive to others as they are to me. Their friendship has strengthened me. I know each day they have to make a conscious effort to keep going and living their lives. I know that the hole in their hearts will never be filled.

I hope other’s can look at Alex’s parents and see the enormous pain his loss has caused and if they need help, they will seek it.  I know nothing would make his parent’s happier than if his lesson could change lives. He loved life and he would not have wanted it to end on March 22, 2012 and knowing how much he loved people---I know he would want others to learn from his tragic ending. My heart still aches for his parents. I am blessed by their friendship and I pray for them daily.

So---on March 22nd, please say a prayer for Alex’s family and remember their “O” in Joy. 

The Cell Phone Dilemma. To Deactivate or Not to Deactivate.

We can all relate to the dependency on a cell phone in our lives. I’m addicted to mine. I hate it. I wish I could throw it in the trash and never look at it again. If I did though, I might miss something on Facebook or Instagram. The conveniences of a cell phone make them a necessity in our lives. The cell phone is a powerful tool, sometimes, a negative one. Not only does it take attention away from family, interrupt your meals in a restaurant (I hate it when people talk on their phone in a restaurant), but can also be a useful tool for an addict when they are seeking drugs. This leads to the constant dilemma of parents with addicted children-“Do I shut off his/her cell phone?” It’s a question I asked myself many times. There are times when me, my husband and son all agreed that “yes, her phone should be shut off.”  When I did shut it off, it lasted about two weeks, maybe three.  In those weeks, I would cry at night and lie in my husband’s arms, just praying for a glimpse of my daughter’s face. I can remember saying to him, “I just want to see her profile, her little nose, her big eyes…I just want to see my baby’s face.” One night during a crying episode, my husband said something that I will never forget.  He said, “Stephanie, it is worth the $20 per month for you to have peace of mind. Turn her phone back on.”  He was right. I got out my laptop computer and logged onto our cell phone account and turned it back on.

After we reactivated it, I sent her a text to let her know. Magically, she still had her phone readily available. Did she know I would buckle? Did she know I would lose the stand-off and give in? I really didn’t care the rhyme or reason, I was just happy to get back the text that said, “Thank you.”  My heart started beating again.  Almost immediately I was able to sleep better. Better, not well…but better. Nights are the worst because your mind can wander and take you through every scary scenario and every tragic ending you can create in your head. Sleep has become something I don't get very much of in recent years.

I have probably shut her phone off about 15 times since that event 4 years ago. I’ve changed her number 4-5 times. I’ve confiscated her messages and intruded into her private conversations and I offer no apologies for that. We pay the bill. We have a right to know what’s going on with her phone, if it leads back to my name and my bill. If she wants to pay for a phone herself---she can have the luxury of privacy. Her phone has been a plethora of information through the years.   I’ve learned abbreviations for drugs, nicknames of “friends” and have blocked many numbers. Smart Limits from AT&T became one of my favorite tools.

             Another thing I quickly realized while she had no cell phone, was that she still managed to get by in life. She still managed to get to the store, go with her “friends” places and communicate with the people she wanted.  She just wasn’t communicating with me very often and that was hard on me. I wanted to be able to reach my daughter if and when I wanted to---for my own sanity. I wanted to know she was alive and still walking the earth. I wanted to know that I had one more night, one more day to try to get my daughter back. The cell phone was on, just because of me, not for her…for me.

Some parents or loved ones feel strongly that shutting off the addict’s phone is the best way to handle the situation because it emphasizes tough love and paying for a phone is considered enabling. I can definitely see their point. Sure, by giving her a phone to call drug dealers, I was making it a bit easier for her, but in my justification, she was going to do that anyway.  To the parents who can shut off the phone and leave it off—I applaud them. To them, I say “Good for you! I admire your strength.”  It’s true that by allowing them to have a phone, you are giving them contact with the drug world that they might not have. The phone is another expense that they don’t have to work for; and it is also a tool for them to send hateful text messages to their family in the heat of their active addiction. Those are all things that parents must consider. Some parents prefer the lack of contact. It gives them better peace not having to deal with the constant bantering from their addict. They prefer “not to know.” I can completely understand their thinking.

While in treatment, most facilities will not allow cell phones. Not only for confidentiality reasons (they don’t want patient’s posting photos of anonymous and sometimes famous clients on social media); and they don’t want a patient to have contact with the outside world and sometimes negative influences. I personally love it when there isn’t an option of whether she can have her cell phone and it takes the decision out of my hands. I love being able to say “Sorry, no phones allowed” and not worrying about her well-being. It is a peaceful feeling.  The moment she can have her phone again, a fear overtakes my sanity at times. I think I called her 27 times in a row one night. I admit it. I was scared and co-dependent on trying to save her.

I have had people ask me my opinion on whether to shut off their addict’s phone—and my answer is “I don’t know.”  If you can sleep at night and it’s easier for you not to communicate—shut the thing off. If you can’t sleep and prefer communication—then don’t. I don’t think there is a right or wrong answer. I think with everything else regarding addiction, you have to do what is best for yourself and your family.

Personally, right now I’m trying to conquer my “Phone Nazi” habits. Once she has her phone back, I’m going to try to make a point not to call her very often. I’m going to try to stay off the Smart Limits and I’m going to pray to God she uses her cell phone for employment and good purposes. I’m going to try not to research every number on my bill. I’m going to TRY to let her have the ability to make good choices and stand on her feet. Let’s face it, whether I monitor her phone or not, is not going to change a thing. Her choice to be clean is in her hands, its not reliant upon a cell phone.

So—the cell phone dilemma is a personal preference. It’s not going to win or lose the battle. It’s not going to change your world. It will or won’t give you peace of mind…so don’t beat yourself up on whichever route you choose. If you are making a decision you feel comfortable about---it's the right one.