It's so hard to watch one child suffer from addiction and watch your other child suffer because of your other's child's addiction. In the last 24 hours I have talked to various people about their experiences and although these people have different stories--they have all experienced the same personal hell.
My 23 year old son is a positive, kind-hearted, hard-working kid. He's always had a fairly easy road when it came to talent, brains, even looks...but the greatest thing about him has always been his kind heart. Since the day that dark eyed boy was born, he was the light of his sister's life. She adored him. She got her first and probably only spanking from her great-grandpa just because she kept pulling on his bassinet when he came home from the hospital, because she wanted to peek over the side to stare at him. Grandpa was certain she was going to tip it over and hurt him.
As they grew older they suffered the loss of many people they loved, they went through their parent's divorce and remarriages and had been through so many things together--but they always had each other. They have supported each other in their multitude of traveling ball teams and sports and she was always his greatest fan and he was hers as well. They were as close as two coats of paint and he loved her and adored her just as much as she did him.
After it became painfully aware we had a problem on our hands with addiction, it began to cause so many issues in our household. I was relieved when she moved out so he could salvage what was left of his school years without the drama. It seemed like the drama was constant and looming. After a couple of weeks, he would not be able to take it any more and would seek her out. He would need assurances she was still alive. When she had her car wreck on Senior night, he was so angry that he waited at the hospital just to see if she was alive---and then he never went back. He said he was not going to bring balloons and celebrate her bad decisions. He was wise beyond his years, now that I look back.
For the last 8 years, he has gone on with his life. He's graduated from high school, played college football, graduated from college, got a job as an accountant and now will be getting married in June. His fiancee even asked her to be in their wedding and my daughter was thrilled. One thing I have noticed though, during the good times, we see those glimpses of the person we love but during the bad times, we see this person we almost "hate." She has been awful to his fiancee and awful to him. He has had to keep going though, and he and his fiancee have gone to many rehab graduations and been as supportive as they can be, while being college students. Her little brother has laid beside her in a hospital bed after she nearly died of an overdose. Her little brother went and picked her up on a highway and brought her home when their own father decided he didn't want to try to help her. Her little brother has been the one who has prayed relentlessly and loved faithfully during times I had no faith at all.
The price of having an addicted sibling can interrupt your life in so many ways that is unfair and as a parent, it really infuriates you to think about the many times that their addiction took your time away from the attention that your other child deserved.
I was talking to a friend tonight, who lost her son and she worries so much about her other two children and their grief and how they are handling it. To this day, his addiction is still taking over his sibling's daily lives because their hearts are still so broken.
I talked to another young girl last night who had a brother pass away a few years ago and she said she misses him every single day but when she sees me, or my blog, or my son--she thinks of the suffering her parents went through during his addiction but now even more so in dealing with his death.
What an awful feeling to have to not only worry about your brother or sister--but also your parents and the effects that your sibling's addiction is having on them. I know my son hears me cry. I know he has heard me cry many times. I know he has had to grow up and be the man in the house back at an age he shouldn't have had to have been.
What an awful feeling as a kid to wonder if "this will be the day that she doesn't make it." What an awful feeling to know that the same person you have loved all your life may never be in your life later down the road. What an awful feeling to think that the person you loved so much growing up will never truly know the love of your life or live to see you hold your first-born child someday.
When I think of my son and the agony he has endured, it breaks my heart. He always feels he didn't do enough, or that he could do more--or that he would've/should've done something differently. It's just not true.
To the siblings of addicts, I pray for you. I cry for you and I challenge you to do the same as parents have to do. Love them and let them go...because you cannot change their course. You have done all you can. You cannot save them. It's not your fault. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to live life. You deserve the successes you have achieved. You didn't create this and you shouldn't pay the price for it. They know you love them...or knew you loved them if they are gone. You did show it. You did tell them. You did. They knew it. My daughter KNOWS her brother loves her. She knows. Your brother or sister knows too.
I pray for all of you who get tangled up into this family disease. You simply do not deserve it.
To my son--you have been the best brother to her and never doubt that. She knows you have and she will always adore you more than any male that ever lived on this earth. Focus on that. Remember those things. The addicts words mean nothing. The addict is not your sister...your sister loves you.
Sunday, February 28, 2016
Monday, February 22, 2016
Giving Up
I think one of the most frustrating things for me in dealing with my daughter's addiction, is the fact that she is a healthy girl, who is killing herself. Today, all over social media, I am reminded of the beauty of life and how deeply painful it is to lose someone you love. Several of my friends on social media this week are going through agony.
I have one friend who is losing her mom to cancer. Seeing the pictures of her mom fighting to hold onto the one last bit of time she has with her family, is so tragic but so beautiful. You can see the love between this strong woman and her husband and children and grandchildren. She has fought hard and doesn't want to give up. Her family doesn't want to give her up.
Then, I see a picture of a little girl who is battling cancer, who has had very little chance to live life--yet, enjoys every moment she feels well enough to get out of bed. A pediatrician told me once that he loves treating children because they "want to live." They love life. They focus on the positive, and yearn to just "live." They don't "give up."
Then, I have another friend who has been in a coma this week, and so many people are praying for him to get better. So many messages posted to him telling him to "Fight" and "Be Strong" and "Don't Give Up." I'm not sure what has occurred, but just know his illness was very unexpected. He's not giving up, I guarantee it.
Then, there is the war hero, who stopped on the side of the road to help a motorist, and was hit by a passing semi and killed. He survived a war, but lost his life assisting another on a highway. How tragic. He never gave up his calling to help others. Goodness, what a wonderful person.
How are there people fighting to live this precious life we are given and others just take it for granted? I admit that sometimes I feel guilty about it. Why is my child still here when she has mocked the idea of death? I sometimes feel like my daughter is a cat with 9 lives and she is on her 12th. She's dodged so many close calls, yet she continues to follow the wrong direction, which will ultimately cause her death if she continues to do so. I've talked to my husband about this a lot in the last couple of years, but more so in the last two months. I often tell him that I expect her death--that it would not shock me...but are you every really truly prepared to lose or "give up" someone you love?
When my dad was dying of cancer, I can remember the day he died like it was yesterday. I can remember a sense of relief that his pain was no more--yet to this day, I still find moments that I cannot believe he is gone. I feel like with her addiction, it too is a kind of cancer and that her death would be her only way of ever truly finding peace from this horrible devil disease. I am certainly not comparing cancer to addiction or suggesting that addicts deserve the same compassion. I do believe her choices lead her to the consequences, whereas a cancer patient does not get that option. I do though, feel at times, I am waiting for her to die, just as I did with him. Waiting for the dreadful time to come.
I was at Walmart yesterday and ran into an old friend who said to me, "Steph, Don't give up on her. Don't give up." I told my son later that day, that when people say that to me, sometimes I feel defensive. I know it's a cheer leading method, or a positive way to say "Keep the Faith" but sometimes I interpret it as I haven't done enough to try to help her. I feel like they don't understand all I have done...all we have done...how many times we haven't given up...or how many times we have pulled her from the depths of hell. I know that he meant well by it, but it's bugged me for the last 24 hours because it has caused me to think.
Have I given up? Have I thrown in the towel? Sometimes I feel like I have. If my hopes and dreams and wants and faith, didn't help get her well---- then surely my doubts, lack of hope, sadness and distance, aren't pushing her over the edge. Right? Hmmm...I don't know. Maybe "giving up" is more for myself to be able to function and less about my feelings for her. Maybe if I feel I've "given up", then I don't have to be "let down."
Right now she is battling and she is very sick. A year ago, I would have ran to her rescue. Tonight, I have not. I've talked to her. I've tried to be supportive. I've cried at home, but I've stayed distant. My husband said "It doesn't mean you do not love her. It just means she has to do this herself this time. You cannot rescue her. It has never worked before." He is right. It hasn't worked before...but is she lying awake sick and in pain and thinking I have given up?
"Giving up" to me means letting go of what you cannot hold onto or cannot change. I guess I'm not giving up. I'm letting go--because I cannot change the outcome. Tonight I am just praying for a miracle. Praying that something inside her will tell her to not give up, and that she will finally believe in herself as much as I have believed in her in the past. Currently, I just have a big padding around my heart, scared to let her tear at the layers again. Scared to allow myself to get wrapped up into "fixing her." So no, I'm not giving up on you, A. I'm standing back and praying that you rise to your feet. Praying that you fight for life. Praying that you see the beauty around you that you have left on this earth. Praying you take advantage of these multiple chances God has given you that others have not been given. FIGHT. DO. NOT. GIVE. UP.
I have one friend who is losing her mom to cancer. Seeing the pictures of her mom fighting to hold onto the one last bit of time she has with her family, is so tragic but so beautiful. You can see the love between this strong woman and her husband and children and grandchildren. She has fought hard and doesn't want to give up. Her family doesn't want to give her up.
Then, I see a picture of a little girl who is battling cancer, who has had very little chance to live life--yet, enjoys every moment she feels well enough to get out of bed. A pediatrician told me once that he loves treating children because they "want to live." They love life. They focus on the positive, and yearn to just "live." They don't "give up."
Then, I have another friend who has been in a coma this week, and so many people are praying for him to get better. So many messages posted to him telling him to "Fight" and "Be Strong" and "Don't Give Up." I'm not sure what has occurred, but just know his illness was very unexpected. He's not giving up, I guarantee it.
Then, there is the war hero, who stopped on the side of the road to help a motorist, and was hit by a passing semi and killed. He survived a war, but lost his life assisting another on a highway. How tragic. He never gave up his calling to help others. Goodness, what a wonderful person.
How are there people fighting to live this precious life we are given and others just take it for granted? I admit that sometimes I feel guilty about it. Why is my child still here when she has mocked the idea of death? I sometimes feel like my daughter is a cat with 9 lives and she is on her 12th. She's dodged so many close calls, yet she continues to follow the wrong direction, which will ultimately cause her death if she continues to do so. I've talked to my husband about this a lot in the last couple of years, but more so in the last two months. I often tell him that I expect her death--that it would not shock me...but are you every really truly prepared to lose or "give up" someone you love?
When my dad was dying of cancer, I can remember the day he died like it was yesterday. I can remember a sense of relief that his pain was no more--yet to this day, I still find moments that I cannot believe he is gone. I feel like with her addiction, it too is a kind of cancer and that her death would be her only way of ever truly finding peace from this horrible devil disease. I am certainly not comparing cancer to addiction or suggesting that addicts deserve the same compassion. I do believe her choices lead her to the consequences, whereas a cancer patient does not get that option. I do though, feel at times, I am waiting for her to die, just as I did with him. Waiting for the dreadful time to come.
I was at Walmart yesterday and ran into an old friend who said to me, "Steph, Don't give up on her. Don't give up." I told my son later that day, that when people say that to me, sometimes I feel defensive. I know it's a cheer leading method, or a positive way to say "Keep the Faith" but sometimes I interpret it as I haven't done enough to try to help her. I feel like they don't understand all I have done...all we have done...how many times we haven't given up...or how many times we have pulled her from the depths of hell. I know that he meant well by it, but it's bugged me for the last 24 hours because it has caused me to think.
Have I given up? Have I thrown in the towel? Sometimes I feel like I have. If my hopes and dreams and wants and faith, didn't help get her well---- then surely my doubts, lack of hope, sadness and distance, aren't pushing her over the edge. Right? Hmmm...I don't know. Maybe "giving up" is more for myself to be able to function and less about my feelings for her. Maybe if I feel I've "given up", then I don't have to be "let down."
Right now she is battling and she is very sick. A year ago, I would have ran to her rescue. Tonight, I have not. I've talked to her. I've tried to be supportive. I've cried at home, but I've stayed distant. My husband said "It doesn't mean you do not love her. It just means she has to do this herself this time. You cannot rescue her. It has never worked before." He is right. It hasn't worked before...but is she lying awake sick and in pain and thinking I have given up?
"Giving up" to me means letting go of what you cannot hold onto or cannot change. I guess I'm not giving up. I'm letting go--because I cannot change the outcome. Tonight I am just praying for a miracle. Praying that something inside her will tell her to not give up, and that she will finally believe in herself as much as I have believed in her in the past. Currently, I just have a big padding around my heart, scared to let her tear at the layers again. Scared to allow myself to get wrapped up into "fixing her." So no, I'm not giving up on you, A. I'm standing back and praying that you rise to your feet. Praying that you fight for life. Praying that you see the beauty around you that you have left on this earth. Praying you take advantage of these multiple chances God has given you that others have not been given. FIGHT. DO. NOT. GIVE. UP.
Tuesday, February 16, 2016
Absolute and Utter Anger
Today I am pissed. Grumpy. Fed up. Agitated. Mortified. Humiliated. Frustrated. Aggravated. You name it, I feel it.
I'm going on a about a 6 week span now of waiting for her to "wake up" and "get help" and it just isn't happening. She has refused any and all offers of help. Due to her actions and her choices--she has placed immense stress on my marriage, my other children, my job and my overall happiness. I'm sick of it.
I know you are probably thinking, "Quit allowing it to happen." Well--if it were just that easy. In my case, there are many other factors that are effected by her negative choices. Others that suffer the consequences of her actions. It's not as easy as just me. It's others who now depend on me because of her selfishness and addiction.
I wonder, "Does she even care?" I'm sure that my "real" daughter would not inflict agony on me, her brother, her Nina, or others who I KNOW she loves---but yet, she continues to do it. She continues to leave me in a bind of stress that makes me want to rip her head off. Literally. Seriously. I mean it. Rip it straight off.
I have so many supportive friends and also friends of hers, who are recovering addicts who have given me a plethora of advice which I appreciate. They all tell me to let her "hit rock bottom." They say she's almost there. Honestly, it feels like I am tied to her rock that is hitting bottom.
How does a person, a mother, in particular, stand by and continuously wait for their child to hit "rock bottom". I'll tell you how--you get fed the heck up. You get to a point that you feel you cannot do anything more to fix the situation and you are at your last resort. I've cried, I've begged, I've pleaded, I've driven all over the USA to rehabs, I've visited rehabs, I've clapped and applauded at numerous rehab graduations. I've replaced all the clothes her slug friends have stolen or she has sold NUMEROUS times. I've turned on the cell phone, shut off the cell phone, turned it back on--and tonight, after 45 minutes of frustration with ATT, I can't even shut the thing off completely and cancel it without paying for it for another 12 months. WHAT THE HECK? CAN I GET A BREAK?
At what point does an addict feel any sort of responsibility? At what point do they feel any sort of remorse? I know that experts say that "guilt and shame" is the reason addicts behave the way they do, but sheesh---shouldn't they feel guilt and shame for making our lives a living hell? I'll feel guilt for writing this blog later, because I'm a human being. Do drugs make people just absolutely heartless? Yes, they do. They absolutely do.
I've read through my blogs from last year and sometimes I sounded so positive and "in the know" and other times I read my old posts and feel like I didn't even write them. I find myself trying to take my own advice. I know, I know...I need to go to meetings. Al-Anon and stuff like that. Well, maybe I don't want to. Maybe I don't have time to go to another damn thing each week because I'm too busy picking up her slack. True story. That is a fact. I don't have time to breathe. The only reason I'm taking the time to write this is because my husband swears it puts me in a better mood to vent by writing.
I find myself looking over my shoulder all the time, wondering if some creep is going to steal my purse, or car, or whatever else. I find myself setting my alarm system on my house 24/7 because I don't like the kind of people she has affiliated herself. I find myself not trusting any stranger I run into because of her actions. It's making me so angry that she has put me in this position to feel this way about her. What gives others the right to invade your happiness so severely?
I'm sick of lies. I'm sick of false promises. I'm sick of excuses. I'm sick of her new friends. I'm sick of it all. I want my daughter back, but at this point--I don't think she's coming back. I feel she is gone and I've now got nothing but old photos to remind me of the daughter I once had. I'm angry to the point I'm ready to take them down. I don't even want to look at them. They make me angry too.
So...I do feel better. I needed to vent. I'm hoping I will get some good sleep tonight and tomorrow will be a better day. If she's reading this, I hope she knows that her time is running out. I'm at my limit. I will tolerate no more.
Friday, February 12, 2016
To Blog or Not to Blog...That is the Question
It's been almost two years since I posted on this blog. Due to my rants and ramblings on Facebook, it sort of brought my blog back to the surface. Tonight, I have had five messages from people from very close friends to people I don't know, that have reached out to me to write again. So--after kicking it around in my head, I decided "why not."
I quit posting because I became exhausted with the topic of addiction and my daughter's addiction. It completely consumed my life. I reached a point that I felt nothing I could ever do in the legal world would help; I felt that nothing I did in her world would help; and that basically, nothing I was doing was helping remedy her addiction or anyone else's. I now know that isn't true.
To recap the last two years, we have been through a lot.
I went through a period of time from August 2014 until January 2015 that I barely spoke to and rarely saw my daughter. January 2015, I got a call in the middle of the night that she needed my help. The call was from a drug dealer, actually. He told me where she was and that she needed me. I told my husband and we agreed I needed to go get her. This could be the moment. The life changing event--the time she finally got sick and tired of being sick and tired.
The "caller" told me she was at a campground in a very scary place. My husband said I could not go alone and we had a 3 year old in bed, so I wanted him to stay home with him. I felt this was my duty, since she was my daughter and although he has been as good to her as his own, I still feel that her addiction has burdened him in so many ways. We talked about who could go with us. We talked about calling the police. We were afraid that we would lose the chance to get her if the police were with me, so we scrapped that idea and I called the meanest person I know--my ex husband. I hadn't seen the man in 7 years. He is an Army Veteran, who served 4 times overseas. He literally is the only person I have ever known that doesn't fear death. As much as the two of us could not stand each other, he did love my children. I knew he would go with me and he did. I will never forget sitting in my car in the pitch black night and pulling into the campground and there sat the trailer we knew she was staying. I started to get out of the car with him and he quickly told me to get back in the car and lock the door. He disappeared into the dark. A few minutes later, he came out with my daughter. She was sick. She was miserable. She was at rock bottom...so I thought. We took her to the hospital. She agreed to go back into treatment.
March 2015 she was released from inpatient for medical reasons. I'm not going to go into particulars because although I have pretty much thrown my family into the public eye, there are some parts of my life that I will always withhold from this blog to protect the truly innocent.
In the time my daughter had been in and out of treatment over the course of the last almost 4 years, she has missed her brother's high school graduation; almost every Christmas since 2011; every Thanksgiving since 2010; her brother's entire college football career except for a few games this past season--his Senior season; She has missed every Mother's Day; every Father's Day and the list goes on and on. This year felt different. She made it to Easter two years in a row. She was around for her birthday in April. She made it to a 3 year old's birthday party. She made it to Mother's Day. She made it to Father's Day...but then there started to be a shift. I could tell she was battling to stay afloat. She started to slide, so the uncertainty began again. 4th of July was sketchy. She showed up for two of my son's football games, one time it went well, one game it was miserable. She went missing for 3 days and was all over the news. That was humiliating for all of us and her absence has never been explained. Then, she missed his Senior Day. She did show up for his college graduation though, which was a nice surprise to him. She was absent for Thanksgiving; Christmas was good at my mother in law's but Christmas Eve we were on pins and needles...and then it started sliding more and more. Was it the Christmas presents? The ability to sell or return gifts for money? What was the breaking point? Tonight as I write, I feel she is quite possibly in the darkest hole of her addiction she has ever been. I have no idea where she is living, who she is with or how she is supporting herself, but she would tell you she is fine. She would tell you she doesn't need help. She would tell you that we are all wrong. Chances are if you are one of her good friends who has tried to help her, she may not even answer you at all. I know her brother sent her one of the most heart wrenching messages 3 weeks ago and never received a response. She was still on our phone plan, although I had told her I was shutting it off if she didn't go into treatment. I watched the usage for 3 weeks and saw nothing but bad connections. Reconnection's. So...I disconnected. Now, there is no way for me to stalk her phone line or see if she is okay. It's a double edged sword. It gave me peace in one way and nightmares in another. She will be 26 in April. It's time to get her own phone line. I'm not going to make it easier on her to make those connections. I had to shut it off to keep my own sanity.
It is so hard to know when to draw the line in the sand. It's so hard to lie awake at night and wonder where she is, who she is with, if she is safe and if and when the officer will show up at my house to tell me she is dead. I have refused to allow her addiction to run my life any more. I drew that line about a year or so ago when I quit blogging. I now know that no matter how bad I want it for her, if she doesn't want it herself--it will never happen. I've come to grips with the reality that although I would like to blame every sketchy person in her life for her relapses, that they probably have a parent out there who is blaming my daughter for the demise of their child.
My only hope by doing this blog was that even one person could be helped, or one family feel some comfort that they aren't alone. I'm only one mother, only one person and I'm very small against the battle of addiction. If though, by chance, my stories can help someone else, then it is worth it to me.
So here we go again. I may blog tomorrow. I may blog two weeks from now. I'm not sure but your feedback has been heard and duly noted and I appreciate all of you who have reached out to me. I can promise you that I am praying for your loved ones as much as you have been praying for mine.
I quit posting because I became exhausted with the topic of addiction and my daughter's addiction. It completely consumed my life. I reached a point that I felt nothing I could ever do in the legal world would help; I felt that nothing I did in her world would help; and that basically, nothing I was doing was helping remedy her addiction or anyone else's. I now know that isn't true.
To recap the last two years, we have been through a lot.
I went through a period of time from August 2014 until January 2015 that I barely spoke to and rarely saw my daughter. January 2015, I got a call in the middle of the night that she needed my help. The call was from a drug dealer, actually. He told me where she was and that she needed me. I told my husband and we agreed I needed to go get her. This could be the moment. The life changing event--the time she finally got sick and tired of being sick and tired.
The "caller" told me she was at a campground in a very scary place. My husband said I could not go alone and we had a 3 year old in bed, so I wanted him to stay home with him. I felt this was my duty, since she was my daughter and although he has been as good to her as his own, I still feel that her addiction has burdened him in so many ways. We talked about who could go with us. We talked about calling the police. We were afraid that we would lose the chance to get her if the police were with me, so we scrapped that idea and I called the meanest person I know--my ex husband. I hadn't seen the man in 7 years. He is an Army Veteran, who served 4 times overseas. He literally is the only person I have ever known that doesn't fear death. As much as the two of us could not stand each other, he did love my children. I knew he would go with me and he did. I will never forget sitting in my car in the pitch black night and pulling into the campground and there sat the trailer we knew she was staying. I started to get out of the car with him and he quickly told me to get back in the car and lock the door. He disappeared into the dark. A few minutes later, he came out with my daughter. She was sick. She was miserable. She was at rock bottom...so I thought. We took her to the hospital. She agreed to go back into treatment.
March 2015 she was released from inpatient for medical reasons. I'm not going to go into particulars because although I have pretty much thrown my family into the public eye, there are some parts of my life that I will always withhold from this blog to protect the truly innocent.
In the time my daughter had been in and out of treatment over the course of the last almost 4 years, she has missed her brother's high school graduation; almost every Christmas since 2011; every Thanksgiving since 2010; her brother's entire college football career except for a few games this past season--his Senior season; She has missed every Mother's Day; every Father's Day and the list goes on and on. This year felt different. She made it to Easter two years in a row. She was around for her birthday in April. She made it to a 3 year old's birthday party. She made it to Mother's Day. She made it to Father's Day...but then there started to be a shift. I could tell she was battling to stay afloat. She started to slide, so the uncertainty began again. 4th of July was sketchy. She showed up for two of my son's football games, one time it went well, one game it was miserable. She went missing for 3 days and was all over the news. That was humiliating for all of us and her absence has never been explained. Then, she missed his Senior Day. She did show up for his college graduation though, which was a nice surprise to him. She was absent for Thanksgiving; Christmas was good at my mother in law's but Christmas Eve we were on pins and needles...and then it started sliding more and more. Was it the Christmas presents? The ability to sell or return gifts for money? What was the breaking point? Tonight as I write, I feel she is quite possibly in the darkest hole of her addiction she has ever been. I have no idea where she is living, who she is with or how she is supporting herself, but she would tell you she is fine. She would tell you she doesn't need help. She would tell you that we are all wrong. Chances are if you are one of her good friends who has tried to help her, she may not even answer you at all. I know her brother sent her one of the most heart wrenching messages 3 weeks ago and never received a response. She was still on our phone plan, although I had told her I was shutting it off if she didn't go into treatment. I watched the usage for 3 weeks and saw nothing but bad connections. Reconnection's. So...I disconnected. Now, there is no way for me to stalk her phone line or see if she is okay. It's a double edged sword. It gave me peace in one way and nightmares in another. She will be 26 in April. It's time to get her own phone line. I'm not going to make it easier on her to make those connections. I had to shut it off to keep my own sanity.
It is so hard to know when to draw the line in the sand. It's so hard to lie awake at night and wonder where she is, who she is with, if she is safe and if and when the officer will show up at my house to tell me she is dead. I have refused to allow her addiction to run my life any more. I drew that line about a year or so ago when I quit blogging. I now know that no matter how bad I want it for her, if she doesn't want it herself--it will never happen. I've come to grips with the reality that although I would like to blame every sketchy person in her life for her relapses, that they probably have a parent out there who is blaming my daughter for the demise of their child.
My only hope by doing this blog was that even one person could be helped, or one family feel some comfort that they aren't alone. I'm only one mother, only one person and I'm very small against the battle of addiction. If though, by chance, my stories can help someone else, then it is worth it to me.
So here we go again. I may blog tomorrow. I may blog two weeks from now. I'm not sure but your feedback has been heard and duly noted and I appreciate all of you who have reached out to me. I can promise you that I am praying for your loved ones as much as you have been praying for mine.
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