May 21, 2012
Two weeks ago I did the unthinkable. I told my beloved son that he had to leave my home. The same son that I held in my arms for the first time 28 years ago who gave new meaning to my life, whom I felt such love for I felt my heart would burst. And now, I’m telling that same son that he has to leave, knowing that he has no place to go, no money, no job. It was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I found a meth lab in my son’s car. When I found it, all of the missing puzzle pieces started to fall into place. The open pocketknife I found in our bathroom, and the next day in our garage. The many times I had tried to call him or talk to him only to be told he was sleeping in the middle of the afternoon. The fact that he’s been jobless for over a year and was being supported by his girlfriend. His weight loss, the grayish color to his skin, the dark circles under his eyes. When I think about all of these warning signs, I wonder how I could have been so blind. How could my denial be so strong? After all, I go to Alanon and know the reality of relapses. Two years ago he was in jail in Texas for possession, and swore when he got out that he would never use again. The letters that he wrote from jail were full of remorse and a renewed faith in God. I so wanted to believe that he had finally hit bottom, and that he would never go back.
I guess God knew that I would need to be slapped in the face with evidence that was beyond dispute before I would believe that my son was using again. That’s what he gave me. For that, I am thankful. We offered my son detox and rehab and told him we would drive him the two hours to get there. He flatly refused and insisted all he needed was a job to get his life back on track. So he left. I hugged him, we both cried, and I watched him walk out the door, and my heart broke. My husband gave him $20 for food, which he promptly spent on a bottle of whiskey. He parked his car in front of our house a couple of days later and left a note saying that he had gone job-hunting with a friend. He came in later in the afternoon and got something to eat. At least for that one day, I knew he was ok and had food in his stomach. He told me was staying with a friend in a nearby town, so I felt better knowing he had a roof over his head. That lasted one night. He parked his car in front of our house again the next day and left another note saying he was job hunting and would be back later in the day to get his car. His car sat in front of our house for 3 days. I contacted one of the few friends he has who has a phone. The friend told me that my son had hooked up with his ex-girlfriend, who also uses, and that they were in her car. Saturday morning I found evidence in our shed that my son and his girlfriend had slept in our there, but they were gone by the time I found it. On Sunday, Mother’s Day, we awoke to find his girlfriend’s car sitting in our driveway, fully loaded with their belongings, with a sunshield in the front window and an inflated air mattress on top of the car. They were asleep inside. He stopped in when they woke up around noon to tell me happy mother’s day and promised he would come by to eat dinner at our get-together in a couple hours. He never came back. I haven’t seen or heard from him since.
It is agony to not know where he is, or even how to get in touch with him. If I allow my thoughts to take over, I could go insane. I eat, and I wonder if he’s eaten that day, I sleep and I wonder where he’s sleeping, I laugh and I wonder when he will find joy in his life.
I work in the school systems, and now that I am out of school until August I have lots of free time to think about all of this. I have a tendency to obsess, and that will be my downfall if I’m not careful. Right now, I’m praying a lot and finding comfort in the support of my husband, my daughters, and my Alanon group. I try to catch negative thoughts when they enter my mind and replace them with positive thoughts. God helps me with that. I think of my husband, who has been a saint through all of this mess, especially considering he is the step-dad. I think of my daughters who have beautiful hearts and souls and who I am so proud of. I remember my beautiful son, who also had a kind heart, before meth took over his thoughts and actions. I hold onto the person he was, and who I know he will be again, in God’s perfect timing. I will never give up hoping for his recovery. Meth is powerful, but my God is more powerful. In the Lord I put my trust.