Addiction

I was talking to a friend last night whose son, like mine, struggles with addiction. Her son recently relapsed and we were discussing how regardless the number of times you've lived through the relapse, it's still just as painful when it happens again. I equate it to being the parent of a child who suffers from cancer, then the cancer goes into remission only to re-appear and this time it's come with a bit more aggression than the last. How could it be any less painful the second, or third, or "I've lost count" time it happens? Granted, it doesn't have the same shock value as when you first learn the disease exists but all of the other emotions are the same. My heart goes out to my friend. I understand her pain.

I have been fortunate in that my son has now been sober or "in remission" for almost two years. I think this is the longest stretch since he was in his early teens and he's now twenty five years old. When I look back at some of the things I've written over the years I'm reminded of how devastating the disease of addiction is. I'm amazed that a family can survive the chaos that comes along with it.

It's important to remember that no matter how great our pain, it can't hold a candle to the pain of the addict. We tend to forget that when we get caught up in our own pain and anger. I don't consider myself an angry person (I'm a Libra, remember? I'm a lover not a fighter!) but I can't even begin to describe how angry I've been at times in my life at the disease of addiction. Somehow, as the Mom though, I've always been able to hold compassion in my heart for the addict.

We MUST remember that the addict is a victim too. I always cringe when I hear someone say that addiction is a disease of choice. This person has obviously never lived it. Perhaps it was a choice the very first time or maybe the second time my son decided to try drugs. Mind you, this was the choice of a very young teen, and we all know what sound choices they make, but once heroin came into the picture "choice" was removed from the equation. The addict craves drugs like you and I crave air - there is no choice there.

Please keep compassion in your heart for the addict and remember that whether in remission or not, it's a life long battle they must endure.

I'd like to share something with you that I wrote for my son a while ago -

The boy asked the moon, "Why have you been so long in rising for me?" To which the moon said, "I will NOT enable your impatient soul! I will reveal the secrets hidden in my glow only when I know you are ready to accept them."
He fears he will have to search long and hard when the moon asks, "Why not abandon me and follow the sun as you have so many times before?" but his answer comes effortlessly -
"I know many choose the sun as I have in the past but I desire a better way. I have become all too familiar with the way it lures me to it's light time and time again. Continually enticing me with it's warmth. Wrapping me tight, each time tighter in it's rays, all the while it's true intent to burn me. I am no longer interested in the false promises of the sun. I understand now that it shines so brightly only to illuminate my pain."
"You've got my attention," replied the moon. "What is it that you ask of my rising?"
"I only ask for a chance. Your light reveals all the life which would otherwise remain hidden in the darkness. It is that life hidden in my darkness which I desire. I long to trust in my light the way so many trust in yours so that I will no longer need to seek it elsewhere."
The moon cautioned, "But the sun's lure is very powerful. It will continue to call for you."
"I know," replied the boy.
"I can never offer you what the sun has brought to you all of these years. I can only offer you your truth."
"That is all I've ever wanted. I will ask nothing more of you."
The moon paused for what seemed like an eternity to the boy, but in time responded, "Very well my friend, I will go at my OWN pace, but if you are patient, I will rise for you. I promise, I WILL rise for you."
The boy bowed his head to the moon in a gesture of gratitude as he walked away.
Now, he no longer fears the nightfall, for it is filled with far too much hope.
And his soul waits patiently...

xo,
Carrie