… to go through life thinking you are a good parent, providing a fulfilling, nurtured, and adventurous life only to find out that you suck as a parent and your child hates her life so much she would rather shoot up until she is obliterated than face her reality.
…like riding a roller coaster, with no safety bar, safety net or seat belt. You spend your days of active addiction holding on so tight, when the brakes suddenly come on and it screeches to a halt your arms and hands are crippled. By the time you finally are able to flex and straighten them out the ride takes off again.
…thinking that your new role in life is to fight the healthcare systems views, beliefs and general asshole-ness toward substance abuse.
…to sit in traffic and think about how you used to daydream winning a million dollars, vacations on white sandy beaches, being able to make pudding from scratch with the ease of The Pioneer Woman, and now you sit and traffic daydreaming about finding every heroin dealer so you can shoot them in the face. Twice.
…emotional, draining, and sad.
…rewarding when you see that addict deep in recovery, being an active member of society, caring for others, and seeking forgiveness.
…depressing when you spent a million and two dollars to get into a movie only to watch your addict nod off repeatedly.
… to dread holidays, birthdays, or any day which means worrying about whether your addict can pull her shit together long enough so her 90-year old great grandmother doesn’t see her high.
…loving holidays, birthdays, or any day which your addict pulled her shit together and no one had to see her high.
…paving your addict’s way to hell with white key-tags.
…giving up hopes of your addicted child being a lawyer or a doctor but feeling grateful that the doctor kept her alive and the lawyer kept her out of jail.
…to offer to trade your life for hers, pray that her pain becomes yours, is to make deals with the devil if it means she survives.
…like watching a runaway train barrel down a track heading straight for you with no chance of survival.
…taking one day at a time. One hour and one minute and one second at a time.
…knowing that you loving them is the only guarantee there is. There is no guarantee she will stay clean. Or wants to be clean, or won’t go to jail, or relapse or die.
…feeling overwhelming guilt for feeling relief when she is locked up, anxiety when she is on her own, and anger for being in that situation anyway.
….normal to have your 14-year old son know the difference between heroin high, and other drug high. And have him be right when he calls it.
….knowing that she has the ability to be successful and the hope that someday she will see her own self-worth, and be willing to work at saving her own life. And praying that it happens before you have nothing left to give.
…accepting that love is not enough but it’s all you have.