Dylan’s most recent relapse ended up in East Los Angeles, CA. He had gone there for treatment after relapsing in Texas and left the detox after less than 24 hours. That started an agonizing 3 nights of fear for me, wondering if he were alive and if so, what was happening to him. He ended up in a hospital after being beat up. He called me (thank God) and said he was looking for treatment. When I get to tell him I love him it helps take the edge off my anxiety for a while.
He’s now in treatment there. The center had sent him back to the hospital for 3 days to get antibiotics for the cuts, scrapes and bruises he had covering his body from the beating. He had been knocked out and left in the sun for hours so the burn on his face and arms was apparent when he face-timed me from a Tech’s phone at the rehab. No words can describe what it feels like to see your son in that condition. What a mother pictures when they’re “out and about” is some of the most awful (which is why we give in to our anxious urge of need to know) … but to actually see the suffering – it’s indescribable.
Tears are flowing as I type this. My son is sick. My son is dying. The only thing that can help him is HIM. Nothing else. I’ve been trying for years to prove my love for him, for ME, in case the worst happens, but what is love really? Is it bringing him here, to my home, where all of this started? Is it flying to California just to hug him and say “I love you” face to face? Is it knowing when to let go because maybe, just maybe that’s the only chance he has at saving himself?
I would give my life for the guarantee my son would be happy the rest of his. But with addiction, there’s never a guarantee. It’s impossible to get one. So today, I sit and pray, meditate, exercise. ANYthing to quiet the vomit-inducing anxiety-ball that burns in my middle like fire. Having done this before, I am comforted knowing this WILL get better.
Stay Strong out there ~ Shelly
Mama in Pain 