To Love or not to Love

Has anyone mastered this question? Anyone? Sure, there is “relationship love”, information that tells you to communicate, find your partner’s love language, listen… you want to see them happy, are willing to do what it takes to relieve the burden; you respect them. This “choice” love isn’t easy. It waivers, and if it’s worth it to you, you work at it. You don’t give up, (provided certain deal breakers don’t happen).

But what about parent/child love? There’s a monumental difference right from the beginning… this little human is yours, innocent and helpless. It’s YOUR job to protect him. YOUR job to keep him safe. The love part? It’s just there. Never questioned, not something you have to “work” at. You love that child the moment you know they’re a part of you. Unwavering, unconditional, never experienced before, LOVE.

The question then becomes, what is “your” definition of love? How have you learned to show it?

Providing? Yes. Guiding? Sure. Wanting to see that child happy? Absolutely.

But, wait a minute, therein lies the problem; at least for me. My “need” to see my son happy, caused my love-lines to cross. I measured his happiness with the word “yes”. I was the mother who would run myself ragged every weekend picking up friends, planning fun trips, asking myself, why am I the only parent who seems to do this ALL the time? Over-spending so he could always have. My life literally revolved around seeing him smile. We all do this in some way, sure, but some of us lose sight of the “real world” teaching we must provide. I mean let’s face it, how many times have you failed at something? Been told no? Had to give up something you really wanted, to do the right, adult thing? THAT’s reality.

Letting your child sit in a negative emotion, manage it, and see that ‘this too shall pass’ is the best thing you could do for them. I just watched Remember the Titans, and in the words of Denzel, “You’re not doing these boys any favors by coddling them, you are crippling them.”

That, my friends, is advice I wish I would’ve heard and digested 20 years ago ❤️

Hurry Up and Wait

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

Here We Go Again

Below is a “relapse” video sent from my son while in Las Vegas. He had a few months in treatment there and sounded wonderful during our last conversation, talking about how great it feels to be “free of that” and how he can’t wait to start his sober life. I got off the phone filled with renewed hope that THIS time, things would be different. That night before bed, I thought about all the things he would still do with his life. I pictured him helping others as the smart, loving son I’ve always known …. about 8 hours before this video was taken.

“I Asked My Son to Write a Note”

I asked my son to write a note before he up and leaves
the next safe place called rehab, the next 3-day reprieve
I told him he could make it small, a folded little square
I said “Will you please write this down and keep it safe somewhere?”
I said to write my name and his, my number clear to see
Make sure to write “Please call my mom if you have just found me.”
Make more than one, make several, for I am asking you
to fold them up and tuck them in your shirt, your pants, your shoe –
To you this is hell on earth that I can’t stand to see
But waiting for the calls to STOP is what’s been plaguing me.
So please, I beg, just write the note so I can at least know
that when they find your body in the park, bench, ditch or snow
when this stranger finds you huddled up and all alone
He’ll see an addict lying there, pathetic, with no home.
But when he looks and finds that note, I hope it helps him see
You’re more than that to someone else, MUCH more than that to me.

For, My Dylan – With My Love Always, Mom

My Son Might Die Today

That’s the thought I carry with me daily.

So when a co-worker notices I’m not quite as “smiley” or my husband comments “you seem a little quiet today”, THAT’s the thought that sits on my tongue, heavy, wanting me to let it out in a shrill SCREAM in their direction.

But, like most “mama’s of addict children”, fear won’t let me.

You know, the fear of the lurking emotion just beneath the surface that we all have? What will happen if I let it out? I mean who in the world is equipped to hear that from ANYone? “My son might die today.” Think about that. No one knows what to say when that bomb is dropped on them. So, to spare them the awkward moment, and to spare myself the jaw-dropped face staring back at me if I WERE to explain what’s been happening in the reality of my life, I usually smile and mutter some excuse like, “hmm, I must be tired.”

The reality is, the parent of an addict faces this struggle every single day. The phrase “you’re only as happy as your saddest child” means we’ll be walking in hell right along with them. Maybe not physically there, (for some of us), but emotionally, our minds are at a constant tug of war between helping and worrying; what we want to do and what we need to do; Anger and forgiveness; Blame and regret; Guilt and Love; Right and wrong.

It. Is. Hell.

That’s why we need each other.