It's Mother's Day today. Last night I sat down at my computer and tried to find fitting words for the occasion, yet none came to me. This morning I found out why: this letter (below) was waiting and this beautiful mother has found the words to fully encompass what it means to be the loving mother of an adult addict. Thank you!
At the age of 18, I put my son out of my home for using drugs. I thought he would get tired of shuffling from "friend" to "friend", but he lived on the streets for the next 13 years. During this time he would break into my house and steal from me, live in my garage on the dirt floor, and continue using. Multiple times he would be arrested and end up back in jail. I wouldn't feed
him, give him money, buy anything for him, pay for anything for him, or even allow him in my house. If his two brothers wanted to see him, they had to do it elsewhere.
In 2010 he broke into my house and stole a few checks from his brother's checkbook, along with my computer and a few other things. He ended up going to prison for roughly a year. There he decided to go through a rehab program and was given an early release.
In 2011, after being clean for over a year, I allowed him to move back home. It was just me now. His brothers are both grown with families of their own. My son is one of the brightest, most likable people you will ever meet...when he's clean. He and I had planned on moving him across the country to be with his older brother and start a new life there. That plan was squashed when he found out that he was
going to be a father.
His baby's mother moved several hours' drive away, prior to his daughter being born. But in March 2013 he was there and watched his daughter come into this world. He held her, fed her, bathed her, loves her. Three to four weeks ago, he and his baby's mother ended their engagement...and he started using again.
Not only did he start using, he started "cooking", and in my house. He started manufacturing meth and shooting heroin. He is currently in jail for disorderly conduct, and I had to get an eviction notice on him. When he gets out and comes to get his things, I will have a no
trespass order filed against him.
I love my son with all my heart, and the only thing I feel that I can do to help him is to put him in jail. At least he's not going to use or hurt anyone there. Maybe he'll hate me for the rest of
his life, but at least he'll be alive to have that option. I still cry every day, but it's the only thing I know to do. He refuses to get the help he
needs on his own, and I have to do something.