My son did call me today and we did meet. It was nothing special and we did not have the time to do anything much but argue. He wanted money from me to get his guitar out of the pawnshop. He was not satisfied with the gifts I gave. He was not touched by my gesture of backing him his favourite cake.
We did not hug. We did not kiss each other hello or good bye. We never exchanged any comments containing the words "love", such as "I love you". We did not share anything nice. It hurt. I heard a lot from him I did not want to hear. In the end, as I was giving him a lift, he got out of my car while I was still in the road, he slammed the door with incredible force and anger and then he gave me the middle finger while walking away. That will remain my memory now for quite some time.
Last year my son turned 18 and he was using a lot of drugs, treating me and his sisters very aggressively, stealing from me, partaking in illegal activities in my home. Yet we managed some "normal" times. I did not make a great celebration of his momentous 18 birthday. In fact I did not even buy him a gift. I did take him out for dinner with his sisters. I was very sad and frustrated during the time, now, however, I am mortified how much worse things are after a year's time. Each year I keep feeling this and I am so terrified what will be in another year's time.
I seem to have lost my strength and I no longer believe that this is all due to the "evils" of drugs. It is because of me. I have failed him. I could not give him what he needed, I could not protect him from the emotional pain his father enforced on him. I could not provide a nicer environment and a larger support network to somehow compensate for the lack of fatherly love. I did not push getting help in the very days because I was arrogant or naive enough to believe that my love will cure all. I enabled him too long when his behaviour did finally become uncontrollable. I made him homeless which is where he met these people who are now his core support system who are encouraging drink and drugs. Today after feeling so alone and so hurt, I realise....I have no one to blame but myself and I have let my baby down.
I am a blubbering wreck at the moment and I do not think I can take this much longer. At this moment in time I feel like I wish someone could perform a lobotomy on me because I am too weak to do any more, I can not bear any more pain and disappointment and worry. All I want is to be emotionless.
I adored that boy so much. I had such pride and faith and belief in him, as he did in me. I could not take enough photos of him to record every beautiful moment.
I am sorry this is not much of a post, it is not informative or interesting. It is a very sad post of a woman alone who has lost her son to drugs and through it all never stopped believing she will someday get that son back. I think the woman is losing the battle and is getting very tired.
I do not have the strength to get out all the photos, scan them and record my beautiful, fun, loving and spirited little boy growing up...but here are few of my memories I want to share.
All photos copy write of Susan Mansfield.