BROKEN

How do you fix a broken life? A broken family? A broken home? A broken house? A child's broken life? I have all those things that are broken and it would hard enough to find a solution to fix ONE, but to even contemplate fixing ALL these things, well no wonder I am depressed!

My broken house is something I need a lot of funds for which I do not have. I would also need help and assistance finding reliable workers, which has always proven near to impossible in the past. We are talking major and minor repairs which affect our everyday life and most people would not be able to live with for a long time without getting repairs done. For us, we have become accustomed to such an uncomfortable way of living that it is our norm and we have adapted, but that is not to say it doesn't cause us discomfort. Leaking pipes under the kitchen sink that causes stench in the adjoining cupboards. Rising damp in one part of the house and condensation in the rest causing mould and mildew on walls, clothes, cupboards, toys everything. Broken hot water taps in the bathroom and kitchen. Broken banister. Broken panes in windows. Broken doors. Broken door handles. Broken thermostat. Rotten and leaky roof over one room resulting in the worst damp and mould. Vent in bathroom that has mud seeping through from outside. Broken blinds that need to be rolled up and down by hand after climbing on top of the kitchen counter. Broken floor tiles and worn and even missing carpets. These are but a few. So we live in a house that is cold, damp, smelly in places, with clothes and other products that have been ruined my mould or smell of mould. We have to use cold water in the sinks and the shower can only be used if we heat the hot water much beforehand as our water heater/boiler is old, and so on and so on. I have asked the local government for a "healthy home loan" that is for helping to create and maintain safe and healthy living conditions, but I was refused on the basis that my needs are not high priority/high risk. Here are just a few images to give you an idea.

                                                   Damage from damp on windowsill.

          Carpet on the stairs was so damaged I removed it hoping to keep the stairs wooden, only             to discover the wood was in damaged itself and so it remains, awaiting new carpet.

          Mould on glass jars stored in kitchen cupboard, not the only thing covered in mould.

                                                              Rising damp damage.

                           Slugs and woodlice inhabit our bathroom (and living room too)!

                                                Dishwasher drain and sink drain leak.

                                              Mould on a coat stored in coat cupboard.

           Mould in living room and most of our other rooms, ranging from white to black mould.

                                                  Muddy "gunk" seeps in from outside.


As if that were not a lot to deal with, I have a broken family. People used to refer to a broken home as a home in which the parents had divorced. My children do have a broken home due to divorce, but not only are the parents divorced, but the father is virtually nonexistent as well as the grandparents. Our family is broken though for another more pressing reason. I have no parents, only one sibling who lives over 5,000 miles away and an elderly aunt who lives over 1,000 away (none of us being able to afford the travel to visit and my aunt is too old to travel), no partner....I only have my three children to call my family. So too my children only have me and each other to call family; however, my son has not been part of the family for three years. Though I am in constant touch with him, support him, visit him etc, my middle child has not seen or spoken to him in three years and so therefore there is never a time when we are all together. My youngest daughter has increased her contact with her brother and she often comes with me to visit him, They have also started contacting each other on their phones independently from me. Obviously with my two older children being estranged from each other, this causes many unpleasant and difficult situations. This also puts added pressure on me to constantly juggle my time and respect my daughter's feelings to not have contact with her brother. It too can create avoidable delays since I often have to ask my children to wait to be picked up from school for instance, because I have to take my son back home after attending an appointment with him. It would be much easier if I would be able to pick up my daughters from school with my son, then drop off my daughters at home and carry on to take my son home (his flat, our home and school are in three different towns and my son's appointments are all in my town and not his). Weekends, school breaks, summer, holidays especially Christmas are extremely difficult for me and very upsetting that we are never together as a complete family.

                                                    Christmas 2008, happier times.

                                                                        Easter 2009

Visiting my aunt 2009

Last summer holiday together 2012, tensions were strong.

Last Christmas together 2012

March 2013, last ever photo taken with all my children together, plus my half sister.

So you can see from above, a broken home, a broken house, a broken family. These are contributing factors to my broken life and of course my son's broken life. I need not go into detail about my broken life and the other contributing factors, such as losing my mother, ill health as a child, loneliness, bad marriage, unemployment and my unfortunate last relationship, since I have discussed them at length in previous posts. However, adding to the list my children not being together, my household in disrepair etc, it is all too much to consider. The feeling of being overwhelmed by ALL these issues as grown and grown and been there for so many years, I do not know what to do about it. A big factor of course is that I have to think everyday how my son went from those images above to this:

He is alone, excluded from society and his family, both his immediate family and his extended family. My ex husband has a virtually non existent relationship with his children, and yet on those rare occasions that he does make contact he expects his children to be complacent and unquestioning. He never hears what they are saying to him, especially when his son speaks to him. The grand parents are not much better. There was a time when they seemed to have a preference for their granddaughters, not having much time for their grandson. Now the opposite is true. They went for a few years of  having near to no contact with any of them. Now they make contact with their grandson, but not at all with their granddaughters. The last time they saw my youngest,she was 7, she is 11 now. They saw my middle child 2 years ago for 10 minutes in the streets of London when my daughter took her exchange partner to do some sightseeing. They now see my son every couple of months! However these visits must be due to some sense of duty or guilt, yet that does not seem to be equally felt for ALL the grandchildren. My son was visited by his grandparents this week and they said they will not be able to see him over the Christmas holidays, for reasons my son forgot but he thinks it was because they will be busy. His father phoned him last week and since my son was drunk at the time he answered the phone, which he would not normally do if he saw it was his father calling. His father said he can see him Dec. 20, but no suggestion about having his son over for Christmas, which he has never done since we separated 10 years ago and more importantly, never since my son was told to leave home. This will be the fourth Christmas my son is not part of the family, two Christmas he was homeless, and NEVER ONCE has his father or grandparents taken him in over Christmas. I have had him over for a Christmas meal, but with my daughter "hiding" in her room and therefore I can not have him stay a night or two. However, there are no reasons stopping the rest of the family from taking him in for a few days over Christmas and yet there has never even once been an invitation. My daughters have been included in "their" Christmases before but not a good many years. This makes them feel unwanted and more broken.

My son had me on the phone for 2 hours last night, from midnight to 2 a.m. because all of his brokenness came bursting out of him. One of the things that bothered him the most is being "cut off" from his family and not being allowed to come over when he feels like it regardless of the fact if his sister is home and for her to be a part of his visit. He misses his family, misses the "old days" and wants to be together again. I agree with him, it adds to my brokenness as well. I can understand how this happened, yet my son can not. I fear that if they ever agreed to sit down together to discuss their feelings my son would get angry and aggressive which would only fuel my daughter's reasons for keeping him out of her life. 

He has not continued in education, has been homeless, slept rough in the winter, been in hospital numerous times, has a criminal record, has had a drug problem since his mid teens, has no friends, no social interactions, no family interactions, believes his sister hates him, no work prospects, anxiety and depression, in temporary accommodation, living on benefits with no hopes or dreams for a future and does not want to exist. He had an emotionally abusive and also emotionally absent father. He is full of sadness, regret and painful memories. He is broken and appreciates that we all are, yet he wants me to help fix it and I want to fix it because that is my job as a parent, but I can not fix any of it.

Before hate, anger, damage and bitterness set in.

The photo above represents a time before drugs, before chaos, before self harm, before we broke completely. It does not represent a perfect family of well adjusted children, my son was being regularly insulted and shouted at by his father and his sadness was already there. My daughter was living with the consequences of her club feet and constant medical care as well as a father who shouted at her often. My baby girl was still innocent and pure cuteness. If I stepped in then, and made real changes maybe it would have prevented some of the terrible things these children have since lived through. We can not go back unfortunately, and of course I would like to look forward, but have got to the point where I can only see this existences continuing until it ends......

An Average Day Part II

My Son went to a concert the other evening, Again, quite a normal activity especially for a young man. Nothing too difficult to grasp, no consequences to digest afterwards except for maybe dealing with a hangover. This of course is not the case with my son. Going to a concert is hardly a normal activity for my son who on most days wont even go outside despite not having any food at home or being on his emergency electricity. He would rather go hungry and go without power than walk out to the shop to get food and utilities. Going to a concert in London and travelling on trains and the underground with many people to someone who has no social interactions besides with me, is anything but a normal activity.

There have been many concert tickets my son has bought in the past, some very expensive tickets at times, to some amazing one off gigs as well as some less exciting gigs, and he never attended because of anxiety. This time however, there was no anxiety and no over medicating himself to make him feel capable of going, no running late, no missing the train home, no losing anything....everything went smoothly. He went and enjoyed himself. He talked to some people and even exchanged numbers with another young guy who he chatted with. All was good. In fact I saw him after the gig because I told him if he managed to get a train and get to my town, I would meet him at the station and drive him home. I offered because I did not want him to miss the last train and have to stay up all night or sleep rough in London, as had happened before. This is what we did and he was clear headed, not wasted at all and very positive. Anyone would think that this was a really positive and encouraging step forward and that hopefully more positives steps can be made since this would surely motivate him to strive forward. Not at all! We are too deep in our dysfunction and abnormality.

The concert was a few days ago and my son has plummeted into more depression and anxiety again. One of the things triggering this was that the guy my son exchanged numbers with txted him and it caused so much anxiety in my son that he could not even read the txt and still has not. He has also felt much worse about his life, He said to me he enjoys going to London and going to gigs and has no problem, once out, to talk to people and be more "normal" yet he does not want to leave
his flat to go to the shops or talk to people. Phone calls, txts, messages, e-mails, facebook etc all cause him anxiety and makes him downright panic stricken.

The depression he felt was largely due to the fact that going out and doing something "normal" only highlighted how "abnormal" hid life is. When you are in a rare position to do something normal, after months or years of doing nothing, it makes you realise how sad your everyday existence really is. The sharp contrast is made evident and though you might be on a very short lived high, enjoying that rare moment, later when it is over you see how much you do not like your "normal" everyday life. How much you are missing out on, how much you have indeed missed as the years roll on as you are stuck inside your four walls and stuck inside with all the demons and fears that are inside your head.

It is easier to go far afield like to London, to step out of your space and jump into anonymity and enjoy yourself because you have escaped your reality. No one knows you, nothing reminds you of your problems, no one wants to ask how you are doing etc. When you are home you are reminded how lonely you are, how boring life is, how many "issues" you have. The only reason you have to go out is to walk to the shop for some food to feed your body, not ingredients to create delicious meals that you would enjoy. Other than that the only other reason to go out is to top up electricity so you can go home and watch TV. You have hours to spend without hearing a word from another living soul except for the noises you hear from outside of the "normal" people, chatting and laughing. You go out at night to the shops to avoid the daytime crowds, but then see young people with their friends or on their way out which depresses you because it reminds you that that is lacking from your own life and how you do not like how you live. Yes much easier to be at a gig with many people who are lost in the moment and everyone is enjoying themselves and everyone is more or less the same.

Ironically,  most "normal" young people would live their "normal" everyday lives pretty much sober, talking to friends and family and co workers. They would eat and enjoy their food. They would go out to the shops on the way home from work or school and maybe visit with people and make phone calls or txt and chat. Then every once in a while they will go to a gig and drink more or do drugs because it is a special occasion. My son took less drugs than on some "normal" days when he went to the concert so he could enjoy himself without putting himself of risk. On his "normal" days however, he will often do more drugs and drink more just so he does not have to think how unsatisfactory his life is, and escape his mind and thoughts and reality since he can not go to gigs several nights a week every week. Doing this does not really help of course, it makes it worse, but depression, anxiety, dissatisfaction with your life and feeling helpless have nothing to do with logic or rational thoughts.

To me watching my son and I both being in the same mindset at times and having the same low opinions of our lives is strange and it somehow annoys me when he takes drugs which will alter his mood or make him forget things that are "wrong". I get irritable when he suddenly becomes "happier" because I know it is artificially induced. The last time I pointed this out to my son he said that I sound jealous. I understand how he can interpret it this way, but it is because it is unfair that I have to endure it all without any help whether real or artificial. Also it takes the responsibility away of trying to solve the problem. Of course it is his "anti depressant" and I understand why he does it. Who would not want to escape such an uneventful existence?

After my son was at death's door, literally gurgling at that door , before he got pulled away from death, I promised him and more importantly I promised myself that I will find a way to make life worth living. I would show my son, through example of my own life, as well as helping him, that life can be happy and good and rewarding. I would find a way to make all of our lives worth living. Almost 3 months have past and I have found nothing and there has been no change and we are still in the darkness of mere existence. I asked my son recently if he could be anything in the world, what would he be. His answer broke my heart, just as it would any loving mother's heart who carried her child, gave birth to them and nurtured them. My son's answer was, " Nothing, because if I could be anything, I would rather choose not to exist, to have never existed",

This is what people need to know and understand why many people who are addicted to drugs are not dirty, undesirable lowlife junkies who do not deserve help or funding for that help. They are normal people like you and I, who have problems, problems they do not know how to fix or change and they are doing the only thing they can to diminish some of their pain. I am no different from my son except I do not have "mother's little helper" to get me through the day. We both deserve help and health and happiness as do my daughters. The only thing I wish for is that we all find it before it is too late and we can all be happy together and within ourselves once again!

An Average Day Part I

I took a shower today. To most people this is a normal daily activity that is not even given much thought to. To me it is a chore, something I can not be bothered to do, do not have the motivation for. I go for a very long time without a shower (I will not say just how long because there may be people that I know and come into contact with who read this and that is just too much information that I am not comfortable sharing with them.)  I do I feel slightly better after a shower but also feel it was such an effort. I also feel worse because I am ashamed of my myself. One of my promises to myself is that I will shower more often, how depressing is that? That I need to try to promise myself to be motivated enough to have regular showers and I can not even manage that? Well, yes that is exactly what it is, depressing because that is what I am, depressed.

I can not remember when this reduction in showering started but it is not a recent problem. I can not recall if it started as a result of many practical issues, or was it just my low mood and lack of motivation. Which came first is hard to say but I suppose both reasons help to feed the problem.

The practical reasons for not showering  is because of our financial difficulties. We do not have the type of boiler that only heats the water when you use it, it either has to be on constantly or on a timer. Well I can not afford to have the water heating on timed when no one is using it. No one can use the hot water in the kitchen or the bathroom sinks because the taps are broken. So when my daughters need a shower, they turn the hot water heater on for 20 to 30 minutes before they shower. I often justify my lack of washing as saving money as I do not need it, I do not go to school daily as they do, I do not go to work either. Sometimes I justify not showering because there is no hot water when I "feel" like having a shower, or that when I think of having a shower it is often late in the evening and I do not want to wait a half an hour to have hot water. However, if I had a constant source of hot water, would I shower more often? I think that I would not because I honestly can not find the motivation.

This lack of motivation applies for much more in my life other than showering: changing clothes regularly, doing regular household chores regularly, going out regularly, talking to people regularly, doing just about any "normal" "regular" activities that emotionally healthier people take for granted or do not think about and they just "do".  If these normal everyday activities are a rare achievement for me you can imagine how difficult bigger things are for me to cope with: dealing with my debt, dealing with all the home improvements that need doing, dealing with my children and all their constant wants and needs, dealing with my son's addiction and social isolation, depression and anxieties. Dealing with all the many many things that a normal life has to deal with as well as all the many issues that a very unhealthy, dysfunctional and demanding life has to deal with has all become much too heavy for my shoulders to bare all alone.

Was I depressed before all the problems started? No not to this level. I was unhappy many times in my life but never as apathetic as I feel now., because depression and being unhappy are not one in the same. I was happy with my children when they were young and was always active with them (well mostly my son, and also with my daughter but less so with my youngest). I taught my children, again mostly my son, to enjoy life when they were little, to see the beauty life has everywhere, to laugh and be silly, to be good and kind, to always smile despite how hard life can be and ironically it has had very little long term affects in their lives, again, especially for my son.

Someone I know often tells me that I must stop being so depressed and apathetic for my children sake. Nothing could annoy me more. It annoys me for two reasons. Firstly, if it was so easy to stop being depressed and to start being more energetic and proactive simply because you are a parent, then the world would reduce mental health issues by more than half! It is as ridiculous as telling a parent to tell their children to stop taking drugs or any other dangerous activity. Or indeed, it is as unbelievable as telling a drug addict or alcoholic to just stop using! Yeah, ok, I have kids, I better not be depressed anymore, I better start looking after myself and my family and I better make everything wonderful! If only life were so simplistic.

Secondly, it annoys me because I have done that so many times in my life and it seems that life just keeps getting worse. I have fought and worked so hard in so many differing situations for my children to help them or to attempt to make our lives better and actually each and every year our lives get worse and worse. Through it all I always managed to put a smile on my face, make my children laugh and point out some of life's beauty. Unfortunately it did not have any lasting positive affects on my children.

I've always tried everything I could for my kids. The biggest thing I thought I could do for them was to get out of my unhealthy marriage which was also affecting the children because my ex was also a very unfit parent who caused our children a great deal of emotional pain. That is when I thought I was was taking a big step and I would make life better for  my children; however it did not happen. Shortly after that my son was taking drugs and eventually excluded from school for drugs. I made it my full time job to learn all the education guidance for exclusions and contacted many organisations, attending numerous appeals etc until we "won" the fight and my son was reinstated. However the results when he was reinstated in school were more negative than positive. I again fought my son's corner to get him enrolled in 6 Form and helped with course work and supported him and attended meetings when it was evident to the school that he was struggling. I once again made phone calls and fought and explained and helped, but in the end despite all the support he quit 6 Form as his drug addiction was making it too difficult for him to function. There are so many other examples that come to mind in which I spent my time trying to get help and support and did all I could do to try to make my family better for my children. All the times I did not "allow" myself to be so "selfish" to be depressed. I even made my vulnerable son move and essentially made him homeless to ensure the best home environment for my daughters and possibly to somehow facilitate my son seeking a new clean life. That did not happen and since then my daughter has had many mental health issues, has self harmed, attempted suicide and is not closer to me or her sister, refuses to see or speak to her brother and is often emotionally distant. I sought help through services for her, attended meetings, groups, made phone call  further just as I did for my son.  However,  we seem to have many more issues and the previous years seem less distressing as they are now.

I began this entry with I had a shower. A simply activity that illustrates how anything other than normal my life is and how complex the issues behind my depression is, One of the most frustrating elements is the fact that people simply do not understand and misinterpret my behaviour as antisocial or indifferent. I still care about people, I still like people, I just feel more comfortable alone and it creates to much anxiety, sadness and depression to be around people at the moment. People do not understand and expect you to change everything on your own or not to take the problems so seriously that it affects your life so much. Or they thing that having children does not give you the right to feel this way because you need to do better for the,  Some people take it so personally they do not contact you any more. Some get annoyed and express it by telling you off, "Why didn't you tell me it was so bad? You didn't tell me any of this", well no, because I can't but when I say I am in an unhappy place and do not want to be around people that was my way of telling you. My son has many of the same issues so my next post will be a PART II and continue with how there are so many similarities. I was going to here, but I think it is best to write them as two separate posts.

Life is hard for most and everyone goes through ups and downs. For others life is more than hard, but a struggle and there are very few and infrequent ups to balance out the downs, making life one big downward struggle ending in death eventually with very little success or happiness to show for the life we were given. How to change that is beyond me and it has been an exhausting exercise to wait and try and hope for better days, so I go to sleep.

.

Delayed Reaction

The day after my son overdosed I woke up tearful, I was tearful all day. Anything could randomly set me off. The simple and flippant usage of the word "die" was the worst though. To hear my youngest daughter say, "I died" when she lost in a game was torture to me and I had to tell her not to say that anymore, say anything else, even "I lost a life" was alright with me because I did not have to hear the word die, which was being repeated in my head over and over.... "he almost died".

I do not think I got dressed or if I did it was in the afternoon. I could not function and even though it was only 2 months ago, I seem to have lost a lot of my memories from that day. I suppose the stress was too high and I was in shock, maybe I blocked out my memories or perhaps I was unable to retain my memories in that mental state.

I do remember a volunteer from the support group I attend coming by unannounced, I was ashamed because I opened the door in my pyjamas and no make up. I can remember him saying he stopped by because he thought I could use a hug. Then while talking to him, the lead volunteer woman phoned me to see how I was. I thought I was fine since I  was talking perfectly fine about the previous days events, but somehow while I was on the phone and telling some more parts of the story I began to cry. My youngest daughter was in the kitchen with me and she swiftly went to get me a tissue to wipe my eyes and nose and smiled at me sympathetically.

I can not even tell you if I went out that day, if I spoke to my son, if I ate, if I fed my daughters, nothing. I think I must have been in a daze because all I remember is wanting to cry and scared that my son could have died. I could have been crying and mourning my loss, but instead I was not but I was so scared and therefor crying! Was I still going to lose him? Was he going to die? Was he going to die today or tomorrow or next week or next month or next year? I could not bare the thought. An even worse thought was that my fears were correct, I always feared this and it happened. Did this mean that since I also fear his death that that will happen in my lifetime? Please, no, that can not be! Please do not let life be so cruel!

Cruel. Ha, don't be so cruel. Was I telling life not to be cruel? That is very amusing because as many of us know life can be very cruel indeed. undeserved cruelty that life bestows on some of the less fortunate ones. I feel life is very cruel to us but then I also feel rather guilty for wallowing in our misfortunes because I know that life is much more cruel for some and I often fear that in the future I will also be one of those people that life has decided to be very sadistic to!

Somehow I can not recall that day yet I remember going upstairs around 10 pm and I began to call my son and there was no answer. I called repetitively making approximately 50 phone calls. With each call my heart beat slightly faster. With each call the tears welled up more and more. Should I go and check on him? Should I leave my daughters home alone late in the night? Will he have his keys in his front door so I can not get in. Will I need to call the police to knock his door down only to discover his dead, lifeless cold body? All these thoughts quickly raced through my mind as my heart sank more and more. I did not put on my clothes, I only put my jacket on over my pyjamas, slipped on my old sneakers and told my  older daughter that I had no other option but to drive out and check on him.

OH!!! As I am writing now a memory has resurfaced. I remember feeling horrible all day because I heard my son's voice in my head as he sadly told me that he didn't even get a hug when I picked him up at the emergency room! Yes, that haunted me all day.

As I drove late at night on the nearly empty highway, tears streamed down my face and my vision became so blurred that I feared my own life! I begun to imagine what my daughters would do if I died in a car accident. I imagined that my son was not dead, but because I drove over in such a state to see if he was ok, I killed myself in the process, which in turn devastated him so much he took an overdose and died as well and that my daughters would be damaged beyond repair! It is really amazing how many thoughts and scenarios and fears can flicker through your thoughts in such a short amount of time, minutes, seconds even and we have thought of so many horrible outcomes.

I tried to stop myself from crying so hysterically as I drove, but it was nearly impossible. I was saying out loud as I drove, "Please, please, let him be alive" I kept picturing myself running in and this time hugging him if he were alive. I could not get there fast enough.

I arrived. My heart stopped as I let myself into the building with my key and quickly went up the flight of stairs to his flat. This was one of the moments of truths....could I get in his flat???? It had happened in the past that I could not as he was in the same habit as I am that he locks his door behind him and leaves his keys in the door.

AHHHH I GOT IN!!!! GOOD.

Deep breath now, close my eyes for a second and then go in hoping with all my heart and soul that I will not find him collapsed somewhere.

The lights were on. He was in his bedroom sitting at his computer with his head drooping down, eyes closed and the right side of his tee shirt was drenched in saliva. But as I walked in his eyes opened wide! THANK GOD!!!!!!

I began to go went to him, crying, sobbing uncontrollably and he was so confused but I asked him to get get up and come over to me. We met each other in the middle of his bed room and I HUGGED him, I hugged him and hugged him and told him that I love him so much!!!!

We quickly tried to figure out what had happened. My son, as I mentioned, had drool all the way down his right side. He had a period of time he could not account for. His tongue was sore. We both concluded that he may have possibly had a seizure.

I got him a clean t-shirt, he freshened up and then we sat in his living room and talked. I was so HAPPY. He was alive, I hugged him, I told him I loved him and we talked about yesterdays horrific events and how terrible it was for both of us. My son did acknowledge that it was terrifying for me and he was very empathetic. He talked about "dying" and he told me that he does not want to die, but in a way it was "not bad" being in nothingness with no more pain or sadness. He sad that despite that he could never intentionally and knowingly cause me so much pain. I assured him that life is worth living and that we will make life better. It was a very nice talk and we hugged some more. I apologised for my coldness the day before and that I did not seem happy nor did I  hug him, but I explained that it was due to my shock and my fears. My son actually apologised as well for the previous days events, something I was not expecting because it was the furthest thing in my mind, because I did not blame him in the least. I blamed life!!!! I blamed the people who sell drugs on line and offer "free gifts". I blamed the cruelty of life and that it has made my son want to numb himself so much with drugs until he feels nothing. But I wont dwell on that now, I was actually happy that he was ALIVE.

I turned on the TV for him, he laid down on the sofa, I brought him a glass of water and covered him with a blanket and kissed him as if he were a child. Well, he is my child and I felt the simplicity of parenthood that it sometimes is, making the world right by tucking your child in bed and kissing him goodnight.

After a few more "I love you"s, I left, smiling, at 2 am and drove back home in the very darkness of night reassured that everything would be ok, for now.

That Day

Nothing prepares you for some things in life, even if you have mentally contemplated some possible events in your future. Hundreds of times I have mentally played out scenes in my head about finding my son after an overdose. Thankfully when it did actually happened, the outcome was not what I have ever imagined, my son survived! However, though the outcome was more wonderful than anything I have yet to experience, the actual experience was one of the worst I have experienced. I think the only other experience that comes close was being there with my mother when she died. That was when I first heard the death gurgle, but then she took a huge gasping breath, as if she was going to go under water, and she was gone. A very important difference is that she was my parent, you expect your parents to pass before you. She was also dying of cancer so death was an accepted inevitability in her short future. We do not ever expect our children to pass before we do. We do not expect a self inflicted death of our children, whether it was due to an intentional suicide, or an unintentional overdose or accident. How parents survive the death of a child regardless of cause is beyond me. I do not know if I have the strength to carry on living if I lost a child, even though I have other children. My heart bleeds for those parents, but selfishly I am so glad that I have not joined that group of bereaving parents.

                                       

I carried on as normal after my son was taken away in the ambulance. I tried to look for his drugs and take them with me. I packed a bag to take to hospital. I phoned his new drug worker and explained what had just happened and that we need to cancel the appointment for tomorrow. I looked for my keys but could not find them. I looked around the mess that was my son's flat and how worse the mess was after the chaos and madness of what happened less than an hour ago when 6 emergency attendants and doctors crammed in and tried to save my son. I talked to the housing staff. I found my keys, which were in my trouser pocket, but had never looked there, and I drove home to my daughters.

When I approached home my thoughts were how am I going to disappoint my daughters that we will not be packing up and going to the seaside for a few days as planned. There disappointment in having mom let them down, and it was their brother's fault was how I perceived their reaction. I sat down and calmly told my daughters what had just happened, their brother almost died and I had helped save his life. I told them without a tear in my eye or a wobble in my voice. They did not react much. I told them we could therefore not go away today, I saw the disappointment in their faces. I proceeded to tell some people what had happened, but it was all very surreal not only because I was calm, but because there was not the outpouring of shock and sympathy with offers to help. It all seemed too matter of fact. Is this what everyone expected to happen one day? Did it not surprise anyone? Even if this was the case, for I have feared such an event and have often voiced my fear, did we not deserve some shock and sympathy?

Then the calls from my son started. He was agitated. He was upset that I left his flat. His fear was the police would be involved, his flat searched for drugs, being questioned about the drug he took and that he would be arrested for having purchased that drug! Irrational fear, but it was his fear none the less. It seemed that my son would stay overnight and that the psychiatric team would assess him the following day to assess whether he would need to be admitted or not. Then as I calmed down with relief that he will be safe, and I would go take him his clothes, toothbrush, underwear etc, I got another call from my son. My son had been DISCHARGED!!! He was waiting for me to collect him and take him home. No psych consult, no overnight observation, nothing.

So my son took too much Butyr Fentanyl because he was very stressed and anxious and did not receive his Valiums in the post. He had none at home. He was agitated and wanted to calm down. He knew he had his "free gift" however, and that would work as a quick fix to calm him and get him to his appointment without stress. He was conscientious though that he was "ashamed" of his behaviour and so he did not want his mother to know or to see him have a smoke of the deathly drug. There was no way of measuring it out as the tools he uses were in the room I was in and there was nothing in his reach except a spoon and he wanted to hurry before I came back in his room to see if he was ready. Quick, what should he do? He used the tip of the spoon, he looked and thought it was far too much but he will only smoke a bit and it will be ok (though in his own words to me earlier he said, "this can kill people if they aren't carefully). This was not because he wanted a quick fix since he is no longer addicted to opiates. This was not to get high. This was not to kill himself. This was because he was very anxious and had nothing to calm him. This was the young man who is always meticulous about precise measuring techniques to keep him safe. This was the action of a very desperate person to get a few minutes relief from his mental anguish. He got relief by entering total blackness and nothingness.

This was also the young man who has had three or four psychiatric admissions and suffers from long term drug misuse issues. This is the young man who had purchased said drug and still had it at his flat. This is the young man who lives alone in his flat. This is the young man who has enough issues to warrant him living in supported housing. This is the young man who was discharged to return to his flat, possibly with more of the drug waiting for him and with no one to monitor him. This is the young man who overdosed on a drug and had a very long period of being unresponsive and in respiratory arrest. This is the young man who had to be injected three times with Nalaxone to stop the opiate overdose from killing him. This was the young man who was discharged from the hospital with no evaluation done, no follow up assessment appointment give, no determination as to whether or not he will be safe on his own. Discharged!

My youngest daughter said she wanted to come with me to pick up her brother. I was not thinking clearly at all because I said that would be fine. I did not consider my son's state of mind, mental well being or anything like this. I was so disappointed in the hospital and so concerned how my son will behave and stay home safely that I went in and upon seeing him ignored the fact that he was alive and did not hug him or show any emotion. Instead I was more concerned in asking the nurse why he was being released. My son did hug his sister who was uncertain what all the implications were, and was nervous and confused I think, so she did not hug him back. This obviously was not the reaction my son wanted and was not what he visualised in his head when he thought of us coming to get him after such a horrendous ordeal. We got to the car and my phone rang from the only person who actually rang me to see if there was anything she could do and ask how things were. My son became paranoid who I was talking to and why I was discussing him. These two factors made him aggressive and his behaviour was very upsetting. My reaction was also aggressive with a bit of retaliation and fear. Because of our confusing behaviour we both managed unintentionally to frighten my daughter who began to cry.

The rest is a bit of a blur. All I knew was that this was not the way we were meant to be acting.None of this was suppose to be happening. We deserve better than this but we are just too screwed up as a family. How did it all happen? How did we get here and more importantly, how do we get out of this hell?

I also knew I had the"death powder" (as my son would later call it). I did not know what to do with it. I was worried and I was anxious and I wanted to get my daughter home but I was also scared to leave my son to his own devices.

After I was home, I can not even remember leaving my son's flat or what was said, my son and I spoke on the phone until the wee hours of the morning. He was very angry and aggitated. One thing that he was particularly upset about was my reaction when I saw him in the emergency room. I did not hug him. I did not say I love you. My son had every right to be upset about this because it is true and it must have been very painful for him. Despite everything that had happened and what had been said, I am sure that deep done my son was scared and just wanted comfort from his mother, the only person in his life, his only source of love. He received no loving greeting from his mother. The hurt must have been deep.

All the emotions of this this day hit me the following day........

Free Gift

On August 3rd I went to my son's to take him to a nurses appointment. It was the summer holidays, but I must help care for him despite having both my daughters at home. As per usual I arrive several hours before we need to leave for appointments, this is because my son is often in a deep drug induced sleep, or if no drugs were taken he is often up until the morning so again in a deep sleep, and then once awake he is then anxious. I need to allow plenty of time to rouse him and then he needs plenty of time to prepare himself to go outside.

This day started off as any other. I told my daughters I would be gone for several hours and made sure they understood that they would need to let the dog out regularly, make themselves lunch or go and get some chips if they like (french fries for my American readers). I left them a few pounds and left expecting to return and then pack to go away for a few days with my daughters to the seaside. My son was not answering his phone, so I knew he was asleep and I would need to wake him up. Also as usual, I parked at his local Tesco's and stopped in for a few standard thing; doughnuts, bread, ham, cheese, tomatoes, bananas, so he could eat something before we left.

I got there and he was asleep as expected, in his chair with his computer keyboard still in his hands.. I tried to say hello, but knew I would not get a response. I went around his flat assessing the mess and work I needed to do on my next visit. I put the shopping away and went back to try to nudge him awake. His post arrived and it was a long red envelop with his address handwritten on it which looked very similar to his Granny's writing. I said to my son, "Oh, look, it looks like you got a card from Granny and Granddad, and it s a bit thick, perhaps they sent you some money to help you out." That evoked some interest and he even managed to ask if the Valium he had ordered had arrived. It had not and he was disappointed as he had no benzos at home for a few days now. He did start to move about in his chair. I thought I would open the "card" and if indeed there was any cash inside, that might help him to focus on waking up as he was broke. I opened it and sadly discovered it was not a greeting card from his grandparents but some drugs. It was not his Valium however. I told him and showed him as he began to come around now. Eventually when he was fully awake he told me that it was his free gift, his free sample, from the seller who he had purchased the Valium from. It was a small amount of Butyr-Fentanyl, but he wanted his Valium instead.    

                      "Butyr-fentanyl or butyrylfentanyl is a potent short-acting synthetic opioid analgesic drug. It is an                         analogue of fentanyl with around one quarter the potency of fentanyl. Wikipedia"

                        "Fentanyl (also known as fentanil) is a potent, synthetic opioid pain medication with a                            rapid onset and short duration of action.^[6] It is a strong agonist at the μ-                                                  opioid receptors. Fentanyl is estimated to have about 80 times the                           
                         potency of morphine."  

He looked at it and was surprised how much he got and said, "shit that is more than I expected, that is even to kill a few people if they aren't careful!" So I asked him what it was and he told me and I even wrote it down for myself so I could research it later. Time was getting on though and my son needed to get ready. He was stressed and anxious and on edge because he did not have any benzos for a few days and was worried how he was going to manage going out to the nurse without it. I reminded him of the time and also told him that he has his first meeting with his new drug worker tomorrow and asked if I should come over early tomorrow to clean up , but leave before his worker arrived. These comments and questions were causing him some anxiety, I could see. He then received a phone call from a worker of his supported housing asking if they could meet up tomorrow morning to discuss any debts my son has. He was visibly agitated during the phone call and possibly even mildly aggressive, which I understood was a consequence of the uncomfortableness of the phone call. I also started to become stressed that this call was delaying us from leaving for his appointment.

My son's agitation grew with the minutes, the minutes that were quickly passing and I was worried we would miss another appointment which he could not afford to miss. The stress levels were rising and my son was pissed he had nothing to calm him, He resigned himself though to that fact that we would be late if he didn't start getting ready, so since he was just in a t shirt and pyjama bottoms, he asked me to go into the other room while he put his boxers and trousers on. I did and sat down. A minute later I heard the click of his lighter. I loudly said, "are you getting ready, or smoking your pipe?" I heard no answer so went in and saw my son slumped over in his chair, a familiar sight I have seen many times before, that is what I walked into earlier as a matter of fact. I started to walk over to him and could see something was different.

And before I go on, let me stress to you that the time that passed from me leaving the room to going back in and walking over to my son was no more than 5 minutes.

This is when my world changed and time stood still.

I went over to my son and he looked very pale, his lips were slightly blue, and he could not be roused. I shook him, slapped him, shouted at him, felt for a pulse....something was very wrong and my heart sank. Strangely enough I walked across the hall very calmly and asked the office to phone 999 because something was very wrong, I walked back to my son and punched him in the chest, over and over again crying. He could not die! He could not die! He was not allowed to die! No this isn't happening! I was crying and I dragged him off his chair unto the floor. By then the staff member was with me and talking to 999. I was not sure what to do, I was asking out loud, "should I do CPR, what do I do?" I was asking no one but I had to shout out my thoughts. I began CPR, the staff told me to put him in the recovery position, the 999 operator told her no, to continue with CPR. What was happening? This was not happening? My son looked like an angel, he looked dead, he looked helpless, he loved like a little boy, he looked like an overdose victim, he looked so sad. I looked at him, he was my world, like all my children are. NO! He CAN NOT DIE!!! NO! He WILL NOT DIE! I was shouting his name, I was crying I was counting my compression. His jaw was locked and it was hard to open it to breath in. Was that because he was already dead? Is that why? What am I doing? I don't know. As the staff member spoke on the phone, she excited said, "oh, he is making noise", as if that was a good thing because she probably naively though he was coming around. I knew different. It was the death gurgle and I knew I was very close to losing him FOREVER! NOOOOOOO, it can not happen. More compressions, more counting, more hoping, more crying. I was no on the phone with the 999 operator and she was counting compressions with me and assuring me I was doing a great job. I was loudly sobbing and saying "no, no, no" and "please, please, please" He can not go!!!! More gurgles, louder cries of desperation. Continue compressions, don't stop, keep repeating his name, let him know I am there he he must stay with me. Roughly 10 minutes later the paramedics came.

I stepped aside and let them work on my son. I informed him on his drug history and told them what he took and that he smoked it. They intubated him and started breathing for him. There were 2 paramedics, 2 staff members, myself all huddled around my son in his small and extremely messy room. Everyone was talking and I was telling him as much as I could to help and still shouting out my sons name from time to time. I heard that the air ambulance was called, and they were waiting for a second unit. One paramedic was trying desperately and failing to access a vein so that she could inject my son with naloxone.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Naloxone

Soon the next ambulance arrived and more paramedics were on the seen and I can remember one rummaging around my son's flat and came into the bedroom "Sharps box, he is a user",(meaning a heroin user) I interjected that he is not a heroin addict but does inject benzos irregularly. I kept saying that he smoked some butyr fentanly and that is what he overdosed on and he is no longer a regular opiate user. Finally they succeeded with injecting my son with the Naloxone but to no avail. Another injection was giving and still nothing. Now two doctors from the air ambulance arrived in their special suits and began working on my son and talking to him and I just stood there when all of a sudden I saw my son come around. I remember looking at the clock and thinking in fear that it had taken 45 minutes to bring my son around! Surprisingly I was very calm from the moment the first ambulance arrived, my tears stopped and I was very focused and I suppose I put all my faith in them that he will survive this!

When he came around I noticed they had already taken the air tube out of him, I hadn't even seen them do it! He was coughing and was groggy and confused and then immediately started to freak out. This is a common reaction to the drug they use to stop the opiate overdose, Naloxone. I have heard stories of how angry and aggressive many OD patients can be as a result of this drug. It is because of how the brain receptors work and because it blocks opiate receptors and endorphins. All pleasure receptors are shut down.

From here things are somewhat blurry because my son's anger made me very sad and the tears began again. Though I was so relieved that he was alive, he was being aggressive and shouting and swearing at me and blaming me. The paramedics were throwing things around in the room in order to create space to take my son out on the stretcher. The doctors were trying to get a needle in him for any further intravenous medication and this made my son freak out and start shouting at the doctors and they had to restrain him because he was refusing. I was crying and unsure what was happening. Would I come with him, will I stay here, what will I do with my daughters who were waiting for me and expecting to be going a a short caravan break that day? What do I do with the drugs in his flat? The mess? When will he come back. Will the staff speak to me and want to demand answers? Will the police be called? My son was shouting at me to stay in the flat because he was not going to prison? His thoughts were irrational and filled with fear. His main fear was that the doctors and or staff would phone the police that he had overdosed on a Class A drug and therefore was in possession of it and that would warrant the police coming to search his flat and arresting him for the drug he only consumed a very small portion of! It was chaos in every sense of the word!

As they boarded my son onto the ambulance and it was clear I was not going with him, one of the doctors took me to the side and rubbed my shoulder telling me that I did a great job and I kept him alive. She also said that she knows how upsetting it is because with an opiate overdose the person immediately looks dead. She wanted to make sure that I seek out some help or have someone to talk to because it is a traumatic experience and I need to make sure I am ok, but again told me that I did a great job!

They left and I was left there feeling numb. I was numb and on auto pilot all day, the reality did not hit me again until the following day. I am feeling all the emotions surge through me once again and it was indeed the most traumatic event of my life that I am still suffering from flashbacks and will randomly burst into tears. So bearing this in mind, I will write my next post on the after math.

My son finally did what I have always feared, overdosed. All that I have to say now is that I am so glad he did it while I was there and I was able to help him, otherwise I would have seen my son buried.  Gladly I have not had to bury him and he is ALIVE and I intnd to help him stay that way for a very long time!

Betrayed

When we meet people in any sort of "care" profession we trust them, we put our faith in them and we make ourselves vulnerable as they soon know so much about our personal lives and issues. Sometimes we meet a support worker that we are somehow involved with and feel an immediate connection and a mutual like that develops into friendship. Also often when your family is suffering and there are many services involved, you begin to feel the desire to help others in similar situations who may be feeling alone and misunderstood. This is what happened to me.

With all the support my family was being offered, my son was not improving and my daughter rejected all help. I felt useless, helpless and hopeless. I offered myself to the volunteering mentoring program. I did the training and gave it a shot. It was not successful so I moved to the young people's services and began volunteering and that has seemed to go quite well. As a result I have made that cross over of having certain support workers (some who worked with me or my son) as friends or social media friends or on friendly terms with. All of these, except one, have been very pleasant associations.

The one that did not was made more complicated when the friendship became physical and more than just a friendship. I have written about this particular relationship and the pain and disappoint it has resulted in on more than one occasion. These posts, the first one in particular deals with this.

http://livingwithmydrugabusingteenager.blogspot.co.uk/2016/02/drugs-brought-us-together.html

http://livingwithmydrugabusingteenager.blogspot.co.uk/2016/03/it-is-killing-me-to-love-you.html

However, after many months of trying my best to forget the heartache this relationship caused to not just me but my children (well mainly my son), it has resurfaced and I just need to work through this by writing about it.

When someone is an addict they can treat the ones they love very badly. Addicts can and do lie and cheat for their own personal gain. Usually this is for money for drugs, lessening their own guilt and also the fact that when they are on drugs or coming down they can become aggressive and hostile, treating those around them very badly. There are those who can just be downright unhealthy and destructive and toxic. Sometimes the behaviour is not a result of the addiction, but the addiction is a result of these behaviours! Unfortunately, once they are an addict, some use that as an excuse to apologise all their behaviours on their addiction, when in fact the unscrupulous behaviours started before and perhaps the drug use was to mask their own inner conflicts of their behaviours.

The man I was involved with was a senior drug worker, mentor, rehab manager. He has a past of drug addiction but then started using years after our friendship began (at least as far as I know). We were friends, chatting and drinking tea. This friend came around on weekends to do odd jobs for me and chatted with my daughters and got on very well with them. This friend would also come by during the week to chat, sometimes meet with my son here or outside. He seemed to genuinely care about us all. Everyone who knew him professionally had respect for him, liked him and thought he was very good at his job.

It took two years for it to turn into more than friendship and things were ok at first when we wanted to keep things as friends with benefits but then I fell in love with him (actually I believe I was in love with him prior to us starting a physical relationship). Actually it started with what seemed more of a relationship than friends with benefits since he came over for a family dinner, played the Wii with my daughters and spent the night when we "consummated" our relationship, so it was not hidden from my daughters.

Fast forward now. Lies and more lies. Being let down and stood up repeatedly. Contact became erratic and on his terms. He was separated, he went back to his wife, he got her pregnant, he left her, he promised more of a regular relationship with me and then less and less contact until there was eventually no more relationship, no more contact.

Fast forward some more. After months of no contact he reemerges and comes to spend New Year's with me and my children. He spends a few days with us. He spends time with my son on New Year's Day in a good and friendly assuring manner. That first day he spent with my son was actually in my home and it was wonderful. Eating, playing games with my youngest daughter, the two of them playing guitar etc. Later I found out that he asked my son for his blessing and he promised my son he would not hurt me. Than  it turned vulgar, spending the entire day day with him asking to get hooked up with drugs and doing drugs all day in the B&B my son was staying in. Much later my son told me this man told him all sorts of sexual stories and even confessed to sharing dirty needles with HIV positive drug user. This of course raised fear in my son that I could possibly have been infected. Also telling him other upsetting stories which were highly inappropriate. Oh, but wait, they were doing drugs, that in itself is highly inappropriate!

On New Year's Day, he got down on his knee in front of my youngest daughter and asked if I would marry him. She was so happy and giddy because since his arrival he repeated said "I love you. I love you so much" in front of my her and in front of my other children as well. He talked about going away on holiday, this too in front of my daughter. She too envisioned a happy life for us all, but more importantly thought she could finally watch her mother be happy in love!

Was he high? No not really, but I did start to think he was on something. Later my son said they did "score" when they went to the shops earlier, but that he spoke about his love for me before they took anything. Also my son said that he did not take enough of the "right" kind of drugs to make him act like that because of the drugs, so even my son, a seasoned drug user, believed this man! Was he off his face and acting silly saying all sorts as people do when they are drunk for example? No. Was this behaviour self seeking in order to gain money or drugs or goods or food or accommodation? No. Was he off his face or having a bad reaction or a bad come down causing him to deliberately say painful things? No. Did he know of our insecurities and vulnerabilities and loneliness? Definitely! Did he know that he was the only man I opened up to and had a relationship with in the past 9 years? Yes he did. Did he know how much we all wanted to be loved and have someone who cared in our lives! Absolutely!

Moving on! While he was here I showed him how amusing it was that he has an alter ego account on Facebook in a pseudonym with two random friends that has not been used for years and it has popped up as someone I might know. He quickly grabbed my phone and sent himself a friend request!!!! I thought nothing would become of it.

A few days later he left early in the morning promising to be back in a few hours. I even gave him my daughter's keys and rather than saying he is ok without them and will just wait for me if I am not home, he took the keys making it even more believable that he would indeed be back. He never came. He never came back!

I won't go in to all the details of that,as it is all in my old post. Now let's fast forward again! On Aug 21st his falsely named Facebook name accepted my friend request. Also a week prior to this I got a suspicious email from the same 18 year old young woman who was harassing me during my friends disappearance earlier this year. The weird thing is that the e-mail from her was attached to a thread of e-mails from a former boyfriend of mine who visited me during the time I was in an on again off again relationship with this man and he was very jealous. Also suspiciously the email had a vpn redirect on it so it said it was sent from a few different worldwide locations. This "friend" had spoken to my son about how he uses a program that redirects his vpn so he can't be tracked. This email also had a suspicious attachment on it so I was suspicious about what it may contain, who sent it and why?

I was not in control of accepting this Facebook request, as I did not send it and was upset that this man or indeed someone else was looking at my person post, so I fixed my security that my posts would not be seen by this individual. He still only had the same two random friends and now me. He then started posting selfies of his torso, showing off that he has lost weight and become quite muscular.  I thought why do that when there is virtually no on on this Facebook to see the photos. As a few days past he bbegan adding some of his old friends and old co workers. More selfies aslo were posted, yet no contact was made with me. No message. No apology. No explanation. Why? Why do this to me? Why taunt me? Why add me to your facebook which I had no role in, only to ignore me and show me how well life is? Not because he is an addict, even if he publicly said he is an addict who is now clean but did lots of unforgivable things in the past for which he is sorry for. Why didn't I just unfriend him? I was morbidly curious and wanted him to contact me with answers because I thought I deserved that much.

Then after portraying his happy new life and still no message, I get a friend request from the 18 year old who swore she was involved with him while he went missing. I ignored it. I got a second request a week later from her. I declined it and blocked her. Morbid curiosity caused me to unblock her and I saw her post referring to me as an "ugly, old, slutty hag". I also saw that the two of them were together during the year and she posting an intimate picture of the two of them in July. I was hurt of course. Then I see a few days later that they are now friends on Facebook as well though he sore to me and his aunt in January that we can not believe a word she says, she is trouble and should be blocked! Well I notice his that part of his bio on Facebook says he is "prince of demons...." while hers just says "queen of cunts". It says it all and I hope the 44 year old man will be very happy with his 18 year old lover. I feel that they have more than likely discussed me and laughed at me and made me into a pathetic old joke. I feel humiliated, rejected, hurt, used, lied to about EVERYTHING! Not only that but because I accepted this man into my life and home he did betrayed and hurt children, especially my son, who was very angry and just wanted to punch this man if he ever say him again. My son has always felt let than and betrayed and ridiculed by people especially the males in his life, well just when he thought someone cared, he was kicked in the face again!

Has this man used me and deeply insulted me because he is an addict? Did he stay away from me for 9 months yet resume contact with a "girl"who was friends with his daughter because of his addiction. Did he promise to always love me and be my friend and help me because he took drugs? Did he promise my son that he would help him get a flat and asked for his blessing etc because he was an addict? My answer to these questions would be no, absolutely not.

Does he have people fooled and cheering him for his success in pulling his life around yet again and publicly admitting to be an addict who is now on the road to recovery and he apologises to all he has hurt? Yes absolutely.

Am I and my children better off without him in our lives? Of course. However, do I still feel I should have been treated with some dignity and respect? Yes. Do I still want him to apologise and explain? Yes, but I know that will never happen and that is why he is blocked from my Facebook. Do I in the corners of my messed up mind and broken heart want him to tell me he did not lie and he did really love me and always will. Yes, yes I am ashamed to admit it but I do. I loved this bastard like no other man before and he used me for whatever self gain it was, but he exploited my good nature and did not consider my feelings or my children's despite knowing all of our personal histories. Is it sick that I still want him to reach out to me and to reject the 18, even though I tell myself I would never have him back in my life on any level? Yes it is sick, but it is part of the sickness within me from my emotional scars of which I spike of in my last post "SCARS".

I will never forget this "friend". I do not know if I will ever trust another again. I will still wonder about him and I still wished he loved me in a healthy way. He is scarred as well and dysfunctional too and uses all the wrong crutches to survive (drugs and sex and emotional manipulation). Is this because of his addiction, again I think not, I think the addiction came because of his emotional damage and now it is a convenient scapegoat.

Well I hope this new scar of mine will start to mend now that I have well and truly exposed it to the light!