tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21264663542600495872024-03-14T09:39:00.592-07:00Living with My Drug Abusing TeenagerTrying to comprehend addiction as well as endure the impact it has on family life while seeking help, advice, support on how to survive living with a teenager who has a drug problem.Susan Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06833812816177538263noreply@blogger.comBlogger144125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2126466354260049587.post-235704503865720132016-11-24T06:25:00.000-08:002016-11-24T06:25:44.715-08:00BROKENHow 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!<br />
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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 <b><i>everything</i></b>. 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.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYoyQAL7Ct7rIwUPLjL9EhVPtEnrlM6dsTGNe6y1gi5R7nyFE90tG7CPJe_FHjvt7l3gXNAIjKZJ3w8_h8LISiYyZfXhgTlcg7rsp_2AmZByTTxNNsm-PW5KbIwnAxAd_1WrF2cCzZhck/s1600/20160202_124007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYoyQAL7Ct7rIwUPLjL9EhVPtEnrlM6dsTGNe6y1gi5R7nyFE90tG7CPJe_FHjvt7l3gXNAIjKZJ3w8_h8LISiYyZfXhgTlcg7rsp_2AmZByTTxNNsm-PW5KbIwnAxAd_1WrF2cCzZhck/s320/20160202_124007.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b>Damage from damp on windowsill.</b><br />
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<b>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.</b><br />
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<b>Mould on glass jars stored in kitchen cupboard, not the only thing covered in mould.</b><br />
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<b>Rising damp damage.</b><br />
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<b>Slugs and woodlice inhabit our bathroom (and living room too)!</b><br />
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<b> Dishwasher drain and sink drain leak.</b><br />
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<b> Mould on a coat stored in coat cupboard.</b><br />
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<b>Mould in living room and most of our other rooms, ranging from white to black mould.</b><br />
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<b> Muddy "gunk" seeps in from outside.</b><br />
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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.<br />
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<b>Christmas 2008, happier times.</b><br />
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<b>Easter 2009</b><br />
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<b>Visiting my aunt 2009</b></div>
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<b>Last summer holiday together 2012, tensions were strong.</b></div>
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<b>Last Christmas together 2012</b></div>
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<b>March 2013, last ever photo taken with all my children together, plus my half sister.</b></div>
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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 <i><b>other</b></i> 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:</div>
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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.</div>
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My son had me on the phone for 2 hours last night, from midnight to 2 a.m. because all of his <i><b>brokenness</b></i> 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 <i><b>brokenness</b></i> 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. </div>
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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.</div>
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<b>Before hate, anger, damage and bitterness set in.</b></div>
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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......</div>
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Susan Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06833812816177538263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2126466354260049587.post-53252464630174205312016-11-04T08:57:00.000-07:002016-11-04T08:57:24.792-07:00An Average Day Part II<br />
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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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<br />
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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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?<br />
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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 <b><i>all</i></b> 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<i> never</i> existed",<br />
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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!Susan Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06833812816177538263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2126466354260049587.post-44895615215049107262016-11-02T16:49:00.000-07:002016-11-02T16:49:13.501-07:00An Average Day Part II 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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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<br />Susan Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06833812816177538263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2126466354260049587.post-55878685021160514132016-10-20T14:21:00.000-07:002016-10-20T14:21:08.846-07:00Delayed ReactionThe 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".<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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!<br />
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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!<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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AHHHH I GOT IN!!!! GOOD.<br />
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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.<br />
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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!!!!!!<br />
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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!!!!<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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<br />Susan Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06833812816177538263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2126466354260049587.post-26671007648455885792016-10-17T05:36:00.000-07:002016-10-17T05:36:25.937-07:00That DayNothing 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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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?<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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!<br />
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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.<br />
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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?<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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All the emotions of this this day hit me the following day........<br />
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<br />Susan Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06833812816177538263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2126466354260049587.post-61140981657457307232016-10-05T04:59:00.001-07:002016-10-05T04:59:50.819-07:00Free GiftOn 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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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. <br />
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"<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">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.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> <a class="fl q _KCd _tWc" data-ved="0ahUKEwiR8amE_LbPAhVhDMAKHbcaAcIQmhMIkwEwDA" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Butyrfentanyl" style="color: #1a0dab; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none; white-space: nowrap;">Wikipedia</a>"</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> "</span><b style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Fentanyl</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"> (also known as </span><b style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">fentanil</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">) is a potent, synthetic </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Opioid" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration: none;" title="Opioid">opioid</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"> </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Analgesic" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration: none;" title="Analgesic">pain medication</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"> with a rapid onset and short duration of action.</span><sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-6" style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 11.2px; line-height: 1; unicode-bidi: isolate; white-space: nowrap;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fentanyl#cite_note-6" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration: none;">[6]</a></sup><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"> It is a strong </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Agonist" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration: none;" title="Agonist">agonist</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"> at the </span><a class="mw-redirect" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mu_opioid_receptor" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration: none;" title="Mu opioid receptor">μ- opioid</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"> receptors. Fentanyl is estimated to have about 80 times the </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"> </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">potency </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">of </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Morphine" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration: none;" title="Morphine">morphine</a>."<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"> </span><br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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This is when my world changed and time stood still.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Naloxone">https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Naloxone</a><br />
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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!<br />
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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.<br />
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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!<br />
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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!<br />
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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.<br />
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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!<br />
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<br />Susan Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06833812816177538263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2126466354260049587.post-11937482325061334242016-09-28T06:56:00.000-07:002016-09-28T06:56:37.119-07:00BetrayedWhen 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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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<a href="http://livingwithmydrugabusingteenager.blogspot.co.uk/2016/02/drugs-brought-us-together.html">http://livingwithmydrugabusingteenager.blogspot.co.uk/2016/02/drugs-brought-us-together.html</a><br />
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<a href="http://livingwithmydrugabusingteenager.blogspot.co.uk/2016/03/it-is-killing-me-to-love-you.html">http://livingwithmydrugabusingteenager.blogspot.co.uk/2016/03/it-is-killing-me-to-love-you.html</a><br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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!<br />
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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!<br />
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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 <i>because</i> 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 <b><i>only</i></b> 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!<br />
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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.<br />
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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!<br />
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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?<br />
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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.<br />
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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!<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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".<br />
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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.<br />
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Well I hope this new scar of mine will start to mend now that I have well and truly exposed it to the light!<br />
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<br />Susan Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06833812816177538263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2126466354260049587.post-32357610426382591662016-09-27T04:22:00.001-07:002016-09-27T04:22:26.746-07:00ScarsWell it has been a very long time since I wrote on my blog, especially since I was writing at regular intervals before. There is so much going on that I will write a few entries with specific issues, in hope of updating my readers as to what has been happening over the last several months. This one will be more about my introspection over the last few months.<br />
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I have been spending more time than usual trying to figure out why life has been the way it has been for me and my children. This has led me to try to understand my own life and why things have happened the way they have long before I married my ex husband, long before my children, and long before my son's addictions. I am wondering what is it about my behaviour, my patterns, my background that may have taught me dysfunctional traits that have led to make decisions that have created more and more dysfunction.<br />
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I have come to the conclusion that two major elements of my life have led me to be where I am today. Firstly the relationship with my mother and her premature death. Secondly, the traumatic onset of my bowel disease (ulcerative colitis) at a very young age (7).<br />
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I had a very close relationship with my mother. She was a stay at home mom until I was around the age of 6 or 7 and again from the age of about 10 or 11. I loved her and looked to her for comfort and assistance. She was my everything, she loved me unconditionally, she was a wonderful role model, she was self sacrificing, she was nurturing and hard working in everything she did. She was gentle and loving yet also a fierce lioness who would always step forward to protect or defend my sister and I. My illness must have caused her great worry and it was when I became ill and spent a lot of time at home and hospital rather than school which was the beginning of my somewhat less than ordinary social development.<br />
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I can not recall how many years I was at home, but during that time I did not go outside and play with the neighbourhood children, or if I did I have no memory of doing so. I know I missed a lot of school so the "normal" development children gain from the social and societal structure that school gives and teaches us was absent in my life. We had no real close family friends, no family what so ever in the same country let alone near by. For this reason my mother became even more important to me.<br />
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<b>My mother and I before I became ill.</b><br />
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As the years went on I eventually began trying to do more things and though I missed much of my school years, my mother encouraged me to continue education and sign up to community college. She was supportive and encouraging. I started taking one or two classes in the evening and eventually worked up to attending full time during the day. In the beginning it was very hard for me, though I was intelligent enough and eager to learn, I lacked the past experience the teacher expected of the students. I was ready to quite early on, however, my mother sat with me and we did the work together until I became more comfortable and confident with the work! When the first year was a success, and I started my second year, my mother encouraged me to apply to University and I was amazed I was accepted to all I applied for. My mother was so proud, I know she was. She wanted a bright and successful future me, even more so given the circumstances of my childhood.<br />
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Basically my mother was always there for me, always helped and advised and cared for me. I did not have the typical childhood in which I built up social circles and learned coping skills based on normal social development as other kids do through going to school and being part of a group. I did not live in a family in which there was lots of activity. There was no extended family, my parents only had one couple who they were good friends with and they were older and therefore their children were very much older than my sister and I. So while I spent a lot of my childhood at home, the home was quiet and I depended on my mother for all my learning and needs.<br />
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My mother and father did not have a healthy relationship and my father (as most men in those days) saw his main role as provider who went to work and earned money to fulfil his needs as husband and father. My mother and father fought often and seemed to have a love hate relationship, very much having their ups and downs. They eventually divorced when I was about 12 or 13.<br />
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They say women look for someone like their fathers to marry, I think I have always searched for someone to take care of me, love me and support me as much as my mother did. I was just getting my feet on the ground, second year of studying at UCLA, loving it and doing well. Learning how to talk to people and socialise. Feeling better about myself, my life and the future. Then out of no where my mother was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and was given 3 months to live. My world crashed. My life changed. I cared for my mother at home. I took her to her doctor appointments, to radiation and chemotherapy. I cooked and shopped and cleaned and tried my best to maintain my academic studies. My mother and father were no longer together and my sister no longer lived at home. I watched my mother deteriorate and suffer and eventually saw her take her last breath after hearing that haunting sound of the "death gurgle".<br />
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I never found anyone who was even near to filling my mother's shoes because I must somehow project the wrong energy since the men I have attracted or been attracted to have been anything but a caring, loving, supporting giving man!<br />
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This is one factor of my life, my past, my personality created by my childhood that has contributed to my life's choices and my behaviours which have resulted in difficult situations and upset. The other one was a byproduct of my illness that affected nearly my entire childhood. As I mentioned, this illness resulted in years of near isolation. That plus the pain and discomfort and doctors and embarrassing procedures, all contributed to a very sad childhood.<br />
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Just before starting middle school my family moved and I had missed a lot of primary school due to being ill. I had a year of home schooling in our new home. I was also put on a high dosage of steroids which created a child who had the look someone with Cushing's syndrome. When I started middle school I was still slightly overweight, with bushy eyebrows and I wore my hair in two plaits. I wore unfashionable clothes and was painfully shy. I became the middle school's perfect candidate for bullying or as it was called then "being picked on". I was called names and laughed at in class, I was the one no one wanted on their P.E.teams or any activity that we were put into groups or teams. I was laughed at and rejected during lunch and recess. I was humiliated on the school bus. I walked alone from the bus stop to my home with a group of children (mostly boys) walking behind me calling me names and laughing all the way home. I have blocked out most of the names I was called and only one phrase has stuck in my mind all these years, "whale on the beach, whale on the beach".<br />
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<b>Me at around the age of 10.</b><br />
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Naturally this lessened over the years and my appearance improved, a lot,inside I felt like the whale on the beach for many years to come.<br />
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As a result this made it very difficult to "put myself out there" as an adult when it came to socialising, first because of shyness, insecurity, now because of age, depression and my parental responsibilities, I now realise that I have had a need to be accepted and liked and "popular". I have been somewhat vain and often insecure. I want to be wanted as a result of my illness and my childhood.<br />
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The years of exclusion and then the bullying when I re entered the world during my most informative years, created such insecurity and self doubt within me. This was because of my illness and then the horrible way I looked thanks to the only treatment at the time, long term steroid (prednisone) treatment. I felt fat and ugly for a very long time and whenever life was stressful I immediately started to attack myself and felt fat and ugly and useless. I have been looking for validation all these years and that is maybe why I stay in unhealthy relationships because I want validation regardless of the health of the relationship. Perhaps this need of validation and approval and being liked is why I wanted to be liked by my children's friends rather than being the parent who treats their children with more authority. I am deep down inside afraid to upset my children, I want them to like me as well, maybe that is why I lack some of the strictness that maybe a parent should have. I want to be seen as the popular mom and the cool mom in my children's social circles. That is absurd when you consider that all stems out of childhood experiences of being rejected and unliked.<br />
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This fear of being rejected and ridiculed and not being accepted, along with the void my mother's absence has created within me, has made me into someone who is a people pleaser, someone who avoids confrontation, always seeking approval from most people who come into my life. Maybe this affected my parenting and I should have confronted the terrible home life much sooner than I did. Maybe I could have avoided some of the damage my ex husband did to our son's emotional well being. Maybe I should have been more confrontational and cared less about being "liked". Maybe because of these issues within me it has somehow made me insufficient with dealing with all the hurdles and obstacles and in so doing I have created more and more issues until our life is as we now know it, chaotic, dysfunctional and unhappy.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>This is me!</b></span></div>
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The expression that something can "scar you for life" seems to be true. My scars seem to have affected me and my choices and my emotional health which in turn has affected my children's lives. No one can ever take the place of my mother, but I should not be looking for anyone to fill a void even if she was the soul provider of all my needs. I suppose in meeting all my needs and my social isolation I did not learn how to be self sufficient and build a life worth living due to all my avoidance behaviours. No one can erase the years of bullying and feelings of low self worth, but I should not have spent too many years looking for acceptance. Now I find myself living in a society which is becoming more and more obsessed on how many people follow us, how many "friends" we have or likes we get, I feel that it feeds on my insecurities and though I am no longer an adolescent or in my 20's I seem to succumb to that horrible competition when it comes to my online life, and I HATE that about myself.<br />
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The real question is, if I am indeed scarred for life, how do I make those scars less permanent? If indeed these aspects of my psychological make up have helped create this hugely messed up life, how do I move on from understanding it to changing it? How did these things contribute to my son's feelings and seeking solace in drugs? My daughter's anxieties and fears and almost emotionless existence? How will affect my youngest in the nest few years?<br />
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On that note my next post will be how these issues allowed me to fall in love with a compulsive liar, womanising addict which in turn caused not just me but my son and youngest daughter great betrayal and broken hearts.<br />
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Once I have addressed these more introspective issues I will tell then update you all on my son's roller coaster ride of a life.<br />
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<br />Susan Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06833812816177538263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2126466354260049587.post-69089770951247145122016-05-25T05:57:00.001-07:002016-05-25T05:57:56.942-07:00Looking For HelpAn update and blog entry is long overdue and I hope to get one out early next week! In the meantime I wanted to ask all my readers a favour! As those readers who have read many of my posts, you are familiar with our struggle to receive adequate mental health care. My son has been in the mental ward as an in patient three times, each time he was in there for several weeks. Each time very little is done besides stabilizing his condition, looking at medication and giving him a safe environment. There is no therapy, there has been no therapy outside in the community as his mental health appointments are roughly one in 3-4 months. Each appointment is to see how he is taking his medication and if any medication needs to be changed or stopped. I have asked time and time again for my son to be put on the waiting list for talking therapies, basically one to one sessions with a psychiatrist or psychologist. The waiting list is 2 years and that is if he meets the criteria. So far he is not on the waiting list. My son has voiced to me before that he would seek out a private psychiatrist if he could afford it.<br />
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Also his drug worker went on maternity leave about 6 months ago and the worker covering for her has only seen my son 3 times.<br />
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I am tenacious! I do not give up! I am depressed and have a shitty life but that does not mean I am going to give up, especially on my children! So therefore I have started a Go Fund Me campaign to see if we can raise enough money to get the private care that we can not afford to do on our own. I would be very grateful if any of my readers could share the link on their Facebook, Twitter or Google+ pages. I am looking to get support as well as raise awareness that our system just is not working despite all the political talk of improving the mental health services in the UK.<br />
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Here is the link and I hope I can see some support and I will be writing a "proper" blog entry in the next week or so!<br />
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<a href="http://gofund.me/25jmngdg">gofund.me/25jmngdg</a><br />
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<br />Susan Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06833812816177538263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2126466354260049587.post-19416072156234649872016-03-18T13:28:00.000-07:002016-04-07T12:06:43.402-07:00It is Killing Me to Love You!How do you love an addict? And why love an addict? Because we do not choose who we fall in love with. Who our children or loved ones turn out to be are out of our hands. We do NOT in fact love the addict. We actually HATE the addiction! We love who the addict once was, who we thought they were or who we would have liked them to be. We love the goodness underneath all the destruction that addiction has created upon their very being. We love the potential of who they could be if it were not for addiction sucking all the motivation and ability out of them. We love them, who they really are and they can no longer see under the darkness addiction has blanketed them in. We can not stop loving them regardless of the fact that they believe they love their drugs more than anything else, when in fact their drugs are tricking them into and not letting them see how much there is for them to love without drugs!<br />
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I spend quite a lot of time with my son, but it is not the kind of time I would like. Time taking him to appointments. Time calling him and ringing sometimes over 30 times in succession to make sure he answers so I know he is alive. Time cleaning and caring for him. Time making sure he has food, electricity etc.. Time being out with him trying to run some errands and having members of the public look at him oddly. Time arguing with him. Time listening to him talk to me like no good mother should ever be spoken to. Time watching him do drugs. Time listening to him talk about drugs. Time listening to him about his plans for the future which consist off stocking up on drugs, making drugs, tying new drugs. Time listening him complain about how he has nothing and no one in his life but drugs (and me). All the quantity, with very little quality. But I still love him.<br />
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I have watched painfully a "life" no mother ever wants for her child. I have watched while the one life addiction possessed knock all the lives of those involved down, like evil dominoes. I have watched, paralysed with fear and depression, being helpless to the intoxication and toxic affect drugs have on my beloved son. I have tried to fight that demon and tried to show my son that life is good and he is worthy of a happy life, but time and time again, the drugs win because they give an immediate gratification which hide all the pain, living in reality is incapable of hiding pain. Promises of a bright future with love and education, career, travel, dreams fulfilled, all require time and the belief in oneself and the dedication and motivation to make it possible. Addiction takes all that away and falsely tells the addict they "she"will make it better. And so the cycle continues and continues and continues. We all suffer, we all feel defeated.<br />
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On top of it all, as if watching my first born child, and my only son be seduced by addiction isn't hard enough, I fall in love with a recovering addict who has shown me that no matter how well you overcome the dysfunctional cycle of addiction and successfully create a "better" life, addiction will ALWAYS own you. You will always be fighting it in times of stress and unhappiness as she whispers to you to come back to her because only she loves you and only she can make you happy.<br />
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Falling in love with a recovering addict who eventually turned back to drugs, cunningly with prescription medication, but also using more and more recreational drugs until his life was in utter chaos, showed me another one if the pitfalls of loving an addict: they learn to become masters of deception! Addicts lie all the time! They lie to those who love them, they lie to professionals involved with them, be it probation, doctors, drug workers, whoever is involved with trying to help them. They lie to landlords, school or work colleagues (if they are fortunate enough to be in education or employment), but most importantly they lie to themselves! And sometimes they get a glimmer of the truth and feel shame for the lies, so they take more drugs to hide away from that horrible realisation. <br />
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So yes, addicts become very skilful liars and manipulators. In the case of the man I fell in love with, his lying became so ingrained in him that he became, and is, a compulsive liar and I sometimes wonder if he even realises when he is lying. He has told me so many lies that I do not know any<br />
more when or how to ever trust what he tells me is the truth. My son, thankfully, oh yes so thankful for little things, still tries to lie to me, but often says, "Oh what is the point in lying to you" and then I get the truth. Ironically, when I get the truth (which I already knew but was not spoken out loud) I am then sorry to know the truth because my son will go into great detail of all the ins and outs of what he is taking, how he is taking it and so on.<br />
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This is what loving an addict looks like, this is a typical day.<br />
My son and I made a plan that I would come over. We would do some unpacking and tidying up together, then exploring his new neighbourhood, look at a few shops for things for his flat and then go get something to eat before I would have to return for the school run, When I arrived it was clear things were not going to go according to plan as my son had already indulged. I decided to start cleaning in hopes of making him feel better whilst improving his state of mind giving him a less chaotic environment at home. He sat there and he took drugs with me in the room and I felt defeated. I watched him slowly collapse and then briefly pass out.<br />
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Another day when my son was at my house and looking through my medicines to see if I had anything "good" and talking once again of drugs, drugs, drugs I could not help but get fed up and say the type of thing I feel I should not say: " Oh how I wish I was sitting here with my son having a <i style="font-weight: bold;">"normal" </i>conversation about how uni or work is going. We could be laughing at your stories of what happened when you went out with your friends. You could be telling me about how things are going with your girlfriend and how your flat is coming along as you set it up as your home." It was very upsetting for my son to hear me say such things because it feeds the self fulfilling prophecy and vicious cycle that he is in:<br />
I feel low and bad about myself <span style="color: #222222; font-family: sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 17.1px; line-height: 27.36px;">> </span></span>I take drugs > my mother thinks I am a failure > I am a failure > Lets take more drugs >I feel low and bad about myself and so on!<br />
Then I feel bad for saying it and feel more frustrated and get more agitated, it keeps feeding the negative fires we have perfected living in!<br />
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But when the day is done and I drive away from my son, or hang up the phone, it is irrelevant that I am angry or sad or frustrated by how my son "lives" his life chained to what controls him, drugs and addiction, because I remember that I love him and I worry about him! Sometimes, actually often, I see the little boy behind all the messy unkept hair, scraggly beard and dazed and often vacant eyes, and I miss him. Other times I look at him and see how he can still turn things around and he <i style="font-weight: bold;">still</i> has potential, yet the drugs are slowly killing his brain and his soul.<br />
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As far as the man I love, I still love him but I have my eyes more open now and I will not let his lies empower him to take advantage of me any longer. If he needs or wants my friendship, love and support to help him if he should ever make those decisions then I will be here for him. Loving two addicts and two emotionally stunted and manipulative people is very challenging to my mental health and extremely draining. At the end of the day my son is my son who needs me more and the man I love is a friend who has not committed himself to me so therefore I must try to let go because I had made him an emotional priority for too long. This man did not choose for all the horrible things in his life which lead to his addiction. You can not choose who you fall in love with, and I must say I still do love him. However, I can <i style="font-weight: bold;">choose</i> how I react to him and he can indeed <i style="font-weight: bold;">choose</i> to be a real part of my life or not, and what that would entail.<br />
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So we do not choose to love addicts just as much as they have not chosen to be addicts. The drug is not the enemy, when you think about it, the enemy is emotional pain or damage that has created a <i style="font-weight: bold;">need </i>to use drugs to make life <b><i>"</i></b><i style="font-weight: bold;">better"</i>, that is why not everyone who has tried or taken drugs turn into an addicts. If that were the case most of use would be addicts! There needs to be healing <i style="font-weight: bold;">before</i> the addiction can end, but it is a very painful process to begin the psychology dissection of self whilst trying to identify the source of that emotional pain!<br />
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<br />Susan Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06833812816177538263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2126466354260049587.post-75221122579723113532016-02-22T07:20:00.000-08:002016-02-22T07:20:20.502-08:00The Darkness of Depression and DysfunctionMy son and I are both going through very difficult times and as it often happens when two people who are very close and are both struggling, they become the worst company for each other. Last week each conversation ended in hurtful words being thrown around and it was as if we wanted to cause each other more pain and suffering because we were hurting! One thing I said to my son, which hurt him profoundly and created such abusive anger in him was the following txt message: "I have many of my own problems which you seem to disregard. You need to stop making me accountable for everything. I am not responsible for delivering your medication. Your main problem is your addiction which you keep failing to address." There were many txts before and after this particular one, but this one really hit a core with my son.<br />
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How dare I call him "an addict" (not my words, but his interpretation)? Not only an addict, but he added "just" as well, "you think I am just an addict", "all my problems are because I am just an addict", etc. Oh the abusive I got for that txt! I hit a nerve, that is for sure. However, I should quietly listen to being called lazy, stupid, crazy, bitch, whore, cunt, pathetic without a reaction. Such is the nature of mother/child relationships? No, definitely not the normal parent/child relationship here! Is it the normal conversation of addict and non addict? Possibly. Once again I think I can say that it <b>IS</b> the way dysfunctional relationships work.<br />
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Years of dysfunction and lack of control and lack of support has finally taken it's toll on me. I have almost always been able to cling on to a bit of hope, see something positive and hold on to the belief that the world is essentially a good place. Watching my life slip through my fingers and years stolen from me with nothing to show for it but grief and sadness is not a recipe for positivity. I have said it before that it is difficult for my children to be positive about their lives and their future when they see my life has been a struggle riddled with disappointments, heartache and obstacles.<br />
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Ironically however, amidst all the mutual depression wrecking havoc with our lives, that txt message sent in the middle of a txt message war did seem to provide something positive, even if it was fleeting.<br />
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A few days later we engaged in a long conversation via e-mail and these are some of my son's insights, which I can not help but wonder if it was a result of the "addiction" comment I made.<br />
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" ...<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', 'Segoe UI', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> it gave me a new perspective, made me realize what I am doing is just stupid, that I am wasting my life and will be dead if I keep it up, and made me consider what I could do to change it, and reinforced the Ideas I already had (because I had one weak and one strong trip) from earlier when I just took half, and the issues I had started to work through from the MDMA.</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', 'Segoe UI', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> "</span><br />
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" ..<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', 'Segoe UI', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">how stupid I have been/being and how I need to change ASAP or I won't have any sort of live whether I </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', 'Segoe UI', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">die or just continue like this."</span><br />
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"<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', 'Segoe UI', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">What makes me really sad and ashamed is that, after reading the hospitals leaflet on I.M. (inter muscular injection) Lorazepam (a not so strong benzo) that they use to knock people out/sedate them, well, I wouldn't even feel it, and when I I.M. them (I.M.'ing Etizolam is the only thing that helps my back, does fuck all if I don't I.M. It)</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', 'Segoe UI', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> </span><br />
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Anyway I am ashamed that what I IM, or just take daily, would have almost anyone knocked out for the duration of its effects. but me, I just get up after shooting 10-15mg (on top of my oral doses) Etizolam, as if I hadn't done anything, apart from a minute or two I feel pretty good (only if I am already real buzzed off just drinking them) or just have it relax my muscles and so help my back a lot.</div>
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Other people, what I take in a day, or more accurately, what I CAN take in a day, would have most people dead. Poppy Tea + Promethazine (v. sedating antihistamine that potentiates the opiates and stops me feeling sick on them) + alcohol + benzos + pregabs or Kava Kava, which is a pretty standard day for me, not always with the pregabs/kava, and I don't do the Poppies everyday, I'm trying real hard not to become physically dependant (I bought WAAAY too much)</div>
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anyway I bet that would kill 90% of non-tolerant people or just recreational users, and I don't even get much off it and am fine and am never falling asleep or having any signs that I might've had too much, I wake up the next day feeling absolutely fine (after a great nights sleep though!) and do it all over again, just probably with a slightly different combo/</div>
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It's disgusting and makes me ashamed of myself (so I take more to forget about that :| )</div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', 'Segoe UI', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Thats why, now, I want to go to rehab."</span><div>
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That would be wonderful if my son could hold on to those thoughts, no matter how he eventually got to thinking about them. We continued to talk about the possibility of rehab and also how he would like me to help him find one. It was wonderful, though I knew not to get too excited and put my hopes up too high, it was a very good conversation indeed. My son actually found a ray of light in his darkness. He say the damage he was doing to himself and desired change. <br />
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That conversation and moment of clarity and motivation for positive change took place on Saturday evening; however, by Sunday evening everything had change and my son just wanted to take a lot of drugs and drink vodka until he passed out. All because "friends" on Facebook were "taking the piss" out of him, though he did not want to elaborate. It beat him down and made him feel as he usually does; defeated, deflated, rejected, unliked, unloved, unsuccessful, lonely, pathetic, depressed, worthless and so on. In regard to "fixing" things and moving forward with rehab, well "there are no rehabs that would be accustomed to dealing his type of drug use". Also rehabs would require work, he does not want to do work. The doctors at rehab would take away the useful prescriptions he is on if he would be 100% honest about how he takes his medications as well as other drugs. He thought the only options for him was overdosing or making himself go crazy and going back into the mental hospital. When I tried to say that the mental hospital wont help because when he gets out he will have to adjust to a normal life all over again, he was very quick and very honest in his response, "I do not have a normal life now, I do not know how to live a normal life". Sadly that is very true.<br />
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My son is an addict. He is not the proverbial street junkie, but he is an addict. He is not and has never been a "functioning addict". My son does not and never did hold down a job or go to school or maintain friendships while taking drugs. He has never learned the life skills to live in our society. He has, I am ashamed to say, lived a very abnormal life since probably the age of 14 or 15. So at the age of 21 now, after living without friendships or social interactions since he was 16, being homeless twice, having a criminal record, three mental health hospital admissions and a serious drug problem, no he does not live a "normal" life and more importantly, has lived a very unhappy life. A person can live a life that is not considered "normal" or conventional and be very happy, my son has not been happy since he was a very young child. What a very sad realisation for the both of us.<br />
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So life goes one, day to day without change, without the knowledge of how to cope daily let along look at long term plans or change. Every now and then I see a flicker of hope in my thoughts, and maybe, just maybe he and I will get more and more flickers of hope until the flicker grows into a bright light fuelling us towards a brighter and indeed happier future because have both been beaten down too many times and we need, no we DESERVE happiness. My daughters need that happiness in their mother's and brother's lives because the cycle continues too much and they also become trapped in the darkness. <br />
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Susan Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06833812816177538263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2126466354260049587.post-76174186883594403692016-02-21T11:25:00.003-08:002016-02-21T11:25:53.615-08:00Drugs Brought Us TogetherI have had the realisation that I began this blog a few years ago, and though there have been slight changes in our lives, fundamentally our lives are not that much improved.<br />
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The last few months have been a very introspective time and it has resulted in me being more severely depressed than ever. Some rather significant events have happened. My son was evicted, made homeless, had another psychotic breakdown and was in the mental health hospital for several weeks, he was released whilst homeless, I worked hard to get him accommodation while he spent every bit of savings on shitty B&B's, spent every bit of my savings to create a "normal" Christmas, arguments, drugs, broken family relationships and poverty. I was becoming more isolated and depressed only to have my hopes lifted and than shattered when the man I love reconnected with me and came to be with me and my children on New Year's Eve.<br />
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The man who entered my life as a drug worker, became a friend, then a lover and we fell in love with each other has a very troubled past. Not only was he a heroin addict who managed to recover and build himself an impressive and respected career in the field of addiction and recovery, he was also a victim of sexual abuse for an extensive part of his early childhood. No father, and emotionally abusive mother as well, it is not surprising he turned to drugs. He is intelligent and a survivor and though he continues to battle with self worth and mental health issues he managed to pull his life around, but was still suffering emotionally in a loveless marriage, the inner conflict of wanting to leave his wife but not wanting to "abandon" his children, therefore opting to live at home "for the children" which eventually created more damage, as is always the case in such decisions. He plays the tough but sensitive guy very well, he spreads himself thin trying to do for others in order to feel good about himself. He is a tortured soul, with an intelligent mind, a good heart yet has been damaged too many times in life. In a way he reminds me of my son, and actually he has even commented before that my son is a lot like he "was".<br />
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My son looked at this guy as someone who "gets" him and someone he liked, which is saying a lot because he rarely likes people connected to services and he has had very few friends and even fewer male role models in his life. Even after their professional relationship fizzled out and my friendship grew with this man, my son knew we were friends but did not know how often we saw each other and I never told my son when the relationship grew into more because things were "complicated". I did not want to get my son's hopes up, as he said to me a few times how he would like it is we got together because he really likes him and it would be nice. My son has been disappointed too many times to let him be disappointed again, so until things were more stabilised I did not tell him. In fact the way things worked out, I never told my son, because my friend struggled too much with his feeling, his own baggage and what is the right thing to do. Even once my friend admitted his love for me, left his wife, he could not embrace our love because he still struggled with his feelings of self worth, not being able to accept that he was entitled to happiness and that it was wrong for him to involve me in his messed up life. Through all our ups and downs, he always came back, but the struggle remained. I managed to keep a lot of our interludes secret from my daughters and but they were privy to my feelings for him and they knew we were involved, but they were not involved, if that makes sense. However, it was very clear to my kids, I think even to my son, that I loved him very much.<br />
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New Year's Eve was the happiest time I have had in a long time. My friend did come, nothing had changed between us even though we has not spoken since August and had not seen each other for nearly a year. We hugged, we talked, we drank, we laughed, we acted really silly. We stayed up till 4 am talking and went to bed only to fall asleep when the sun same up. He was grateful and thankful and told me how things are different now because he has accepted that I am the one who has always been there for him and he is no longer scared of his feelings.<br />
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My youngest daughter was thrilled to bits and could hardly contain her excitement that I was going to get a kiss at midnight. I even thought, that maybe this was a good omen and it will be the beginning of a new year, a new life, new happiness. My youngest daughter adores him and thinks he is so crazy and cool, I was delighted to finally have life in our home again and see her joy.<br />
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New Year's Day came around and we decided it would be nice for my son to come over, as he was in a dingy B&B, across the street from the prison, all alone. It would be difficult with my middle daughter, as she still refuses to have any contact with her brother. But with or without my friend here, she had to accept that over the holidays I need to include my son as well. She retreated to her room, where she decided she would stay until he left. We went to go pick him up and I made a cooked breakfast. Well what a day we had. My son stayed until 9 pm and if my daughter would not have been excluded (her own decision) it would have been perfect. We played games, we laughed, my son and my friend played guitar and made up their own song. I cooked, we ate, listened to music. My friend spoke of wonderful plans for the future, especially once he gets his compensation from the abuse he suffered which would potentially be quite a lot of money. He said he would take me on holiday, we would get married, then send for the kids to join us. He talked to my son about helping him get his own flat so he wouldn't have to live the way he is any longer. He talked about how much he loved me. When my son and him went out to buy tobacco he asked my son for his blessing and my son told him of course he gives his blessing, because we seem really happy and good for each other. At the end of the day what would be the best motivation for my children to keep striving is to see that I have finally found happiness and that you should never give up because you can get what you want one day. I think parents want to see their children happy, but even more so, children want to see their parents happy, really happy.<br />
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There was lots of "stuff" going on in this man's life and even though we spent 4 days together, I never really delved too much because I didn't want to spoil things. He was now unemployed, he had no place to live, he was back on drugs, he is in trouble with people, bad people, "after him" and though he seemed to be more focused in some respect, it was clear his life was falling apart. Things were getting so desperate for him that he recently attempted suicide, twice. I wanted to hold him and never let go, though there was a voice inside saying, "oh shit".<br />
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He spent the day with my son on January second, for what I though was going to be some good old fashioned male bonding going to the pub and having a beer. It turns out that after spending the entire day and evening together, it was a day that they stayed in the B&B and did a variety of drugs, as my friend was eager to score as soon as he arrived, as well as try out some of my son's more unusual drugs. While they spent the day together he was on the phone a lot trying to "sort out" something because these "bad people" were threatening his children. I spoke to him at 8 pm and all seemed fine, though I knew nothing of what was going on until a few weeks later when my son confessed all. Then at 10 pm I get a call from my son saying that my friend has had too much (I thought that meant alcohol) and can't drive home, so I needed to pick him up. He was quite out of it and babbling all sorts of things.<br />
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The next couple of days was my friend staying mostly in bed sleeping but every time he was awake he always told me how much he loved him. He also talked about dying and that he is not afraid to die. I knew that something was not right, but I was so happy he was in my home and we were all together.<br />
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That day when he went to see my son, he asked if he could stay a few more days, and I said yes, so he went to get a few things. He came back upset and said he had a run in with his father in law. A few days later he was going to get a few more things, very early in the morning. It was Monday, after the Christmas holidays and one of my daughters were going back to school that day, the other would go back on Tues. I thought that once both were at school and their lives go back to the normal routine, giving us the day alone with each other, then we can sit down and have a serious conversation about what is really going on. We rolled out of bed, he threw on some clothes and I offered him tea and toast but he said no, we would eat together when he gets back. He told me I should go back to bed because it was cold and dark and too early. I gave him a set of house keys in case I was out when he got back. I gave him a little kiss and off he went....never to return.<br />
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What followed was agony. I tried contacting people, no one knew anything, no one had seen him. I started getting emails from a stranger looking for him. He no longer had his phone and was borrowing a phone, I had never thought to ask for the number. I gave him my phone number but he left it in the pocket of his other trousers. He had lost his wallet on the day he was with my son so he didn't even have ID on him. I tried to find people who would know, but no one knew where he was or what happened just that there were people looking for him. I managed to locate the aunt he had stayed with before coming to me and luckily she was sympathetic and asked me to phone her. My heart sank because I feared she had bad news but she knew nothing of him since he had left, they are all in the same small village and no one knew. I had a friend drive by his mother's house, to see if his car was there, I asked her to call his dad. Nothing. He wasn't at the family home either. I called hospitals, the police, nothing. Weeks have gone by with no news and yet I feel it is not my place to get the police involved, in retrospect maybe I should have.<br />
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I have not cried like the way I cried since my father died. I could not stop, no matter how I tried. As soon as my mouth opened, the words were chocked on and tears flowed instead. While driving in the car, hearing songs that all seemed to touch me, shopping in the grocery store, talking to random people....EVERYTHING made me cry and I could not stop thinking about him. I still can't. I feared the worse, that I will never see him again because he is dead, I still fear that. I wanted to know what had happened, had is happening. Of course I missed him but my worry for him was greater. I cried, morning noon and night. I dreamt of him. I started to question his motives and became insecure and suspicious. Was it all a lie? Was he only using me to have a place to hide for a few days? Did he have any feelings for me at all? Was he just playing me? But then I would always return to the thoughts of his safety, that I really didn't care so much of his motives or anything else, I just wanted him to be alive and ok!<br />
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About a week or so after he left I received a phone call from his aunt that he had made contact with her. She told him of my worry, she told him she felt sorry for me (probably because I could not not stop crying while on the phone to her the first time). She said she had no idea where he was calling from, her phone only showed "private number" calling, that he said he had to go father away until things settle down. He told her tell me he is really sorry but he will be back. Nothing since then and I have checked every so often and no one knows a thing.<br />
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I was hurt and worried and pissed off. I was hurt that he has not found a way to contact me. I am worried for his safety. I am pissed off for the universe tempting me with promises of happiness and then pulling it away from me with such viciousness.<br />
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I had always hoped that one day my son will also give up the drugs, go back to studying, and create a good career and perhaps a happy life for himself, like my friend did to a certain extent. My friend also used to compare my son to him and assured me that one day he will get bored of the drugs, as he did, and clean himself up. After New Year's however, the similarities between the two no longer gave me hope for my son's future, it made me see how fragile these damaged souls are and how strong the seduction the wonderful feeling only drugs can provide in their damaged and dysfunctional lives is too great.<br />
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What hit me very hard as well was the fact that I will never ever be completely free from worry about my son's future. No matter how much he may one day get his life in order, perhaps even live a drug free life for many years, we will never be certain that he has escaped his demons forever. No matter what he has, how may obstacles he has hurdled, will he always be tempted to get back into drugs when life gets to a point in which he thinks he can't do it any more, he needs the warm fuzzy blanket of opiate and benzos to mask away his pains and problems?<br />
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Even a greater upset in this sea of upset and complex emotions my friend's presence and disappearance brought, was the fact that he let me children down and particularly my son, who I feel is quite vulnerable to getting hurt. My son admitted to me that he told my friend that he better not hurt me, nice to hear that my son was being protective. Also he told me how much he enjoyed having someone to hang out with and play guitar with and was hoping that it would become a regular thing. When remembering how we all played games (well unfortunately except my daughter, but maybe if things had turned out differently she may have been tempted to join in eventually), my son said, "we were like a family". Those are very painful words indeed. It makes it all very real how much all my children desire a happy family, no matter how old they get. My children were told by this man that he loves me and wants to help us. We were all gobbling up these promises and images of happiness because we are all starving emotionally for some happiness. What a shame that these dreams were more than likely destroyed because of the power drugs have over an addict. I am not doubting that he ran away from some trouble he is in, this once respected professional, but I do not know that the trouble was not drug related as it could have been, but I am nearly 100% sure that he is (assuming he is still alive) existing on drugs to escape all the problems. Drugs seems to have brought us together and perhaps torn us apart forever.<br />
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Friends and family think I should not be involved with him if he has regressed back into addiction, especially with such baggage and issues and troubles. I completely understand and appreciate that. However, that also makes me think of my son. Is that what people will tell his friends and lovers if he ever gets any, that he is not worth it because he has too many issues and problems, he is an addict? Is that the future for him, people not wanting to give him a second chance, or third chance or how many chances it takes? In my support group we occasionally have guest speakers talking to us on their addiction and how it took years of struggling and burning bridges and rebuilding those bridging, not once, but many times for them to live a better life. We applaud these people and admire them for going through the years of chaos and having one or two people who stood by their side no matter what. Yet when it comes to "real life" is that how most people really think? People are not glad that I am not willing to give up on my friend. If a miracle happened and he appeared at my doorstep what would I do? Would I turn him away because he is "just a man" and I should put my family first and tell him he is too destructive for our well being as a family? Or would I support him and show him that he is worthy of a life with people who will not give up on him or emotionally abuse him and continue to love him? People tell me to be angry, not to ever have anything to do with him again if he should resurface. Well it is not because he is a man. It is not about sex or having to feel I am not complete without a man. It is about humanity and friendship and love. If he comes back to me, isn't that what all these addiction success stories have in common? Someone in the addicts life that is not willing to give up on them? And in fact, if that would ever happen, though I honestly think that is very unlikely, wouldn't that be a great example for my son to see that I will never give up on the people I love (including him), and if this man can do it, not once, but twice despite the severe damage done in his life, than he can too?<br />
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My depression began a long time ago but has become severe since these unfortunate series of events took place at the start of the year. Showering, cleaning, going out are all very challenging chores that I hide from. I hide my depression well on the rare occasions I need to go out. I do not think people can tell I have not showered for over a week or have worn the same clothes for over a week. I have not cleaned my house since just after Christmas and even that was not a real cleaning job. I have clothes in the laundry pile (a pile that has over taken the entire utility room) that were last worn in September. I have unopened mail, unpaid bills etc. It is really bad, but I am hoping that purging my feelings here, and perhaps getting back to the cathartic and healing process of writing, I may start to tackle my depression, because it will have to be done, one small painful step at a time. I have to face this depression of my own misfortunes but also depression from watching those I love be destroyed by drugs.<br />
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<br />Susan Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06833812816177538263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2126466354260049587.post-12356349336300479322015-11-11T05:07:00.002-08:002015-11-11T05:07:35.147-08:00FailedI think, if I could, I would cease to exist. I do not see the point of this life, yet I do not want to die. I have postponed writing, though I find it cathartic, because I know the tears will flow and I am so tired of tears.<br />
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You must first understand me. All my life, from early childhood, no matter how my life and it's goals and dreams changed, one thing always remained constant: my desire to be a mother.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwsCwK9P5PLQ6brqq3ukZuk2U4wQIpGiPcYol5fNRrnKzC36FXiz-zB8N-0-DRnxl7miYUv_S01W-H6iNLtAb0dESDqgianHKnFCZf8WGDNd32kK86n0fD4muf5TNjlUoPHnDVmkxTKH0/s1600/visions+of+motherhood.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwsCwK9P5PLQ6brqq3ukZuk2U4wQIpGiPcYol5fNRrnKzC36FXiz-zB8N-0-DRnxl7miYUv_S01W-H6iNLtAb0dESDqgianHKnFCZf8WGDNd32kK86n0fD4muf5TNjlUoPHnDVmkxTKH0/s320/visions+of+motherhood.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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I will cut through the years of drama and get straight to the point, I have three children, I have failed them all and nothing is worse than that life sentence than having to watch my children suffer thanks to my inability to provide the life they needed to flourish.<br />
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My oldest is suffering the most, My middle child is clearly also damaged. My youngest will soon follow because of neglect and learning.<br />
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My two older children have both complained that they did not have happy childhood. They have emotional problems, possibly mental health problems, both have suffered and one still suffers with addiction (self harming for one, drugs for another) and both are socially isolated, one severely, the other mildly. They are unhappy. They blame me. My oldest does not live a normal life at all and it is my constant worry that one day I will lose him forever. My daughter is resentful and cold, not displaying any empathy for her family. There is a severe lack of warmth, communication, happiness and family cohesion. We are ALL depressed and I can see my youngest will soon follow suit as she is communicating less and less and has been neglected by me and been denied a normal childhood. She was 2 when her father and I split, she was 3 when her brother started using drugs, 5 when her brother was excluded from school, 6 through 8 when she experienced police involvement in her home, 8 when the police raided our home and made us evacuate, 8 when her family was dragged through the local papers, 9 when her brother was made homeless, 10 when her sister attempted suicide and now her brother has had another arrest, court, eviction and homelessness (all taking up much of my time). All these things came attached with countless number of appointments, service workers coming into our home, police in our home, emergencies, tears, arguments and hours of me being away from the home and leaving her alone with the tv and computer. Now it is no surprise that the TV and the computer are the main things in my little girl's life outside of school.<br />
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I have failed in my most important dream, motherhood. I have helped create 3 unhappy children that may all turn into unhappy and dysfunctional adults. I have failed them.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq99QugjJ_lrtigKnqdhdoOFfzpeyYIpp8MVMQQfKVxFbjvbblWQwEWaWSJYz8goBExHPycEc5JqNxuCNBCNw2k8e5QpVULEKQRkSs_GN4lhGSqChUPgQ3yyEpMxx3B65oH7EjJ18dtQA/s1600/unhappy-house.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq99QugjJ_lrtigKnqdhdoOFfzpeyYIpp8MVMQQfKVxFbjvbblWQwEWaWSJYz8goBExHPycEc5JqNxuCNBCNw2k8e5QpVULEKQRkSs_GN4lhGSqChUPgQ3yyEpMxx3B65oH7EjJ18dtQA/s320/unhappy-house.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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We do not share in family meals, there is little chatter and even less laughter in our house. We have no extended family and very little friends. My abilities to deal with all is taking it's toll and the household is in a shambles. My children have few, if any friends (my son has zero) and my daughters rarely are involved in social activities. We never have people over because I have let the house deteriorate and there is a sense of shame and tension inside these walls.<br />
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So my son: homeless, drug addict who is now scoring heroin on the streets and on probation again. Possible mental health issues which makes every element of daily life almost impossible. He is alone and very unhappy.<br />
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My middle daughter: depressed, high achiever, self harmer (though that seems to be under control), insomniac, socially isolated, resentful, withdrawn and has erased her brother from her life.<br />
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My youngest daughter: well she has just missed out way too much and has been left to her own devises too much, not mentioning that she has been exposed to many serious adult issues from an early age.<br />
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I do not want to exist. I have failed. I have not created a life worth living and to make my life more of a crime I have subjected three innocent lives to a life of emptiness and unhappiness with no possible vision of change ahead.<br />
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I am tired, sad, very defeated and in so much emotional pain, that my dreams have crumbled before they had a chance to flourish and I see no point why I have existed at all.<br />
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Be careful what you wish you, they may come true. I wished for motherhood, never ever contemplating the difficulties that my children and I may encounter!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh81PKrZDSJb28fxY04F0J5Pm0B3gwYwy7rsaYDpBaIIL2BBttBxjj2yb76WFTjThQ2dlVDUnCndjJ5NPWYdbMhJVqFCk-WP9YUctMLmgEq5Wx50eXXi5LeznWn7Hzr2wnJwryJaGFT0mU/s1600/be+careful+what+you+wish+for.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh81PKrZDSJb28fxY04F0J5Pm0B3gwYwy7rsaYDpBaIIL2BBttBxjj2yb76WFTjThQ2dlVDUnCndjJ5NPWYdbMhJVqFCk-WP9YUctMLmgEq5Wx50eXXi5LeznWn7Hzr2wnJwryJaGFT0mU/s320/be+careful+what+you+wish+for.jpg" width="319" /></a>Susan Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06833812816177538263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2126466354260049587.post-8227493137269214002015-10-07T07:02:00.001-07:002015-10-07T07:02:18.744-07:00Living in FearI had a moment this morning in which I though, "It is as if I am just waiting for my son to die". Terrible, isn't it? It is not a thing I want, it is not as if I am waiting for it eagerly. Obviously not. I am leaving in fear and that fear always makes me fear that, "maybe now is the time I will have my nightmares become reality". The fear paralysis me. If I am not doing something to spend time with my son, or feel like I am doing something to help him, I am petrified and immobilized!<br />
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<img src="http://imgc.allpostersimages.com/images/P-473-488-90/40/4009/TEIWF00Z/posters/body-of-man-petrified-by-ash-from-eruption-of-vesuvius-in-79-ad-pompeii-italy.jpg" /><br />
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Yesterday I took my son to the bank and to Taco Bell. He was obviously high. I asked him on what, on heroin. It apparently is not a nice high he likes and he was slurred and sedated but still anxious and feeling "bad". I know that people can sense that there is something not quite right when they look at my son or he speaks to them. I am ashamed yet not ashamed at the same time. I enjoy his company, yet I am frustrated because it is not the company I most enjoy. I enjoy being with him, knowing he is safe and alive; however, I secretly wish that I was spending time in his "real" unaltered" company.<br />
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Last night I had numerous emails from my son. The police still has his phone so we can only communicate via email. The last email was at 4:45 a.m. confirming our plans for today. I was picking him up at 10:00 am, we were going out to breakfast and the going to One Support to discuss housing. <a href="http://www.onehousinggroup.co.uk/sites/default/files/Essex%20Floating%20Support%20service.pdf">http://www.onehousinggroup.co.uk/sites/default/files/Essex%20Floating%20Support%20service.pdf</a><br />
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I emailed him this morning saying that I will leave at 10:00 am but if he could please e-mail me when he woke, so I know he is awake and ready! So I waited til 10:20 am and then left home. When I arrived I buzzed from outside the building because it is a secured building and you need to buzz the tenants or office to open the door. I buzzed repeatedly about 30 times. I know what the buzzer sounds like since I have heard it before. It is loud and prolonged. I was getting increasingly anxious that he was not responding to these loud and persistent noises! I buzzed the office. They went to check on him. Well the staff member was upstairs for about 10 minutes. I was getting more and more scared. Imagining the staff giving him mouth to mouth and trying to resuscitate a limp and lifeless body. The body of my son. Why was he taking so long? Is he calling the police and paramedics? What was going on? I was feeling weak in the legs and the tears were welling up. The man came back down and he said that there is no one there! I said that is impossible. Did he go inside the flat? No he only knocked! I explained that my son was expecting me and he emailed me in the early hours of the morning and he would not have gone out and that he needs to go inside and check on him. He said he will go to the office and check the fob key records and see if he has left the building! I was left outside in the cold, as the cold inside me grew. I was crying by this point, the tears flowed freely, I felt my neck getting wet from their flow. Finally the man returned and said that he will go upstairs and go inside the flat! I continued to wait outside, fearing and imaging the worse. Finally, after what he seemed like an eternity he returned, smiling that he is ok, he is out cold, snoring in his bed, but out cold! I was relieved. He saw how shook up I was and I told him that I often fear that one day I wont have him in my life anymore. He offered me a cup of coffee and I sat in the office and chatted and when I was no longer shaky I left. He assured me that he would go up and see my son later and also tell him I was here.<br />
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" 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As soon as I arrived home at 11:30 I emailed my son and explained what happened, in short omitting all my fears. I asked him to email me when he wakes up. It is now 2:30 pm and still no email. I have been sitting on my sofa with my laptop, looking at my emails vigilantly. I have had the TV on to create a feeling of life around me. I have mountains of chores to do but my fears continues to paralyze me. I should not allow this to happen because I still have my two daughters at home to care for...yet it seems impossible while my son is on the brink of oblivion.<br />
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<img src="http://crusadingwithkatie.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/06/Waiting.jpg" />Susan Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06833812816177538263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2126466354260049587.post-75936202428033056562015-10-02T04:18:00.003-07:002015-10-02T04:18:53.463-07:00SquatterI am not sure what I should feel at the irony that I am trying to protect my son from not becoming homeless, when I had him leave the family home nearly two years ago and therefore made him homeless. At the moment he is squatting in his flat and waiting for the date when bailiffs will put him out. He was given a date to move out, Sept 13th, but has refused to leave, under advice from the council.<br />
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When my son was homeless nearly two years ago it was because he refused to try to help himself when I gave him a month to leave our home. I was at the end of my tether and had no choice but to put my two under age children's emotional health and safety above my son's who was 18 and in the eyes of the law, an adult.<br />
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I do not think that either my son nor I could accept homelessness for a second time, though I accept that many people in my son's predicament have been homeless many times in their lives. I think my son and I also appreciate that over the last two years his drug and alcohol use has not improved, and in fact deteriorated at times. He has also had more than one psychotic episode and had numerous visits and admissions to the hospital, two of which were into the mental health unit. Something that did not happen whilst at home. He is in a different place now and he has experienced many unpleasant and scary things such as homelessness, so the reality of what it is really like is not so simplistic or romantic anymore.<br />
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It has been my mission since I returned from my summer holiday abroad with my daughters to make my son a priority now while he faces the stressful eviction process. Unfortunately my son has no hope and lives in atrocious conditions, which makes me remember scenes from the film "Trainspotting". There is mold on food and drinks due to dishes with food and cups with tea being left half eaten and half drunk for days on end because my son is too intoxicated from a variety of substances to remember they were there. His oven is burned to a crisp due to cooking ready meals and then passing out until the food turns into charcoal. There is food, banana skins, rotten food, cigarette butts, rubbish etc all around the floor and flat. His flat is so neglected and so is his health and it is a sign of his drug use but also his feelings of helplessness and hopelessness.<br />
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A mug of tea.<br />
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Above and below is the chicken breast I brought him once.<br />
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The kitchen.<br />
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I clean up as much as I can to ensure that he will not become ill. I arrive sometimes to find raw rice spilled all over the floor but what is even worse, he was once eating raw wet rice, perhaps thinking he had cooked it but he did not. When I brought this to his attention, he just said it was fine The following day he was ill vomiting and diarrhea, I told him I think it is from the rice, he did not think there was anything wrong with what he ate.<br />
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On some days my son can hardly speak or keeps his eyes open. On another occasion he was eating porridge oats (oatmeal) that he had just wetted and had turned into something that resembled wet cement since they were not of the instant variety and needed to be cooked. On other days he is reasonably focus and we get some work done, but all in all he is hiding from the inevitable.<br />
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We had plans on Sunday afternoon to go to a blues and jazz open mic session at a local ale house and my son was really looking forward to it. Unfortunately when I got there he was too out of it and I refused to go. First of all I said that I would not take him anywhere in such a state. Secondly I told him that he would more than likely be refused service at a pub. Thirdly it would not be fully enjoyed by either of use. That day I cried and swore, pleading that he stop this life and find a reason within himself to change because he has the potential of a nice life.<br />
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Two days later when I went over, he told me he didn't take as much substances "for me" because he wants to go out. I was happy to take him out and treat him to taco Tuesday and run some errands because staying indoors all day and always having me come over to pack and clean is not the best life. I understand that my son can not live without any substances because everything in life and the world seems to bring him some level of anxiety. So even though there were still jobs to get done (though he had managed to keep his kitchen clean after I got rid of the filth), a bit of normalcy like going out to lunch and sitting in the sunshine sounded like an excellent idea. Yes, my son took some benzos before I arrived, he was slightly sedated but not to an "abnormal" level, if that makes sense. I could tell, but I am sure that most people would not know. I can not deny my son a relationship with me in which we do not do "normal" things because he is an addict; I love him and want him in my life. I enjoy his company when he is not inebriated or aggressive. I can be here for him in good times and bad and hopefully keep reassuring him that things will get better when he is ready to make some needed changes. I can show him that I will never give up, providing him with the security and peace and mind that he will not go through difficult times alone. Maybe eventually he can make the decision himself to create a different life in which he is no longer dependent on substances to exist. I said to my son that he is not living his life, he is not even existing, he is some some limbo land between the two. He said that was a very true statement. I will live every day in fear that he will no longer exist, but also live each day in hope that he will begin living and get out of his agonizing limbo.<br />
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Taco Tuesday lunch with my son.<br />
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Susan Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06833812816177538263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2126466354260049587.post-47829820313543871962015-09-27T05:05:00.000-07:002016-07-28T13:58:48.883-07:00Dysfunction, is it Our AddictionThe term <b>addiction</b> is defined as: the fact or condition of being addicted to a particular substance or activity. Synonyms are: dependency, craving, habit, weakness, compulsion, fixation, enslavement. When I think of what is the biggest benefit an addict has when using, I would have to guess it is the immediate satisfaction they feel from the high, but the high may come from a variety of substances or behaviours. Most common addictions society thinks of, are of course drug and/or alcohol addiction, yet there are so many other types. On Wikipedia it did surprise me the types of addiction they refer to: substances, gambling, eating disorders, cell phone use, internet/computer use, tanning and exercise. In my opinion there are so many other behaviours that can become an addiction, but the one I want to focus on is not the one that led me to write my blog in the first place (substances) but rather, I would like to consider self harm as an addiction, which many organizations have already acknowledged it as such.<br />
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On the "Addiction Care" website, they offer help from a far more extensive range of addictions. They cover alcohol and drugs but also: Gambling, Sex, Co-Dependency, Eating Disorders/Compulsive Over Eating/Bulimia, Spending, Exercise, Internet/Gaming, Work, and Self Harm. On the website they explain that:<br />
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px;">Self-harming does make people feel better; the act releases endorphins, a brain chemical, which can bring on a sense of well-being and relaxation. Self-harm can be a way to get a release from intense emotions that can seem overwhelming and impossible to survive. A self-harmer might typically cut, burn or scratch themselves. The objective of self-harm might be to quell intense rage or anger or even to distract themselves from other physical pain.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px;">Self-harming becomes addictive because there is a feel good factor. It appears to work. But of course the need to cause injury to oneself escalates.</span></span></div>
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I sometimes think that my daughters self harming is her addiction and she is getting the same sort of release from her self harming as my son gets from substances. She started self harming when her brother lived her and there was a lot of chaos and anger in the home. She has continued off and on though and many times we think she has "overcome" this problem, she then begins again. Her self harming started with scratching her head until it bled, then cutting, and then she began burning herself. The marks and scars on her are many. I was the most distressed by the burning since they eventually left large scabs that she would then pick. After the burning, blistering, healing, picking, process she would be left with these marks/scabs that resembled craters. No matter how many times I would search her room for sharp objects and matches, she would find a way, especially since all she would need is to break the blade out of a pencil sharpener from her school bag to start cutting again. I would hide knives, matches, scissors, etc but it got to the point where I would feel it is never enough because there will always be something I had not thought of. Even if there were no "tools" to harm herself with, she always had her fingernails to scratch the bloody skin off of her scalp. Just as my son would always find a way of getting his hands on any substance that would sedate him.<br />
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I understand how this could be classed as an addiction and interestingly enough my daughters behaviour at home is much like her brothers was in the sense that they seem to have addictive personality type behaviours. I am referring to some behaviours/feelings that fits into addictive personality traits such as:<br />
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<li>Need for immediate gratification, </li>
<li>Low self worth.</li>
<li>Mood swings.</li>
<li>Social alienation and loneliness.</li>
<li>Constant stress and/or anxiety. </li>
<li>Inability to control impulsive behaviour.</li>
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Also, her behaviour with me when she wants something is very much like the behaviour of her brother, an addict. She can be extremely:<br />
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<li>Manipulative.</li>
<li>Controlling.</li>
<li>Dishonest.</li>
<li>Angry and threatening.</li>
<li>Relentless.</li>
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Then I began to realise that my daughter also seems to have a lot of attention seeking behaviours as well, but in a completely different way to my son's. Of course, both my son and daughter craved attention and love and acceptance in one way or another, as all human beings do. Sometimes seeking other people's attention and approval can manifest into a disorder as well. One of the theorised characteristics of people with attention seeking disorder is that they also look for immediate gratification in situations. In relationships they tend to use emotional manipulation on one level but displaying dependency on another level. There are many incidences when my daughter's behaviour is not in the realms of an attention seeking disorder, but are most definitely a young person trying to get attention! Of course we can also argue that the reason much of my daughter's behaviour mimics my son's is due to learnt behaviour or possibly even genetics.</div>
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Some people may argue that most of my concerns for what my daughter does or has done is ALL attention seeking. Self harm, an overdose suicide attempt (which she immediately induced vomiting), complaining of constant pains and generally feeling unwell, issues revolving around food and eating, refusing to go to school, changing her mind on her sexuality more than once, refusing to cover up her neck and chest when covered in hickies, and others. Writing them down, I feel it unlikely that they are ALL attention seeking behaviours, but some I feel are. As I said though there are people out there, both professionals and lay people who I know would shake it all off as attention seeking.<br />
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Maybe the simple truth is that my children, the first two in particular grew up in a dysfunctional family in which impacted on their self esteem and sense of self worth which lead them to seek gratification in less traditional or socially acceptable ways. Perhaps they both suffer from the lack of a positive male role model and in fact rather than having NO male role model, their role model negatively affected their emotional development. Alongside this there was little, if any, extended family or social support system to help offer these children guidance, love and acceptance. In addition to this, the main female role model was emotionally and financially controlled, and though she loved and praised and praised her children it was not enough to alleviate the tensions and inequalities within the family. Perhaps her self doubt and frustrations overshadowed her trying to be a positive and loving mother she was/is. Perhaps these children, a product of an unhealthy and to some extent forced union, were just confused and ill prepared for life and they have tried to help themselves along in the only ways they found that worked for them.<br />
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Whatever the twisted and complex reasons that we are who and what we are, and why we have become this way we may never be privy to, and in some ways it is irrelevant. I can only try to help myself become a better person, stopping bad habits and fears and insecurities influence me and rather seek out positive people and positive solutions to better my life and my children's lives as well. I must try to stop the cycle of negative learnt behaviour and dysfunction. I will continue to love them and support as well as become frustrated with them and even angry with them, but at the end of the day I want them to learn that they <b>ARE</b> worth it and they <b>deserve</b> happiness and a healthier way of life. Maybe we have all become used to and addicted to dysfunction since it has been our way of life for so long, but it is not what I am <i><b>compelled</b></i> to do, it is not my <i><b>natural self</b>, </i>I long for a life in which I can truly be myself living with the family I feel robbed of. Dysfunction and addiction have messed up my plan, damn it, and I want to find the power to reclaim my dream and make my kids believe in dreams too!</div>
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Susan Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06833812816177538263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2126466354260049587.post-49818486157150568402015-09-23T06:13:00.001-07:002015-09-23T06:13:26.086-07:00The Roller Coaster Life of The Lonely Addict<br />
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There are many people out there who are alone, unhappy and lost. We all find different ways to manage these difficult and uncomfortable emotions. We all, at the end of the day, want to feel loved and to love ourselves and our lives. That is not always possible and we then want to make ourselves feel better, feel loved, or even at times, feel nothing. What easier way to do this then with self medicating with illicit and licit drug use to become comfortably numb. I can understand the need and the motivation which creates sympathy for my son; however, I can also see the destruction and chaos which creates frustration within me.<br />
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Don't get me wrong, I am not saying it's ok to be an addict and I may not sympathize with them all. I know not all people are the same and therefore, not all addicts are the same. There are some addicts who slipped into addiction through over indulgence and "partying". There are some addicts who were almost turned into addicts from dealers who are in essence pimps who have no soul and deliberately get people "hooked" so that they keep coming back for more at whatever the cost. There are some who unintentionally became addicted to prescription medications and those who were socialized to drink and one day they realized they could not function without a drink. Not all addicts create a self medicated numbness; but, my son is such an addict.<br />
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My son's drug habit always seems to worsen when he has been rejected or had a negative experience, which is not surprising. My son does not go out and party and have fun while taking drugs. My son uses drugs to try to escape reality and in some respects he uses drugs in pursuit of happiness but he is starting to come to the point in his life where drugs no longer make him happy. That can be a positive or a negative. In a positive sense his realization that drugs no longer transport him to a happier plane could be the catalyst for him to seek out rehabilitation and a new direction in life in order to find happiness in other ways. It could also have negative repercussions in the fact that his realization that the drugs he is using are no longer giving him pleasure, he could then begin to experiment with other drugs and/or increasing the dosage in order to achieve a state of "happiness" and may in fact inadvertently overdose. I often fear the latter and every day wonder if my son is alive or dead. When I have tried to reach him and can not, my mind plays out different scenarios of finding him dead and my various reactions to his death. It is a horrible way for a parent to live, that each and everyday you wonder if you will ever see your child again, and it is more disconcerting when there are valid reasons for that fear.<br />
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My son is clearly unhappy and keeps finding it more difficult to achieve any level of happiness. When he reverts back to using drugs in attempt to erase his unhappiness, more often then not it will backfire on him. Just in the last three to months I can think of at least three such examples. During his last admission to the mental health unit we hoped for some help at last and all was going relatively well, until 6 weeks into his stay a new patient arrived. My son went out with this new patient one day and they scored some drugs (heroin, tranquilizers and synthetic cannabis). They were both subsequently discharged without any diagnosis or follow due to the fact that their discharge (as well as now the official reason for them being there in the first place) was due to drug use. After that my son regressed back to his secluded lifestyle of being indoors for days on end, being depressed, feeling rejected, feelings of self blame and therefore took more drugs.<br />
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Another occasion was when my son spent a lot of money on a variety of substances (quite a lot with the intention of putting some away as his stock pile) he became friendly with a young girl who is his neighbor in the supported housing where he lives. They started to get close and my son started to believe that someone could not only like him, but perhaps also love him. A few days of spending time together as well as taking drugs together, this young woman ended up in hospital since her heart could not cope with the amount of drugs in her system. My son panicked, flushed his stock pile down the toilet and called me up in hysterical tears fearing that this young woman may die and feeling responsible and so again the self blame, the depression, the anxiety all came flooding back to him. Luckily the girl was ok and was soon released from hospital.<br />
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Sadly the last example of my son's failed attempt at happiness by way of drugs may have very serious consequences. After receiving a large sum of money from the benefits department, my son was sensible enough to have me hold some money for him as well as kind enough to pay me back quite a lot of the money he had stolen from me in the past. He still had quite a lot of money left at his disposal. Even though he had a list of things he wanted to do with his money, like go to concerts, get a passport, buy a laptop etc he has spent the majority of it on legal and illegal drugs. When he first bought some drugs he spent a few days with a fellow drug user and basically that entire week is lost to my son and it is just a blur. Shortly after that week spent in a drug induced haze he had a visit from the police with a search warrant. Not surprisingly the police took him in for questioning when they did find drugs in his flat. He was arrested for possession with intent to supply Class A and other classes of drugs. Of course with his past conviction the outcome is not looking very positive. The drugs have been taken away, well except for the "legal" one and he continues to use drugs.<br />
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Of course all this has been exasperated by his impending doom of eviction with no where to go. First the reason for eviction was the state in which he keeps the flat. Then it was for rent arrears. Both of which were addressed and the eviction was put on hold, but always a possibility when the manager seemed fit to continue with the proceedings. Then whilst in the mental health ward, I received a phone call from the manager of the flats saying that "since he is in the Linden Center, we are going forward with the eviction as it is clear that we can not offer him the level of support he needs". So sympathetic and understanding, not to mention the fact that she is obviously a very good manager of SUPPORTED housing, isn't support needed here?<br />
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Once my son was discharged and things seemed to be improved in some ways the housing manager did not say one way or the other what was happening with the eviction and my son was too anxious to ask! All the time though, my son lived in fear as to what was going to happen. Then after the incident with the neighbor, the eviction was put into full swing once again. This time he was told point blank that he will be evicted, it will go to court and he will incur court costs and the bailiff will come and put him on the street. The housing staff knew full well that my son had no where to go, and in fact that the homeless shelter would not even help him as he was still in arrears with them.<br />
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This happened just before I went on a 2 week holiday with my daughters. Whilst on holiday I spoke to my son and he told me that he was advised by the support staff that it would be in his favour to resign his tenancy and avoid court, court costs and eviction because the local council would look unfavorably on that and he would be seen as making himself intentionally homeless. I agreed then that he should do as they advised. Upon returning home, it was my priority to assist my son with finding accommodation and the first port of call was going to the council. As we explained to them the situation, they informed us that the housing staff ill advised my son, and by resigning his tenancy, he is making himself intentionally homeless and he should have went ahead with the eviction and he would have had support from the council. Again, another blow to my son and all these blows feeds his feeling of hopelessness.<br />
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Next step, assessment for supported housing, to which I attended with my son and was told that his application will be put forward to the next panel meeting (2 months earlier this was suppose to happen but the man handling the application never submitted my son's application and therefore was not considered for supported housing on mental health needs even though he just spent 6 weeks in the mental health unit and was told that that was the reason for eviction)! I was optimistic to the point that every day that followed that meeting I went to my son's flat to clean up, sort out and pack up because I assured him that once his application is viewed at the panel meeting he may get a phone call telling him he can move.<br />
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Unfortunately, after I inquired (4 days after the meeting) we were told that no one at the meeting was "willing" to take on my son due to his past drug history! No alternative suggestions, no reassurance that something will be sorted; despite that one of the supporting documents to my son's application for supported housing was a letter from a psychiatrist saying that if he is made homeless again his mental health will surely deteriorate and the pressures of living on the streets will push him deeper into drugs and alcohol. No one was willing to take him on!<br />
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Since then my son has been indoors once again and on the day we found out this news my son said to me, very sadly, that there is no point. There is nothing in his life and there is nothing that creates any semblance of happiness any more. He doesn't even understand how I can still love him. He has nothing, he is unhappy and the things that used to make him happy no longer work.<br />
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How long can a person continue to go on while they are constantly feeling rejected by professionals and society? I do not condone his drug use at all, but I do <b><i>understand</i></b> the motivation behind it. If people who are being paid to help and support vulnerable individuals, do not seem to give a damn if a young person who still has potential to become a thriving part of society, lives on the street or not...well then yeah, what is the point in his eyes!<br />
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Susan Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06833812816177538263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2126466354260049587.post-39570912692995887932015-09-20T12:31:00.000-07:002015-09-20T12:31:26.211-07:00Time to Re-FocusI have spent far too much time away from the cathartic experience of writing. Too much time being overwhelmed without an outlet. Too much time focusing on my own pursuit of happiness and ignoring all the other aspects of life that needed attending to. Too much time hiding. It is time to burst out of the layers of fear, depression, loneliness and dysfunction and try once again to focus on my children as well as my writing to help speak out about the crazy world of addiction, dysfunction and parenting!<br />
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While I have never given up on my children, and they have always been my priority, I wrongly believed that my happiness is also important to giving me strength and posing as a positive role model. I see that my focus was wrong, I should not have wasted any time hoping for my personal happiness. At the end of the day, the more I pursued my own happiness the more negative messages I sent my children about life and the fairness of how we get treated or mistreated.<br />
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I wanted to be loved and to be desired. I wanted my children to witness that there is such a thing as happiness between two people and there are good men in the world. All I did was show them that their mother was hurt again. Their mother is emotionally weak because she gives all of herself yet gets very little in return. I showed them how I am willing to be disappointed and rejected time and time again. How much I cried and hurt, how much I hoped and prayed that this time he will show up and things will be different. My love life is irrelevant, it is non existent. I have never been in a loving relationship. I have never had a man who was truly in love with me and the two men I have loved never treated me the way I deserved. I have showed my children very bad examples. This is not even speaking of what messages I have ingrained in them that their mother married a man she was not in love with and stayed with despite all the emotional abuse and financial and personal control he ensued upon us all. I have shown them a mother who has always felt sad and unloved and always dreamed of a happily ever after that is just not in my destiny. I should accept that. Instead I should be showing my children that I am strong and do not need anyone in my life to make me happy or motivate me or help me, I should have shown them all these years that I am capable of creating my own happiness and creating a life worth living; however, I must first believe that myself.<br />
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I met a man who saw us all for what we were. He saw that all first before we developed our friendship. He offered his support in the chaotic lives of an addict and that of his mother and sisters. He wanted to be there for my son and lend a helping hand as it is his profession and he had connections. He wanted to help us with things that I could not afford or do by myself, such as repairs. He spent time with us all and unfortunately all my children liked him, so much, and my son actually said he would like it if we "got together". My youngest daughter thought he was wonderful and acted so relaxed around him. Even my middle daughter, the one who seems the most suspicious of relationships, love, men, etc, thought he was "a nice guy". He knew our pasts, our faults, our vulnerabilities, way before we become lovers. It was so easy, so right. Then things became complicated as his issues, his fears, his immaturity and his own insecurities and selfishness came into the equation. He no longer helped with repairs. He no longer came around as often as he did before. He no longer tried to help my son. There were many broken promises. Months of playing me like a yo-yo and of me being an emotional roller-coaster were seen by my daughters.. It has only reinforced everything negative that my kids already thought of people and I am sure they were only more disappointed in their mother's foolish, girlish romantic dreams of happiness. Instead of making my children believe that they are the most important things in my happiness, I showed them I was not happy enough unless I was loved by a man as well. STUPID! Seven years of no social life, no dating, no relationship, after years of a loveless and lonely marriage; in all those years I only focused on my children. What a mistake to think otherwise.<br />
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I can not even imagine how many confused and wrong messages I have unintentionally been sending my children that will only add to their dysfunctional beliefs in their already messed up existence.<br />
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My son in the meantime has been in the mental health inpatient ward for 6 weeks, is being evicted from his supported housing accommodation, been rejected help from all the other supported housing, slipped back into drugs and been arrested again for possession with intent to supply. I am trying all I can to help and assist him, but my first reaction to many of these dramas was "I wish I had my friend in my life to talk to about all this", he was my first <i>go to</i> for support and advice. My ex husband has rejected his son once again when he was told that he is "unable" to help if his son is made homeless. My son's grandparents have also said the same thing, but with the additional, "I am sure everything will work out" and gave him socks!!!<br />
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My house is falling apart and without my friend's promises to be here for me forever and help me repair all the damage that is still in my home from when my son lived here and had drug induced rages (now a constant reminder and I wanted them repaired for emotional healing more than for aesthetic reasons). I have a room that is closed off because the roof is rotting and therefore creating damp and mold in side the room. My "friend" was going to replace that roof for me in January! The fence is falling down, my side gate is broken (the gate was another thing he was going to help me with). So since the big problems can not be addressed, I have stopped maintaining the house all together. Another negative message that I am telling my children. Surely I should want their health and happiness to drive me to maintain my house for their happiness?<br />
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So now I will have to push myself to help my children, focus on them, focus on their surroundings, the messages I am sending them on their lives and futures so that they can have the best foundation and emotional health to start their own lives on their own. My own personal life is no longer an issue, I have learnt that very painfully. As hard as it will be because my own motivation and belief system is not as it should be.<br />
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Focus!<br />
I will write my blog to cleanse me and energize me. I will write my blog to organize my thoughts and emotions. I will write my blog to offer support and empathy to others in similar situations.<br />
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Focus!<br />
I will begin writing letters and emails and kick up as much as fuss as possible until I get my son housed. I will try all I can to seek help and advice and motivate him to do all he can to stop him from going to prison for his last arrest. I will love him and fill him with hope for HIS future.<br />
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Focus!<br />
I will try to encourage my daughter as she studies for her GCSE exams and praise her and encourage her to be all that she can be. No matter what my life's disappointments and failures, my inability to provide, that should not stop her from future education and she should travel and go to university and pursue her dreams.<br />
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Focus!<br />
My youngest is still an adorable little girl, who I have discovered lacks confidence and feels bad about herself. I will focus on her as well as she is the one who gets lost and neglected with all the other dramas that go on in our lives. I will spend more time with her, listen to her, play with her and love her and tell her how amazing she is to build her up rather than have all my failed attempts at life and happiness teach her that life is pointless.<br />
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Their lives are not pointless, so I will re focus on them and forget about me because my time has come and gone and I blew it...end of story...but their stories are just beginning.<br />
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Next post....I will focus once again on my son's journey through addiction.Susan Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06833812816177538263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2126466354260049587.post-22714742890289904842015-05-26T12:17:00.000-07:002015-05-26T12:17:16.844-07:00Love, love and more love.Not really focused on addiction today. Not really wanting to be logical or thought provoking about the way drugs and alcohol took over my family's life and all the repercussions of that. Nor do I want to intellectualise the possible reasons why my son or anyone becomes an addict. Tonight I just want to write. I want the cathartic process to help me purge my emotions and to allow the tears to flow smoothly and with purpose. I want to write about, love.<br />
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A range of loves have just came to my head as I write: parental, sibling, romantic, friendship, but also the love of self, the love of drugs and unhealthy love. I believe every human being is born needing to be loved and there is an abundance of research on how the lack of parental love in childhood has negative impact on cognitive, developmental, emotional and social/psychological growth. So from the beginning we need to feel the warmth and fulfilment love gives us the best start in life and if we don't we are more prone to having an onslaught of problems in life!<br />
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I have written in previous posts that al I wanted for as long as I can remember is to be a mother and when I discovered I was pregnant with my first child my first reaction was pure joy. It was very unfortunate that the baby's father did not share in my joy and most of my pregnancy was spent arguing. Despite the negativity and arguments, I loved, I mean I really <b>LOVED</b> being pregnant and carry my baby within my womb. I talked to my unborn child and messaged it as it moved about and felt intense happiness within myself at the knowledge that I was indeed going to fulfil one of my most precious dreams of becoming a mother, and nothing, not even the baby's father would take that away from me. It seems, through people I have met and stories I have heard, that sometimes having one "good", loving parent is enough while the other parent may be absent or is emotionally inadequate. However it may not be the case if one parent is emotionally abusive, though I tried to love my children and nurture them and stimulate their development as much as I could, maybe the "energy" of the house as well as the negative behaviour from their father made it so my love was not enough.<br />
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My first child was an unplanned pregnancy and caused a lot of conflict in our relationship. We did stay together and tried to make things work. Our little boy could not have been more perfect. He was loving and kind and good natured. He suffered no terrible twos or tantrums. He always held my hand and was a joy to be with. When there were moments when he had to be disciplined, he stood in his time out corner and always listened carefully to my explanations why he was having a time out. He was so full of love and positive energy and lust for life that I felt that his loved deserved to be shared and that he and his sibling would benefit from sharing his love. I always wanted a big family, but I never thought that possible and did not want that with my husband, but I felt that having a little brother or sister would be wonderful for my loving boy.<br />
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Our second child was our only planned child. It took a while but we did get pregnant and funnily enough I can not remember the exact moment I discovered I was pregnant like I do with my first. Perhaps that is because the first pregnancy is such a milestone or perhaps it is because the second pregnancy was somewhat clouded with worry when we discovered she had club feet and were told that that may be a sign of other developmental problems. Luckily there were no other genetic or developmental problems but it did make us worry.<br />
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Sibling love. It was there and it was good for a while, then as the years went on it changed and here we are now and those two have not spoken in 18 months now. I tried to love them both, both since I was the primary care giver to my son and the person he spent most of his time with, actually ALL of his time with, there was going to be some changes. Also with the added element of severe club feet to a new born, as well as regular physiotherapy and hospital appointments and surgeries, there was a lot of added stress.<br />
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A picture from the internet which resembled our baby's feet.<br />
<img src="http://www.seattlechildrens.org/uploadedimages/Seattle_Childrens/cmsassets/Images/clubfoot-lg.jpg" /><br />
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So for whatever reasons (extra stress, tense relationship between parents, increased resentments, lack of attention) those early days have impacted on all of our relationships with each other; however, in the beginning despite difficulties there <i style="font-weight: bold;">was </i>love between brother and sister.<br />
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As far as the relationship now, well obviously living with a chaotic drug addict and having mom's attentions being fully consumed by the problems she faced, has taken there toll on the brother sister relationship. That as well as the early stresses and that dad was not a loving and affectionate and involved father have created a sibling relationship which now seems devoid of all love.<br />
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The bonds that my two older children have with the youngest seems different again and each seem to have more love for her, yet my son seems to be more interested in pursuing a friendship with her than my middle daughter does.<br />
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In <a href="http://www.education.com/reference/article/influences-sibling-relationships/">http://www.education.com/reference/article/influences-sibling-relationships/</a> the author discuses a range of sibling issues as well as other relationships influencing sibling relationships, as well as only children. She says: "In homes where fathers are affectionate and helpful there are more positive sibling interactions. On the other hand, conflict between mother and each child is associated with increased sibling conflict". She goes on to say: "Children's personalities, social and cognitive skills, self concepts, values and sense of self protection from the outside world are influenced by their sibling relationships". So this type of love is different from the love we get from our parents but is very influential in our development and creating how we understand love and relationships and the world to work.<br />
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I am a die hard romantic, I have written about my feelings of true love more than once, and believe that much of my inner conflicts and feels of self doubt are due to the fact that I have been unsuccessful in finding true love. True love, romantic love is a very big part of the culture we live it, It is very commercialised and engrained in us from the first fairy tales we hear as small children. We grow up feeling the need to find that one special person out there. We also grow up feeling that is we don't have such love in our live that we are failures. I sometimes go through moments where I feel I have failed myself and also my children by not being able to find true love, yet on a deeper level it is not as simple as failing to find something I want, it is an emptiness that is created by the biological and physical as well as spiritual need to give and receive love. Human beings <i style="font-weight: bold;">need</i> love. They flourish in a loving environment and in loving relationships. People are better people when they are loved, it is that simple. When we are not, than we become bitter, self absorbed, negative, self hating and we begin to languish.<br />
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Friendship is a key factor to us as children, forming our identities and branching out into the world and leaving the close-knit unit of just our family that we had as infants, toddlers and young children. However, the role that friendship plays in our development in adolescents does not stop there. Friendship is vital to us as adults, especially if we come from less than loving families. Friendships offer us not only a special type of love but because we choose each other as friends, it is unique in its bond. We have similar interests and we like each other and we want to spend time together because friendship often give us a great deal of fun in our lives. On the other hand, we have all experienced the age old saying that you know who your friends are when the chips are down! When life throws us conflict and struggle from all angles we need the support from friends <i style="font-weight: bold;">especially</i> if we are single, in a dysfunctional relationship. and/or have poor family ties.<br />
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I often turn to music for comfort and release and I find if we aren't singing about love, then we are singing about friends or if neither than we are singing about getting high or drunk!<br />
There are so many songs about friendship! This song "Lean On Me" popped into my head last night after not hearing it for many years and the lyrics are very poignant:<br />
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Sometimes in our lives<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />We all have pain, we all have sorrow<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />But if we are wise<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />We know that there's always tomorrow<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Lean on me when you're not strong<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />And I'll be your friend, I'll help you carry on<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />For it won't be long<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />'Til I'm gonna need somebody to lean on<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Please, swallow your pride<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />If I have things you need to borrow<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />For no one can fill those of your needs<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />That you won't let show<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />You just call on me, brother, when you need a hand<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />We all need somebody to lean on<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />I just might have a problem that you'll understand<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />We all need somebody to lean on<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Lean on me when you're not strong<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />And I'll be your friend, I'll help you carry on<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />For it won't be long<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />'Til I'm gonna need somebody to lean on<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />You just call on me, brother, when you need a hand<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />We all need somebody to lean on<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />I just might have a problem that you'll understand<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />We all need somebody to lean on<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />If there is a load<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />You have to bear that you can't carry<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />I'm right up the road, I'll share your load<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />If you just call me</div>
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<small style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 11.3900003433228px;">Writer(s): Bill Withers<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Copyright: Interior Music Corp.</small><span style="font-size: 13.3999996185303px; line-height: 19.1428565979004px;"> </span></div>
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In times of sorrow, pain or when we are lost and confused, we need a friend to lean on. We need the support of our friends. Our friends will remind us that no matter what, they will still be there and just as importantly, that a true friend will in turn be there for you despite their own problems. We do not need to feel weak or ashamed that we have "lost face" or are incapable of fixing our own problems, we are not in the least. I think that when we are "brave" enough to go to our friends with our demons then we are showing how much we love and respect our friends that we trust them. We are also opening ourselves to them and showing that we trust the friendship that we can put ourselves in a vulnerable position, "bearing our soul" if you like. I know we all have friends that serve a purpose, friends who are specific to certain situations, acquaintances etc, but while talking about friendship I refer to the real and true, tried and tested friendships that we may have, may only have one of, some of us may have had and lost or some of us are still hoping for. Our friends will not fix our problems, that is not what we want or need, sometimes we do not even ask for advise, we just want and need support, an ear to listen, a shoulder to cry on or sometimes we just want to go to our friends and let lose and have a bit of fun so that we can feel rejuvenated and refreshed and energised so that we can face our problems as a stronger person. Friendship, reciprocal and supportive friendship is like gold to us. If you are lucky enough to find love <i style="font-weight: bold;">AND</i> friendship, then you have found the whole pot of gold!<br />
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<img src="http://www.goodlightscraps.com/content/friendship-scraps/friendship-32.jpg" /><br />
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The irony of love is that sometimes we need to have experienced being loved in a healthy way in a healthy home to be able to find healthy love later in life , but people who grew up in loveless or dysfunctional homes and who need love most, do not have the skills to find or maintain healthy and loving relationships/friendships. That is when we often turn to "things" to make us "happy" or actually to make us<b style="font-style: italic;"> forget </b>that we are feeling unhappy and unloved. "Things" such as: drugs, alcohol, food, shopping (retail <i>therapy</i>), money and status, just about anything that makes us feel good <i style="font-weight: bold;">temporarily</i>. If we did not experience healthy love, we sometimes are attracted to people who are unhealthy for us, treating us in ways we should not be treated yet because it is a familiar feeling and it helps "prove" our self fulfilling prophesy that we are "unworthy" and do not deserve to find happiness. This is way so many people stay in co dependent relationships, do not seek help if they are suffering from a dysfunctional family relationship or allow people to use them as objects of ridicule rather than including them in peer groups, or to be controlled by others. I can understand when my son says he <b>LOVES </b>drugs because in fact since his childhood he has had very little successful relationships within the family and in school and in friendships and he has never experienced any form of romantic love. So if he takes opiates that give him that "warm, fuzzy hug from inside" then, yes, he would want that again and again. If he has many unpleasant and unhappy memories and taking dissociative and sedative drugs help blur his reality and impair his memory, then yes, he will want to use them again. The longer he relies on substances, the harder he will be able to create happiness without them, for obvious social and psychological reasons, but also from a brain chemistry point of view because the opiate receptors will rewire his brain so that pleasure will be associated with opiates rather than other "happiness". It will be a long process for my son to find other forms of love, to believe in love, to rewire his pleasure and happiness receptors, to trust others and make himself vulnerable. The reward would be friendship, love and happiness,that is the ultimate goal.<br />
<img src="http://images5.fanpop.com/image/photos/27000000/peace-love-and-happiness-peace-love-and-happiness-27065534-500-302.jpg" /><br />
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So the bottom line wont come as a surprise to anyone, we all <b>NEED </b>to be loved from infancy throughout our entire life. Though our needs change and the types of relationships that give us love change, we all ultimately function better and thrive when we are loved and can love in a healthy and open way. We do not need to fear what love and friendship offer us, because it does not make us weaker or insignificant or shamed. We can still be true to ourselves and be responsible for ourselves but gain support and energy and respite from turning to those we love in times of chaos and conflict.<br />
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It may sound simple, but like another great song says, "<b><i><u>love is all</u></i></b><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"> you need </u>" and everything else will fall into place!<br />
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Susan Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06833812816177538263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2126466354260049587.post-33145659313294774382015-05-21T02:38:00.000-07:002015-05-21T02:38:32.555-07:00Simple VictoriesYesterday was a good day for my son and so today I will try to focus on the positives, rather than the negatives which is all too easy to do when living with addiction, mental illness and dysfunction.<br />
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One of the consequences of both my son's addiction and mental disorientation and anxiety has been the poor management of his limited funds, resulting in escalating bank charges. We all know what a vicious circle this can be: not enough money in the bank, unintentionally being overdrawn, results in bank charges, resulting in less money and so on and so on. This had become so bad for my son that he was being charged £58 a month from the bank and his incoming is only £72 fortnightly. The longer this went on, the more stress and anxiety it created. The initial discussion with the bank did not go well and more confusion and lost letters and hiding from the problem continued. The levels of anxiety were so bad that it created panic attacks and in fact some of my son's delusions during his psychotic episode were around money and banks calling the police on him.<br />
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<img src="http://www.creditcards.com/credit-card-news/images/blown-away.jpg" /><br />
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Since becoming more lucid it is obvious that the two man fears of my son is his poverty and fear of the bank as well as his housing situation and fear of homelessness. It is something we have discussed with the staff at the mental health unit he is in and they have offered to write letters explaining his vulnerability and poor mental health if needed.<br />
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On a few occasions when I have taken my son out for a few hours we had planned to go into town and his flat and try to deal with some issues, but it always created such fear, anxiety and anger within him that we could not continue. Yesterday was a different story though. Together we went into the bank and my son said he only wants to go in and tell the bank he has lost his new bank card but still has his old bank card and would like to know if his old one is still active and also what is his balance. Upon investigation it was discovered that my son only ever had one bank card and never received a second one and that the one he has in indeed active and always has been. This confused my son, but I was secretly thinking, this is actually a good thing because it does illustrate his blurred reality. He was happy he had a card that worked and was all set to say thank you and good bye when I spoke up that there is one more thing they could help us with!<br />
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I told the woman who was helping us about the bank charges and my son's ongoing problem with managing his money and that he is not in education or employment, lives in supported housing and has mental health issues which has ended him up in our local mental health hospital which he is still in and if there is something that can be done to stop further charges and possibly come to an arrangement where we can pay off the charges in smaller increments rather than taking it all and living him without enough left over. She was very sympathetic and said she would go see if one of their advisors could speak to us. I knew that if we went into the bank with the plan to do this my son would become too anxious and when faced with it in front of others "on the spot" so to speak, it would be easier for him to manage.<br />
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We spoke to a lovely and understanding young man, and reading in between the lines of his comments, he has had his own personal experience with mental health issues and straight away got busy on his computer and told us he would explain everything when he finished. While working on my son's account we chatted a little and he was telling my son that his mental well being is priority for him and he does not need to be stressing about bank charges, I was hopeful that he would be able to help but was not expecting the end result when he finished! My son and I were blown away when he explained to us that there was £57 of charges being taken from his account today but he stopped that. If that were not enough he refunded the last two months of charges so in total he refunded £171 into my son's account! He also made a note in his diary to check my son's account weekly to make sure that no more charges are taken and that he stays in credit. He gave my son his direct number and name and told him to call or pop in whenever need be. Most importantly he continued to reassure my son that his emotional well being was paramount and that hopefully without this added worry hanging over his head he can focus more on his recovery. My son was so grateful, I have not seem him smile so big and so genuinely in a very long time! My son shook his hand and told this lovely man, "Thank you. I mean thank you, I am not thanking the bank, I am thanking <i style="font-weight: bold;">you</i>!". That made us all smile.<br />
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<img height="295" src="http://images.bigbrotherbot.net/thankyou.jpg" width="320" /><br />
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Earlier that day I encouraged my son to ask staff if he can see the worker from One Support (a floating support service offering help with housing, preventing homelessness and trying to increase life skills). My son said he did not have an appointment, and since this person only comes onto the ward once a week (Wednesdays) he probably couldn't talk to him and he just wants to go out. I gently persisted that he just ask and if he was indeed fully booked, he could ask to see him next week. My son gave me the classic, "yeah, yeah, ok" response. I was not convinced that he would.<br />
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As agreed I went to pick him up after lunch and when I got there I was told he will be a while because he was speaking to Brian from One Support. Great! Of course I will wait, well done I thought! So I was kept entertained by one of the other patients having almost the exact conversation I have with her all the time! The conversation usually revolves around cigarettes and will I buy her some. My son came out and we said our hellos and goodbyes and left. Once in the car he told me that Brian had phoned the manager at the supported housing in which my son is being evicted from and put some difficult questions unto the manager! Good, glad to hear it! Brian will also see if he can get a referral made to another supported housing which offers help to people with mental health issues, which is actually very near to my home. Again, good, glad to hear that as well! Brian also told my son not to worry because eviction generally takes 4 weeks and it will go to court and the court may indeed over rule the eviction giving the circumstances and that my son was not actually breaking any rules of his tenancy! Exactly, glad to hear someone is actually up to speed on things and offering my son some support. Let us hope that he gets a place in this housing scheme which offers a higher level of support and that the eviction does not go forward or get accepted so that my son does not have on his permanent record with the council that he has been evicted from a housing project.<br />
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All in all a good day really. Small victories in some ways, but very big ones in other ways.<br />
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<img src="http://cdn.someecards.com/someecards/filestorage/small-victories-workplace-ecard-someecards.jpg" /><br />
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And for me, well I still feel like I have contributed to having messed up kids with big problems to deal with and we have to deal with them alone (again something I am responsible for) but at the end of the day, I can not change that now. I have tried and failed over and over and over again to help my children and provide for them a happy existence. I have failed myself in providing the lifestyle that I would have liked and have failed to provide a loving and nurturing family that consists of more than just one very over wrought mother. And I have failed in realising my dreams and finding love and friendship with someone who will be there for me when I need them to be. But then sometimes I feel the joy of a small victory! Sometimes I am awestruck by people's random acts of kindness! Sometimes I have a moment in which I do feel loved. And sometimes thanks largely to these other small and infrequent moments, I become more hopeful in the future and believe, even if just briefly, that things will indeed work out for us. I must remember the good times with special friends and of course my children, because there have been good times and I have spent time with good people. Everyone has their battles and as I believe and always have, we have to be there for others while they are suffering even if we are suffering in our own battles. We can not become consumed in only our problems, we are always capable of giving, that is part of the beauty of being human!<br />
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<br />Susan Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06833812816177538263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2126466354260049587.post-85618943571781739282015-05-20T04:23:00.000-07:002015-05-20T04:42:04.138-07:00BrokenOnce again my son is struggling with the chaos of the system. Nearly three weeks ago he suffered another psychosis; i.e. a combination of hallucinations and delusional thinking which alters perception, thinking, emotion and behaviour. This again was proceeded by a seizure, but not all of his seizures resulted in a psychotic episode. The seizures themselves have never been investigated or explained and the psychotic episodes of the past have been "explained" as delirium tremens (vary unlikely given the total break with reality he had at that time and the relatively short period of time he was drinking heavily) to possible kidney infection and even epilepsy! These were all possibilities based on nothing other than the attending doctor's theory at the time. Of course whenever any of the seizures or psychotic breaks resulted in hospitalization, once my son gained clarity of thought and discussed his background with any of the nurses or doctors assessing him, the answer to "have you been using or have you used in the past any drugs" stopped any need for more assessments. The word "drugs" and in fact even "alcohol" can stop the medical and mental health professionals in their tracks, because their minds have then been made up that the sole case for every symptom is due to present or previous drug usage.<br />
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<img src="http://graphics8.nytimes.com/packages/images/arts/tv/House_patient.jpg" /><br />
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On this occasion, as with many of the others, I was the first to notice my son was not quite right and it was the early signs of an episode. Luckily I had no problems getting him into my car to go to the hospital. However, there were a few issues getting him ready; e.g. he thought the salt container was his keys, a piece of paper was his shoe and he was struggling to get it on his foot and so on. During the car journey there I am surprised I could retain my composure and continue to drive as my son tried to stand up from the passenger seat and tried to "walk out" through the back seat.<br />
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Those 9 hours of waiting with him in the hospital emergency room, until he was placed on the ward of the mental health unit were very difficult for me. To sit with a loved one, your first born child, watching him have imaginary conversations and trying to fill up an asthma vaporiser with water and at times not knowing where he was, is a heartbreaking and emotionally exhausting experience. The emotional strain is even greater when you are faced with such an ordeal on your own and you are also aware that you have left your other children at home alone for hours on end with no way of knowing when you will be home. Being alone with only a handful of local friends is difficult and I do not always find it easy to reach out to people for support because the friendships may not be long standing ones or indeed you may want a certain type of comfort or support only certain types of friendships can give. I luckily had two people to txt who lived close by to get some food to my daughters as we had nothing home and no money in the house. For my own moral support, I took a leap of faith and reached out because I really needed to be comforted, unfortunately I got none. I understand that people are busy and have their plans in progress on a Saturday evening, but the situation with my son would clearly not be a matter of a day, but a lengthy ordeal and I am still very much alone. To make matters worse when I did finally get home, I had to face "normality" and the mess left for mom to clean up and not really being able to talk to my daughters about what happened. Firstly because my youngest is too young and secondly my other daughter still harbours so much resentment towards her brother she can not put that aside for a moment to offer her mother a bit of comfort. So I go home and felt very much alone with no one offering me a hug, a drink or something to eat. How utterly selfish of me I guess, yet, I would offer my help to anyone I loved regardless of my own feelings. Why is this so emotional for me, that it causes tears to flow as I write? It is not as if my life has been any different than now for the past 20 years. It is not as if I have ever been loved deeply by anyone other than those who are blood related to me. It is not as if my life has ever been easy. So why am I so sad, why is it not just the status quo and I can manage to deal with things without the unnecessary complication of sadness and loneliness? I must be damaged or just not meant for this world, this society, this life.<br />
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I digress, sorry! So the relatively good news is that my son had no drugs or alcohol in his system upon getting to the hospital and all drug tests came back negative. So that has helped things being looked at a bit more seriously, as to just how seriously, that remains to be seen. We are nearly three weeks into his hospitalization and as yet the weekly reviews with the psychiatrist focuses mainly on medication, but also how my son is feeling. Luckily, because my son has developed such a high tolerance for many substances, the medication doses are not enough to sedate him as perhaps other patients seem to be. Also even though he was fortunate enough not to have any drugs or alcohol in his system, he was still using both as and when he could. If he would not have been in the hospital these past 19 days, there is no way he could have stayed away from alcohol, substances or over doing his prescribed medication for this long because he would have <i style="font-weight: bold;">believed</i> he <i style="font-weight: bold;">needed</i> it or he would get a seizure! Maybe the longer he stays in there he may just start <i style="font-weight: bold;">believing</i> that, in fact, he <i style="font-weight: bold;">does't NEED </i>to use or over medicate! However, that is not to say my son is not an addict and he will still need to face his addictive tendencies and find healthier ways to cope with his emotions and stressors. I take my son out of the unit about 4-5 times a week and unfortunately now that he is quite lucid, he often wants and does get a drink while he is out, because the belief is still there that that one beer will somehow <i style="font-weight: bold;">help </i>him. I will let him have one small or average bottle of beer, but on a particularly upsetting afternoon when he tried to buy a 750 ml bottle of 6.6% Leffe beer, (mind you we were only going to out of the hospital for an hour) I had to put my foot down and start giving him ultimatums. It worked and he put it back, however his mood towards me was not "good".<br />
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Unfortunately, my son in this short time of hospitalization has been rejected, once again, by his father, witnessed the resuscitation of another patient when discovered after attempting to hang himself, the confirmation that his only friend and relative is me, as well as being told that in light of this hospitalization he will be indeed evicted from his supported housing scheme because they can not offer him the level of support he needs. Well done! Good support strategies! Though I was at first relieved that he is at least "safe" while on the unit, now I see that they are not really that safe at all from harming themselves. And while I thought that a hospital stay on a mental health unit without any drugs and alcohol in his system would help his housing situation, in fact it has damaged it and now we have the fear of homelessness one again! This kid never seems to get a break! Life does not seem to improve for any of us, and I feel ultimately responsible. A woman who can not support children financially, a woman who has failed in her own life to successfully create a loving and supportive family, a woman who is clearly unwanted, a woman who has children who are addicts and self harmers is one fucked up person and clearly had no right to bring three children into her lonely and messed up life. The world is not lacking in dysfunctional human beings, and it seems that I have added to the global force of messed up individuals.<br />
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<img src="https://p.gr-assets.com/540x540/fit/hostedimages/1390448075/8214999.jpg" /><br />
<br />Susan Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06833812816177538263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2126466354260049587.post-59081333964262029102015-05-06T14:13:00.002-07:002015-05-06T14:13:35.413-07:00"ADDICT"Sometimes I feel like I am the addict as well as my son. Not because I feel the addictive urges, nor because I vicariously feel how he feels as an addict, because I can not know how he feels. I say this because I feel the stigma. I feel the frustration. I feel people's lack of faith or interest in offering help. I feel the emotional roller-coaster. I share the fear of what tomorrow holds. I feel the pointlessness of it all. I feel the intense isolation. I feel the pain of being misunderstood. I feel the need to make it all go away. I feel the <b><i>insanity</i>. </b><br />
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<b> </b><img src="https://media3.giphy.com/media/9u3gBJV436Wsg/200_s.gif" /><br />
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Despite years of seeking help and being involved in many services, I feel discouraged. Despite having a few friends I can count on one hand, I feel alone. Despite loving my children, I feel I have failed them all as well as myself. Despite trying, I feel like giving up. Despite feeling like giving up, I keep on trying and <i style="font-weight: bold;">hoping</i>, then I feel like giving up again. Despite loving a handful of people (which includes my three children) I feel like running away and being alone, then I am sad at feeling alone and want to be loved. I want a fix. I want euphoria. I want love. I want happiness and I want it <b>NOW</b>.<br />
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Is there something wrong with me that I believe in giving people a chance and being there for them 100% but I also believe that sometimes those who give also need to be given some love and support and belief? I believe in love and friendship and that we can help each other. So when I sit in a meeting regarding my son's potential eviction because society does not have any room for individuals with tortured souls who can not conform to society, I loose belief and feel like it is not only my son but myself as well who is being punished and ostracised with the throw away label of "druggie" as if that label dehumanizes the human who is suffering. "We do not like to evict young people who have no where else to go and no other housing project will take. We are concerned that you will have no where to sleep since the homeless shelter will not assist you because you are in arrears; however, sometimes we have no alternative. If you can change than we will reconsider". I want to scream while I sit calmly and try to express myself in a civilised manner that they are not "supporting" my son at all because they are judging him on past or current drug and alcohol misuse issues! I feel ostracised and judged and unsupported and betrayed. If <i style="font-weight: bold;">I </i> feel these feelings, how on earth must my "druggie" son feel? How must any addict feel?<br />
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<img src="http://www.bestforfilm.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/03/HighlightHero25.jpg" /><br />
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I am a parent of a drug addict. What we often hear as parents or loved ones is that the addict must come forward and ask for the help and "<i style="font-weight: bold;">engage"</i>, and that sometimes the addict must first hit rock bottom. In the meantime everyone seems to turn their backs on the addict who is indeed an addict but is suffering and does not know how to deal with life. Maybe I am a hopeless hippy who truly believes in peace, love and happiness in a non hippy world and maybe that is the reason for my constant cognitive dissonance but I can not change who I am....though I would love to change the world!<br />
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I seek support, I seek advise, I seek understanding. To illustrate my dissatisfaction with it all, let me use a little incident that occurred during a large support group meeting. Three separate groups were brought together to listen to the manager of a local drug and alcohol support service to talk to the parents of young people with drug and alcohol misuse issues. While doing a great PR presentation of all that their service provide (mind you, the parents are being sold this wonderful dream of recovery, but we are told we can not <i style="font-weight: bold;">force</i> our children to "engage".....talk about dangling the carrot in front of the rabbit!) I made a comment on how my son differs in a certain "typical" behaviour of addicts. This "professional" looked at me and simply said in front of these other parents, "sometimes we just pull the short straw". Thank you, Mrs Drugs Recovery professional. I have pulled the short straw when it comes to one of my children. Excellent. Should we just give up now then? Is that what you are telling me in your professional opinion? What does she tell the addict who comes in frustrated and broken and rejected and desperately wanting change yet suffering relapse after relapse? "Sorry you poor pathetic excuse for a human being, we don't help the short straws here"<br />
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<img alt="Image result for short straw" 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" /><br />
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Currently my son is in the psychiatric ward, once again. How many times has my son lost sense of reality? How many hospital visits has he had? Does the hospital look at his records and try to work out what has been going on the past year? No they do not. Do they seem concerned that each time it happened there were different interpretations of why it was happening? In the first incident we were written off with the dismissive, "it is alcohol withdrawal", to "it is from his kidneys not working properly due to lack of his self care in eating and drinking sufficiently" (but what led to his inability to look after himself), to "it maybe due to undiagnosed epilepsy", and of course the "its unexplained but more than likely due to his drug usage in the past and or present".<br />
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Am I expecting too much for some medical professionalism? When I brought my son into the hospital it took the ER doctor a few minutes to see that me son was not in his right mind and could not follow basic requests and could not answer questions appropriately. Waiting several more hours for a psych evaluation from a "crisis team worker/nurse" he too quickly assessed that my son had lost his grip with reality and experiencing things that we were not. That resulted in finally being admitted to the psych ward, approximately 12 hours after we first arrived to the hospital. In all that time my son's records were not produced, he received no care or medication. In the 72 hours that followed my son saw no doctor. When the appointment with the psychiatrist (and 3 other members of staff) finally took place, which I attended, he knew nothing of my son's past admissions, my son was coherent but anxious yet able to communicate sensibly. So this doctor did not see my son when he was hallucinating and not in our reality. The doctor did not take the time to assess the situation by reviewing the patients notes. The discussion started with, "Do you know why you are here?". I almost retorted with, "Do <i style="font-weight: bold;">YOU </i>know why he is here?" It quickly digressed into a discussion about generalised anxiety and also continued questions and remarks regarding drug and alcohol issues. Never was it discussed why he may have lost his sense of reality, nor was it discussed how this has happened on more than one occasion. I sat there feeling smaller and smaller and in the end I could swear I nearly just shut off while looking at the doctor looking like a caricature with a speech bubble saying "blah, blah, blah"So who is crazy? My son, the doctor or me? I think I may be the crazy one! I had a very strong urge to loudly speak out, "This is Bullshit! One does not hallucinate and is unable to identify simple objects and talk to imaginary people simply because one is anxious about things".<br />
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<img src="https://s3.amazonaws.com/lowres.cartoonstock.com/law-order-doctor-hospitals-gp-incorrect_diagnosis-stab-haan17_low.jpg" /><br />
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For me it is so difficult to watch, to understand, alone. I never have anyone to hold my hand though I hold my son's hand and care for my daughters as well. I never have anyone to give me an understanding hug when I go home after 9 hours of sitting with my child who can not string a sentence together. At home my son is a taboo subject most times. My middle child looks at me as if I were the bad one if I mention his name, as if I should not support a drug addict regardless of the fact that he is my son. I go home, barely speaking myself and carry on with life as "normal" but I want to cry and I want to be comforted.<br />
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So we are back to where I began this post, I feel like I am the addict at times but I do not have a drug to make all the suffering go away, even if only temporarily. I feel agitated, depressed, lost, alone, misunderstood, angry, hurt, labelled, used, pathetic and craving something to make it all better but there is nothing for me except hope and longing for things to change.<br />
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<b><br /></b>Susan Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06833812816177538263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2126466354260049587.post-22185345147844765032015-04-17T03:11:00.000-07:002015-05-21T12:12:48.043-07:00My Son's Love Affair With Opinum<div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #1f1f1f; font-family: 'Droid Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 24.2857151031494px; margin-bottom: 10.5px;">
Not everyone dreams of someday becoming a parent, and in fact not everyone should be a parent in my opinion. Not all parents strive to bring up happy and well adjusted children when they do become parents. I was one of those young girls who dreamed of becoming a mommy and I would often say to my mother, "when I grow up, I want to be a good mommy, just like you." Those dreams did not fade as I grew. I continued to dream of having children, six in fact, and being the best mother I could be. In fact, I think my dreams of becoming a mother were greater than any dream of getting married! I did not dream of the big white dress and all the goes with it on my "big" day, for surely, giving birth would be a far greater day?</div>
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What do we as young women and young mothers dream for our children? Well, I suppose everyone's dreams are slightly different, but I am sure those who do dream of the joys of bringing up children all want their children to be happy and healthy and as well adjusted as possible. Parents, both mothers and fathers, who embrace their role as parents do not wish for their children to feel undue pain or suffering, we want to spare them any misfortunes that we possibly can and help them to have access to as many positive opportunities as possible. Ultimately, we want them to have more than we did; even if we had good childhoods, we still want our children's lives to be somewhat better than our own.<br />
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I read the other day that no child aspires to grow up to be an addict and indeed, we as parents who want the best for our children, do not wish for our children to grow up to be addicts. Even parents who may have had or have addiction problems, or have witnessed it within their families, do not want that same future for their children. In their heart they hope that maybe genetics do not play a role, maybe this time things will be different—any hope that their child will not experience the suffering an addict experiences. No one dreams, "when I grow up, I want to be an addict."</div>
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The other day while once again trying to discuss the future with my son and trying my best to continue to plant the seed in his mind that rehab would be a good option (I will continue to attempt to plant that seed until, hopefully, one day that seed will take root and start to grow and he can sow the benefits of it), my son said something that remains with me: "I want to marry opium and our children would be Quaaludes and I would be a happy man." This was in response to my suggesting that one day his life will be different and he will fall in love etc. My son has already met the love of his life, drugs. He has no intention at the moment of being unfaithful to her, and in fact, though he may not always be as devoted to her as he would like, he still believes she holds the key to his happiness.</div>
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How can any of my ideas of a happy, healthy, straight living life compete with what my son believes to be the love of his life? In addition to the fact that he has experienced the warm fuzzy feeling his love gives him, that wonderful warm hug from within, he has never experienced anything else. I may talk a good talk and keep a positive outlook, but at the end of the day he looks at me and sees a woman with no man to love, a failed marriage with an emotionally abusive man and father. I am unemployed and living on the edge of poverty. In his eyes what has become of my dreams and my positive outlook for a good tomorrow? In his own words, he would rather be near comatose on his drugs than have to struggle with real life, the way I do.<br />
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My son, though dedicated to his main love of opium, can not indulge in her since that would result in positive drug testing and on his court drug rehabilitation order that would not have positive consequences. So he has to resort to getting anything else as a substitute and unfortunately drink is easy to come by but does not deliver the same satisfaction. Benzodiazepines are his second love, and very easy to access legally over the internet, but he does not always have the funds to maintain the level of "happiness" he needs. So now he has purchased Diethyl Ether and 1,4-Butanediol, sometimes referred to One Comma Four, or One Four Bee. Yesterday he said he has been feeling rather ill with terrible stomach pains, well I think the One Four Bee may have something to do with it! As we spoke he started begging me for money for a drink, but I had to be firm and say no, 1, because I am sincerely broke as well, and 2, because I cannot continue to succumb to his demands for money. He was walking the streets while on the phone to me and telling me, once again, how is is looking through the public trash and parks for left over cans of beer to drink. He shared with me the story of drinking a can of beer he found, and then he was surprised when he received a slug along with the beer in his mouth! I of course know that all this was for my benefit to provoke fear and guilt in me so that I may miraculously find some money for him, but at the same time it did cause me sincere concern regarding his health because of the germs and infectious diseases he is exposing himself to.</div>
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So, I am left where I began, dreaming of a better future for my son and hoping that one day I can start to forget this nightmare that my son is living and that he can move forward and find new and wonderful things to love. No one ever dreams of becoming an addict and no parent expects that for their children. At the moment my son's dreams still revolve around drugs and denial and avoidance. It seems that changing one's dreams is almost as hard as changing one's reality, especially when his dream is still to spend his future with the love of his life, opium.</div>
Susan Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06833812816177538263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2126466354260049587.post-68349371631503657722014-11-29T15:16:00.000-08:002015-04-17T03:37:14.349-07:00Breaking the Dysfunctional Family Cycle<span style="font-family: inherit;">As many who have read my past posts know, I am a divorced parent. A woman who lived in a relatively loveless marriage brought on by circumstances. Though we did have our moments when life seemed to be ok and even a little enjoyable, we had many more down times and as the years went on the bitterness and resentment grew along with the level of dysfunction and emotional damage. As I have </span>been<span style="font-family: inherit;"> dealing with the fallout of this "failed" marriage, I often think that I should have left years before because staying together for the kids or because you feel trapped or because the alternative seems to be worse doesn't work, and guess </span>what<span style="font-family: inherit;">? I think that children are extremely </span>intuitive<span style="font-family: inherit;"> that they will sense a false marriage and be affected by that far more so than a "failed" marriage. They will not only grow up with a false reality that may make them question many things as adults, but they will also base their idea of relationships on a faulty and dysfunctional model, which will in turn make it more difficult to maintain healthy adult relationships in the future. As parents we think that our children will grow up in the false security of <i>staying together for the kids </i>type of marriage, and will be thankful and grateful when they are adults for sacrificing themselves for the children. Actually, that too is exactly the opposite type of role model we want for our children, someone who is false and untrue to themselves. In fact, I think that most children from such fake </span>households<span style="font-family: inherit;"> will grow up and feel resentful at being lied to. </span><br />
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In this excerpt from <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2014/mar/30/divorce-children-parenting-conscious-uncoupling-gwyneth-paltrow-chris-martin">http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2014/mar/30/divorce-children-parenting-conscious-uncoupling-gwyneth-paltrow-chris-martin</a> the author is correct in saying that "unhappy parents make for unhappy offspring"<span style="font-family: inherit;"> : <span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;">Dr Penelope Leach has been a passionate defender of babies and children since the 1970s. But she is no upholder of the idea that adults should stay together regardless of the measure of misery; unhappy parents make for unhappy offspring. "Divorce and separation is a safety valve for marriage and cohabitation," she tells me. "And society cannot do without one." So when the break occurs she advocates what she calls "mutual parenting". It doesn't have the slightly sexual, semi-spiritual, yogic-infused ring of "</span><a class=" u-underline" data-component="in-body-link" data-link-name="in body link" href="http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2014/mar/26/gwyneth-paltrow-chris-martin-goop-conscious-uncoupling-template" style="-webkit-transition: border-color 0.15s ease-out; background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border-bottom-color: rgb(220, 220, 220); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 0.0625rem; color: #005689; cursor: pointer; font-family: 'Guardian Text Egyptian Web', Georgia, serif; line-height: 24px; text-decoration: none !important; transition: border-color 0.15s ease-out;" title="">conscious decoupling</a><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;">" but it amounts to something similar, albeit with the celebrity varnish scraped away.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 24px;">Another article in The Guardian, <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2014/nov/24/divorce-bad-for-children-lets-not-fetishise-marriage-parents-children">http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2014/nov/24/divorce-bad-for-children-lets-not-fetishise-marriage-parents-children</a> also states that parents who stayed together for the kids until they were a little older, actually did more harm to the children: "</span></span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;">Some of the most messed-up kids I have seen are precisely those of couples who waited until they went off to university to divorce. It meant that their entire childhood and adolescence had been a kind of lies."</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 24px;">I think I should have left my husband years before I did instead of remaining in the co dependant relationship and feeling as if I needed to be a martyr. If I had done so, I believe that our son would have been far less damaged and may not have had as much emotional pain that was one of the driving factors for his need to escape through drug use. My sister often says to me that if I did, I would not have had my other two children, who I could not imagine life without. However, I believe that I may have had more children with </span></span><span style="line-height: 24px;">someone</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 24px;"> else after leaving and my children would not have been the same as the ones I have now, but I still would have had them. Not only is my son a drug addict but he is also very angry at me that I stayed with his father for so long. My son and my middle child both have very cynical views about relationships and neither say they ever want to have children (I know they are very young and their ideas may change as they grow). I also wonder how all the </span></span><span style="line-height: 24px;">subtle</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 24px;"> messages that our children surely picked up on while my ex husband and I were together will affect their future relationships. My son has very skewed ideas of relationships i.e. you need a man of the house, children need strict </span></span><span style="line-height: 24px;">discipline</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 24px;">, men are aggressive, men make the decisions etc.. Though this was not what he necessarily </span></span><i style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">saw</i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 24px;"> while growing up, these are the unspoken ideas of his father and our son picked up on his father's true feelings.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 24px;">My husband and I were very unhappy, but it was not a physically violent relationship and though he was very controlling and somewhat emotionally abusive to me, it was done in a very indirect way and his control was there without having to be "in your face". We did not yell and scream very often at each other, but the tension was always there and could be felt by others. My ex husband's actions and emotional numbness were also very powerful tools in his establishing power over us. He was very emotionally abusive to our son and those were the times when there was lots of shouting. When it came to our second child he wanted to destroy her wild spirit and lust for life by constantly telling her not to do the things she was doing and </span></span><span style="line-height: 24px;">threatening</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 24px;"> her with punishments. My ex husband did not know how to communicate and would not be chatty with us, he reserved this for nights out with his male friends when his friendliness would come alive after a few drinks.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 24px;">Our two older children have been very affected by the way they were raised in an unhappy marriage and most of the influences were due to </span></span><span style="line-height: 24px;">subtle</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 24px;"> behaviours, unspoken words, decisions that were made, the lack of love and affection between their parents, tensions, frustrations, avoidance etc. It was not the </span></span><span style="line-height: 24px;">stereotypically</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 24px;"> </span></span><span style="line-height: 24px;">portrayed</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 24px;"> bad marriage, but it did </span></span><span style="line-height: 24px;">consists</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 24px;"> of lies and guilt and feelings of obligations and sacrifices. All those unspoken feelings and emotions were picked up on fully by our little sponges, for that's what children are, sponges and </span></span><span style="line-height: 24px;">intuitive</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 24px;"> sponges they are!</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 24px;">Some of these ideas I have that a </span><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">FALSE</u><span style="line-height: 24px;"> marriage is much more detrimental to children are penned in the following article in a nice and concise manner:</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;"><a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/03/01/divorce-kids-_n_4862357.html">http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/03/01/divorce-kids-_n_4862357.html</a></span><br />
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I can understand though how if the marriage is unhappy and false, with the idea of "staying together for the kids" but <i style="font-weight: bold;">ALSO </i>burdened with one partner having any mental, emotional or substance misuse issues, the guilt and the feelings of obligation to stay becomes so much stronger. My ex-husband was physically and emotionally abused as a child, My husband also had alcohol issues, I still believe him to be a "functioning" alcoholic. These elements create a profoundly strong co dependent relationship which makes it even more difficult to leave and clouds our judgement as to what is ultimately the best decision for the children.<br />
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This link explains the "signs" of a co dependant marriage, and as co dependency is indeed a learnt behaviour, staying in a co dependant marriage has all the negative implication I have already discussed, but has the added ingredient of teaching your children to be in co dependant relationship! Who wants their kids to learn that? I don't and another reason why I wish I would have left earlier.<br />
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<a href="http://www.wikihow.com/Tell-if-You-Are-Codependent">http://www.wikihow.com/Tell-if-You-Are-Codependent</a><br />
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We can not <i style="font-weight: bold;">fix</i> our partners, and I made the mistake of thinking I could fix my ex because I felt sorry for all he had been through and felt responsible to help him. Wake up, no one can do that!<br />
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Sometimes being true to our inner selves and recognising that bringing up children in a marriage devoid of love and passion and mutual respect will ultimately create more problems for them, is a very hard step to make. I think that it is because our society treats divorce in marriage, as divorce from the family. And though there are cases that once the couple is divorced, one parent becomes almost non existent in the children's lives, that is not what most parents want. This is because of the way we treat divorce and also because in trying to create stability in the child's life by keeping them with one parent while the other parent may have the children on the weekend or every other weekend. We should look at the option of shared custody more. The children would have regular contact and stability from <i><b>BOTH</b> </i>parents and feel the love of both parents and be reassured that the marriage split was not because of the kids!<br />
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As this excerpt states: "<span style="background-color: white; color: #636363; font-family: 'Average Sans', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">Research has determined that when children have experience of shared custody they have better relationships with both parents and are more satisfied with their lives. It’s also shown that even when there’s strong animosity between the parents, shared custody works well for the children."</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Taken from</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #636363; font-family: 'Average Sans', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">: <a href="http://www.separateddads.co.uk/sharedcustodyofyourchildren.html">http://www.separateddads.co.uk/sharedcustodyofyourchildren.html</a></span><br />
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And this article is interesting on how shared custody benefits society on a more political and financial level: <a href="https://www.opendemocracy.net/ourkingdom/michael-reed/why-does-no-one-talk-about-benefits-of-shared-custody">https://www.opendemocracy.net/ourkingdom/michael-reed/why-does-no-one-talk-about-benefits-of-shared-custody</a><br />
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Joint custody seems to be the best option in which both parents still want to be involved with their children, of course when one parent is abusive or neglectful than that would not be in an option. It would also mean making changes and sacrifices in each parent's lives, but not at the negative cost as staying together, and rather would actually benefit the children most.<br />
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Well, all I know is that hindsight is always 20/20 and I can not do anything now except to be true to myself so that I influence my children in a way that will make them feel more able to be true to themselves in the future and hopefully stop the cycle of codependency and dysfunctional families!<br />
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<img src="http://www.imgion.com/images/01/your-only-obligation-in-any-lifetime-is-to-be-true-to-yourself.jpg" height="275" width="400" />Susan Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06833812816177538263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2126466354260049587.post-91401758708959062022014-11-23T09:08:00.000-08:002014-11-23T09:08:27.448-08:00Life....It's All Happening!There are times in life when there is too much. Too much to think about, too much to deal with, too much to sort out, too much to figure out. There are also times when all of that needs to be ignored and we must pretend everything is ok, everything is manageable. Everything is "normal". I have been trying to pretend such a normal existence for the last 8 weeks while we hosted a 14 year old exchange student from Germany. I have dealt with many things, silently, I have become a bit lost in my thoughts and fell wayward from expressing myself through the written word. It now feels foreign and more challenging. Challenging to express all that has been locked inside of me, challenging to organise the events and thoughts and experiences of the past 2 months. Challenging to find the flow that I use to embrace as it helped heal and support me.<br />
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There has been hospitalizations and court dates for my son, as well as teenage sleepovers and children's ballet performances. There has been tears and laughter, love and loneliness, giggles and depression, drugs and alcohol, worry and comfort as well as hope and dread!<br />
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We have experienced my home slowly deteriorating with faulty showers, leaking roofs, draughty damp windows as well as a roof threatening to cave in and that particular room turning into a room decorated by a variety of mould! We have still managed to entertain and house a student while I fed her well and cared for her and befriended her. I had to deal with my son's deteriorating emotional health, threatened mental break down, the lack of support of the mental health team, resorting to more drugs and wanting to revert back to the near comatose drug induced state that he longs for, while still trying to maintain his probation requirements and keeping in line with his supported housing accommodation rules. On the latter two requirements, I have seen that too deteriorate and he is in breach of his parole and his accommodation is under threat of eviction.<br />
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I have tried to juggle money so that our student does not have to experience going without electricity or gas, and that she would eat and drink well and not live on rice for days on end as we have done, but at the same time I also tried to help my son so that he too would not go hungry, though many times I have to be strong and remind him he is an adult and he gets money that he needs to be able to manage.<br />
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As time went on though, my veil of pretence to be "normal", slowly started to falter. As this happened and our student was trusted with more and more of our reality, the tears in her pretence also came out. She had self harmed a few times and was dealing with her own problems. She witnessed my daughter slipping back deeper and deeper into depression. Luckily, we all understood each other and we managed to listen and comfort each other and take solace in the fact that everyone has problems.<br />
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I have tried to be positive and embrace what is positive and for the most part I have done just that. I accept that what little time I have with the ones I love is important and I am grateful for that. I am grateful each time I speak to my son and that he is still alive and still lucid. I am grateful for the days that my middle daughter seems to be a little more cheerful and is not lethargic and anti social and depressed. I am grateful that my youngest daughter still embraces childhood and is in no hurry to grow up. I am grateful that a special man did remind me that I am desirable and also intellectually stimulating and that we have maintained our friendship of 2 years though we have become more complexly involved with each other over the last 6 months. I do not agree with his choices based on co dependency and guilt, but it is not my place to judge and instead I am happy for having known him at all. I am grateful that another man I care for has also resumed contact with me. I am grateful that at last all the negative damage my ex husband did to my psyche is starting to leave me. I hope that the more destructive emotional damage he caused our 2 older children will one day start to leave them as well and they too can start to believe in themselves as I have started to believe in myself. I am grateful that I have found enough confidence to become a member of The Children Society charity as a volunteer and I will put all the knowledge I have gained through the years of my son's drug use to some use.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVlXtXuD9-JsAqmBEtYB97SQIh6jRe-nKDchSwbORpDa9j50U_isc68gpZhpj1dyWv8VQ_Q4E8g4_KSMsmN2e6ymyJRYRYvfVi1aiZDyYw-TuNd6Xs0me0HXFyQfcGgzvj22mdIYGnEq8/s1600/purpose+of+life.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVlXtXuD9-JsAqmBEtYB97SQIh6jRe-nKDchSwbORpDa9j50U_isc68gpZhpj1dyWv8VQ_Q4E8g4_KSMsmN2e6ymyJRYRYvfVi1aiZDyYw-TuNd6Xs0me0HXFyQfcGgzvj22mdIYGnEq8/s1600/purpose+of+life.jpg" /></a></div>
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I am trying to also put my story and my writing and my family's experience to some good use to others as well as helping my family with looking for ways to publish and earn money as well. I have been unsuccessful with the Huffington post, no response, but I will keep trying. The Fix would like to publish more posts from me, but not for monetary reward. However, if I write for The Fix, I can not publish the post on my blog for a month after their publication. Also if any of my readers would like to pass on my blog to anyone who might be interested or indeed even any publishers, please pass it on, and if you are so inclined to click ads on my blog, than I would be grateful. I need to provide a better lifestyle for my family and teach them that you should never give up and that you should never be ashamed to try!<br />
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I hope that my next post will be able to concentrate on one issue or go deeper into a topic, and that I will be able to return to a more regular and productive writing rhythm once again!Susan Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06833812816177538263noreply@blogger.com0