Squatter

I 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.

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.

                                      

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.

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.

                                                                  A mug of tea.

                                   
                                    Above and below is the chicken breast I brought him once.

               
                                                                     The kitchen.

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.

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.

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.

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.

                                       

                                                   Taco Tuesday lunch with my son.

The Roller Coaster Life of The Lonely Addict

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.

                                         

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.

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.

                                           

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.

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.

                                             

   

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.

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?

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.

                                                   

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.

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.

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!

                                                     

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.

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 understand 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!

Feeling a Void

When my son first left our family home, on my request, and became homeless it did not have a detrimental affect on our relationship. We spoke every day, sometimes several times a day. My son would often phone late in the evening and we would have a little chat that he would always end with, "Goodnight, I love you" just as he did at home.

                                          

When he was at home those words would sometimes infuriate me, he could have been shouting obscenities at  me a few minutes earlier but still say them and, in fact, if I could not return the gesture with a heartfelt, "Goodnight, I love you too" that would often spark more arguing.

Now I miss those words, I miss them so very much!

On that occasion when my son was unaccounted for and some other homeless man had his phone and was making very hurtful "prank" phone calls to me, that evening seems to have been some turning point for my son. Since that night he no longer slept at the night shelter's winter provision hotel, but rather chose to stay with a woman in her 30's who apparently is the "girlfriend" of on of the other homeless men that my son met. This woman apparently does not like being alone and has at least a handful of different men, all homeless I believe, staying with her at random times. My son likes staying there, even now that he has finally his own place in a supported housing project because he says she is "brilliant".

Since then the contact has become more and more infrequent. His tone of voice, though often in the past has been less then respectful and usually quite unacceptable, has changed. He has changed. I miss him even more than ever. I do not miss the lack of him being around more than ever, I miss his essence more than ever. I feel he is truly not the person who was once my son and sometimes I wonder if he ever will be again.

Since he has chosen these "friends" his drinking has dramatically increased and he has also let it slip that he has went out to by this woman drugs, but apparently the legal highs that are so popular, but never the less powerful. She is also being treated for various medical conditions, so she may be sharing her prescription drugs. Also my son now has an address he can use if he chooses to order any more drugs off the internet, without fear or judgement. He is free to be an addict in her presence and with their friends and this is why she is so "brilliant".

                        


The other day it dawned on me that all these years I said that I could not make my son homeless while he was an addict because that might lead to an overdose and then the guilt of his death would consume me, was not the only reason I hung on for so long. I realise, that of course that was a legitimate fear, it was not the main reason behind my hesitation. Now that he is no longer living under my roof, I have relinquished any influence or control I may or may not have had over him, but I was holding on to the slightest shred of hope that while he lived at home I could still influence him to seek help. There were less factors at home for him, no one at home encouraged his behaviour or accepted it but now he has found the right people to feed his addiction and his denial. Of course I know intellectually that I had no control or influence over him when he was at home, but emotionally I clung on to that hope. Yes, I can still influence him without his residing with me, but the problem seems to be that since he is no longer here our relationship is slipping deeper and deeper into nothingness. Perhaps this is because of his resentment, his trying to find his own way in the world, his choices etc or perhaps it is because that for years our relationship was based on his addiction and my enabling to some extent and all we shared was discussions and arguments over drugs and the power struggle of who is in control at home...that is all gone now. I would have liked to believe that the first 15 years of his life, before his drug taking drastically altered his personality, would have embedded such a strong foundation of love between us that once the daily arguments were removed and we both had time and space away from each other, that strong foundation would have proven it's strength.

                         

Ironically the catalyst for having my son leave was my middle child's deterioration into depression and an increased worry of suicide, yet she does not seem to be that much better even though her brother has been gone for two months now. I see slight improvements of course, we are definitely more relaxed at home. We are enjoying dinner times, music and laugher so much more. Yet, I see the sadness is still within her. I see the flatness at times and the lack of motivation to do anything. Yet, surprisingly she is doing amazingly well at school, achieving high results and rewards. She has an amazing mind, and I hope that will benefit her and not hinder her, as my son's intelligence hindered him because he choose to focus his intelligence on the "wrong" things.

We do not speak of my son much at home, actually not at all unless I bring him up. I do not want my daughters to believe that a parent can just dismiss their own child and that we can act as if he never existed. Yes, there are problems and there has been a great deal of damage done, but despite that he is my son, he is their brother and we are still family and we should all have the desire to repair the family. I think this will be difficult and it will be more difficult to accept that perhaps his sisters do not want to repair their relationship and they may choose not to have him in their lives. I can not choose that, so this again will create conflict within the family.

                 

When will it ever end? When will it ever be better? Even if my son chooses recovery, will that "fix" things like I have been hoping for so long? At this point I would say no, it would only be the first step towards "fixing" things.

Fearing the Worst

Tonight will prove to be a long very night, with no relief in sight with the rising of the sun tomorrow.



I spoke to my son today and when he got upset with me, he put the phone down on me.

Later, as I was driving home from the store to buy cake ingredients for my little girl's 9th birthday tomorrow, I saw my son walking along the other side of the street. My first reaction was a smile and excitement and I wanted to pull over and say hello. Then I thought, no, he was not very nice to me on the phone today and all he ever wants from me is money to buy drink. So I kept on driving with a pain and sadness in my heart.

This evening as I returned home from my youngest daughter's ballet lessons, at 7:20 pm, the moment I walked inside my phone rang and I saw it was my son calling.  At first glance I was annoyed, "Great", I thought, "he always calls at the most inopportune times".

Much to my surprise it was not my son on the other side of the phone, but a man pretending to be calling from a hospital. He was not that convincing but was trying to make me believe that my son's phone was found and he is in stable condition after an overdose, but then I could tell it was all a farce and I put down the phone.

A few minutes later my son's phone is ringing me again. This time the same man is trying to act the part of a gangster who is after my son because he is a meth head who owes him lots of money and he will slit his throat if he does not pay up. I start retaliating and make it clear that I will not tolerate such vile behaviour and will go to the homeless shelter to report this and take their advice on how to pursue it further.

So I go into the living room and inform my girls that dinner will have to wait, I must run to the homeless shelter because of the phone calls I received. As always, I am over emotional and unable to contain myself and cry as I speak to my daughters.

As I drive along there goes my phone again. The same man but this time he is apologizing for the phone calls and that there is no need to tell the shelter. My son apparently gave him the phone while he ran to go do something. Very unlikely. When he sees my son he will tell him to call me and he is very sorry for upsetting me but I was not moved by his pathetic apology.

I speed over to the shelter and when I get there the workers are outside having a cigarette break before the homeless come at 8:00 pm. it is now about 7:30. I blurted out the story while my legs and arms trembled with such force I thought I would lose control of them. They assured me that my son always arrives at about 8:00 pm and they will ask him to ring me from the shelter's phone, but if he does not show up then they will ring me. Try not to worry I am told.

I drive around the neighbouring streets hoping that my son's bright green backpack will illuminate from the dark pavements and all will be well. I was not successful in my quest. I knew I needed to go home and feed my hungry, bewildered daughters.

Upon returning home I immediately start fixing dinner all the while keeping a watchful eye on the time as well as my phone. Sure enough somewhere around 8:00 pm I get a call, by heart stops beating! It is not my son on the other end. It is a staff member from the shelter that my son in fact did not turn up as usual. I betray my emotions with a quavering voice expressing my fears. They told me they have till 9:00 to turn up, then after that it is too late.

Somehow I managed to contain myself and feed my daughters, then it is nearly 9:00 pm. I was muttering to myself but also talking to my daughter about my worries and confusion as to what actual is going on. She suggests that I ring her brother and see what happens.

The phone is ringing, my heart is sinking, deeper and deeper with each unanswered ring. At last it stops ringing and I hear "Hello". Wrong voice once again. The voice of the woman from the shelter this time. Someone who was with my son earlier, but says he did not make the phone calls to me, has come back to the shelter and handed in my son's phone. The story from him is that my son and a couple of others have "decided" to go on a bender and drink and not come back to the shelter as they know if they drink they will be turned away after being breathalysed.

So why doesn't my son have his phone? Why was this other horrible person torturing me with such horrific "pranks"? Where is my son? Is he really ok? It is one homeless person's word, the homeless person who had my son's phone. Is my son laying in the street after being beat? Is he passed out drunk in the freezing temperatures? Will he freeze? Will he chock on his own vomit. And the words that I can not even say out loud, will I ever see him or speak to him again?

The woman at the shelter assures me all is well and tomorrow at mid day when my son comes to register for a room for the night he will get his phone back and he will be told to ring me. I have to wait a very very long time and tomorrow is my little girls birthday! Please God, do not be so cruel that my youngest child's birthday will be the anniversary of some tragedy that happened to my first born!

I saw him today with excitement as my eyes recognised him, but with a heavy heart I decided to let him keep on walking. Please do not let that be the last image I have of the boy who first brought me the most wonderful joy a woman can imagine in her life, the joy of motherhood!

Mixed Up Emotions

Coping with my son being homeless and still using is actually less difficult than I imagined. That is not to say I do not worry or I am not sad, but it is no more or less the same amount of worry and sadness I had for years while he lived at home and used drugs.

I feel an emptiness at home. Before, while he was still here, we had all the stress and drama, but I missed my son very much then. I say I missed him while he was here with me in the family home because then it was a constant reminder to me that I no longer have my son or my so called normal family. Every time he would be high or coming down or aggressive or passed out, I was sad and missed my boy, because the person I was living with was not the kind and loving son I once had and knew that I could still have. Oh how I missed him, though I could see him before my eyes every single day!

                                

Now I no longer miss the son I use to have because when he is not around I am not being constantly reminded how my true son is lost inside the addict. Now I am feeling the emptiness in my home, though it is not exactly the same feeling as missing someone. It feels strange to know that when I go to sleep at night no one else is still up or downstairs. Therefore the house seems bleaker in a way, almost scary at first. I say scary because now if I here a noise at night, I can not ignore it and go back to sleep in the comfort of knowing that it is my son who is downstairs watching tv. When I come home and my daughters are still at school, it is strange to know that I am the only one here.

                              

Some days I worry why he has not contacted me, but then when he does I am quickly annoyed and disappointed in the nature of our conversation so feel the urge to just hang up. Other days I forget to call him and when night rolls around a sudden feeling of guilt overcomes me that how on earth could I have not been thinking about my homeless drug addict son today!?

There was also this enormous fear within me that if I ever allowed my son to be homeless that he would crumble and succumb to depression and heavier drug use and even possibly suicide. I was very wrong in that fear and he seems to be managing very well. I have written before how this is almost a disappointment to me, yet it is not to say that I want my son to be wondering the streets depressed looking for a better fix and possibly ending his life! NEVER! My disappointment is rather that before those things would happen my son would be overwhelmed with fear of the undesirable elements that being homeless could bring, that he would then "wake up" feeling remorse perhaps, feel the need for sobriety, and seek out help. The fact that he is coping well being homeless is good in the fact that it shows me he is emotionally stronger than probably both of use thought, as well as resourceful. These are very positive indications. I worry that the negative indications to his being so well adapted to homelessness may be that he enjoys the freedom which enables him to continue living a lifestyle of drugs, denial and lack of responsibility.

A pleasant surprise to all of this is that I am aware that I am actually accepting that I have done much good for my son, and though we all make our own mistakes, I am really not responsible for his drug addiction. I am not responsible for his drug manufacturing arrest. I am not responsible for him ultimately becoming homeless. I have tried my best to raise him for nearly 19 years, providing him with love, nurture and support, even during the last 6 years of his ever increasing drug habit. Despite what my son and my ex husband tell me, it is NOT my fault! I am actually starting to really "get" that and believe it!

                          

Perhaps it was foolish of me or just naively hopeful, but I had hoped that once my son was no longer in the family home, and especially once the holidays were over, I would feel new motivation to clean up the house as well as our lives. I envisioned myself with a burst of new found energy and determination to make this the home it once was, and bring back some normalcy of routine to my daughters. Unfortunately this has not been the case. Although I am feeling more and more aware that I really am not the cause of all this, and I no longer have to be the kicking post for my son's rage and anger, I find myself still lacking in energy and motivation.

So many emotions and varying states of mind, some expected, some not so expected, which illustrate just what a very long journey we have been on and still have before us. I am holding on the the mental picture I have of my family being whole again one day. A family no longer torn apart by addiction. A family which has overcome so much emotional, physical and situational hardships yet still worked through the issues and found new healthier relationships within the family at the end. I see happy faces and new additions to my family in the future. I see my children as three happy, well functioning. emotionally strong and healthy young adults one day! This vision is what keeps me here!

                    

Happy & Homeless

Yesterday afternoon I received a phone call from my son that he needs a lift to the emergency room, because he cut his hand badly last night and today noticed that there are big chunks of glass wedged deep within the wound which he can not remove.



Of course, as mothers do, I said I would pick him up and take him to the hospital in 20 minutes. I had to know though, how did it happen? He slipped, while walking,  on the wet pavement and he was holding a bottle.

My youngest was not impressed as it was her last day at home from her winter break, her sister had gone back to her school the day before, so today should have been just about her. Not a fun way for an 8 year old to spend her last afternoon of her holidays!

As I pulled up on the street corner, I saw my son a few yards away, smiling and chatting to another young man. He looked good. My son looked to be enjoying himself, fully engaging in conversation, smiling, laughing. He looked like a good looking young man enjoying himself. He looked happy.
My first glance at my son made me happy. Then reality sunk in and I was no longer happy. I was not looking at my nearly 19 year old son hanging out with his class mate after uni, waiting for me to help him do his grocery shopping before I dropped him at his flat where he shares with other classmates....just a nice hypothetical example, one of many "nicer" alternatives to the truth.

I was watching my homeless son, chatting to his fellow homeless mate who was enjoying a can of cider, standing outside the drug and alcohol clinic, waiting for me to take him to the hospital to get his hand stitched up. This was not right. This was causing me a great sense of cognitive dissonance. This was making me feel edgy. AND he was making me wait, because he was enjoying himself!

Upon arriving at the hospital, he tells the true story behind his injury. The day it happened he had gone to the corner shop and stole a can of extra strong cider and a bottle of wine. He then proceeded to the park where he consumed all of the wine and cider. He was, according to him, enjoying himself and got a bit drunk. This led him to want more, so foolishly he went back to the SAME shop and attempted to steal another bottle of wine. He thought he got away with it, but once outside a man from the shop and a guard dog chased my son down the street. This is when and how my son fell and fell with the bottle of wine which smashed in his hand as he fell. The man caught him, and according to my son, dragged him back to the shop by the scruff of the neck. When my son tried to escape his hold, he threatened to sick the dog on him. Once back at the shop, the manager decided there was no point calling the police since there was no longer evidence that he took anything, it was broken and all over the pavement somewhere. They let him go with the warning that he is not allowed to ever enter the shop again.
           
                                        
                 

Having finished his story, he also told me that his hand was bleeding quite a lot after it happened and he wondered around and eventually went into a church that was holding an evening service. When some of the parishioners noticed the state of his hand they were concerned and offered him tissues. After the service the clergyman helped my son with his first aid kit, and everyone was very nice and helpful, though he didn't think the cuts in his hand were a big concern. All the while when he was telling me this, he was calm, relaxed even smiling and chuckling at times.

As he stood by the car door, very comfortable with the fact that he was going into the emergency room to get stitched up, he did not seem too bothered. I told him that I hope this is not the beginning of things to come. He said that it probably is and that he will probably get into fights and such and receive much worse injuries. I drove away sad, worried, and disappointed.

I reflected on our car journey home, how he was telling me, with his young sister in the back seat, how it is actually good being homeless. He gets a room and taxi. He gets fed decent food every night. There are churches that they go and hang out in to get warm and get light lunches during the day. He has free time and he is out doing a lot of stuff, not just sleeping and sitting indoors all the time like he was at home. He has no one hassling him, and the people don't judge and they are nice.

                                           

Right now being homeless, having a shelter with a special night provision, doing your own thing is an adventure my son is enjoying. I hope he gets housed in the supported housing project (that excepted him in early/mid December) has an opening soon, before this adventure turns into a chosen way of life that my son chooses over an improved living accommodation where he would get support with the intention of moving forward toward independent and healthy living. Something tells me once in a house with rules and boundaries to adhere to, he will look at homelessness as the better option for him. I hope my feeling is wrong.

Educating The Young Homeless Addict

I met with my son in town for a cup of coffee today. He was 45 minutes late, but at least he was not intoxicated!

                            

My fear was always that if my son was ever homeless he would be exposed to more undesirable "things". I really never looked beyond the fear that he would turn to heroin and may accidentally overdose.

Funny, I did not think about the other "things" he would be exposed to. I suppose I feared the threat of heroin and possible overdose because I assumed my son would be scared and hurt and turn to heroin as a comforting  way to deal with his fear. I did not think that my son would just fine being homeless. He would like the people he was coming into contact with. He would listen to their tricks and think it is worth a go.
Oh how naive of me!

                                      
It is a provable statistic that crime and drug addiction has a high correlation, therefore why am I surprised that my son would turn to petty crime to support his habit? He has already broke the law in so many more complex ways. As I sat with him and he spoke of things, I was embarrassed that we may be overheard, I had a feeling of detachment as well as shame.

Under the pretense of wanting to see me and just sit and have a chat, it became clear there was more to it. He has no money. Will I give him enough money to tie him over till he gets his next benefit payment. "No, I am sorry I can't, you will have to ask someone else." "Dad has just given me £50 for Christmas and wont give me any more, and my friends won't give me money."

        

I will not give him any more. I helped him out with nearly £100 the first few days after moving out. His most loyal friend will not give him money because he has also learned that he would only be enabling him. His father has not helped for months and our son knows that  Dad is not a resource for him to tap into. My son receives benefits now, paid into his bank account each fortnight. I will help him budget that money, as I offered, but I will no longer do anything that is in any way enabling his addiction.

So ok then, he will have to start stealing "bigger stuff". Ahem, excuse me, "bigger stuff"? Well he has stolen a thermal head scarf, some ear phone cushions, AND, and I did not want to know any more. He told me of how one of the guys at the shelter told him how he steals wine, even though he doesn't like wine, it is the easiest to steal. He also found out that some chemists do not dispose of medicines properly and sometimes if you poke around their bins you can find some pills. Also around the University campus is also a good place to find blister packs of prescription drugs laying about. A homeless woman also steals from donations that are left outside Oxford and other charity shops. STOP. I do not want to hear any more.

I am listening to this is a small cafe with no other customers and the owner is sitting at the table right behind my son, he is not even trying to speak quietly. He talks about how the codeine syrup he bought yesterday broke when he dropped it. Then he says, that though upset, he was ok because he knew he had the codeine he extracted from some co-codamol he bought and that was back at the room. Upon returning he picked it up and spilled 2/3rds of it. Also his prescription for Atarax (hydroxyzine hydrochloride) is almost gone even though he had a new prescription filled on Jan 31st, 4 days ago. If the doctor intended him to be taking as many as he is, obviously he would have given him a larger prescription!


                          

He wants some money, because he is starving?! Hmm, funny how are you buying codeine and such? The homeless shelter only gives him one meal a day. Funny, a few days ago my son told me how he is eating so much better! 

Can we not just talk? No, at home everything revolved around drugs. Outside, everything revolves around drugs. Our relationship will not change until my son faces up to his addiction. I know that, now I need to wait for my son to come to that conclusion as well.

As we left the cafe, my son asked for a lift to a corner shop near my house even though he said he was meeting a friend near where the cafe is soon. Why? To buy a can of cheap cider. Oh I guess he is not entirely penniless. OK, upon getting into my car he pokes around the little place where I put change and keep my trolley pound, anything he can find to take.  There is nothing because I have learned to live with absolutely nothing left laying about would be potentially useful to my son.

His plan for the rest of the afternoon? Buy a can of cheap, strong cider. Go to the chemist and look behind the shop in their bins for any discarded medications. Go to maybe a few more chemists that he has heard from the other homeless people are relaxed about disposing of drugs. Try to remember to meet his friend. Go back to where the shelter is and possibly pop into the off license opposite and try to steal a bottle of wine. Get taken back to his accommodation and consume what he has successful obtained. Lovely skills son!

On the bright side, I am discovering that I am becoming stronger and stronger and letting go of the guilt and feelings of responsibility of my son's addiction. Never in a million years would I have been able to envision this situation 6 months ago. I have actually told and watched my son leave my home. He has become homeless. He is asking for "help" and I am saying no. I have turned him away in the cold night when he appears at my door unannounced intoxicated. I have told him to leave my house during a visit over the emotional and lonely holiday period because he broke the rules and lied. I have managed to do this all without tears, well, without too many tears, without breaking. I have managed to smile and laugh and go out and feel happy with other people guilt free. I will keep contact with my son, I will continue to advise him and love him, but I will no longer let his choices destroy 4 lives. I accept that my choices were not the best and in some ways my choices contributed to his unhappiness, but it was his choice, not mine, to use drugs to buffer his sadness or dissatisfaction with life. I am here to help, along with others, when he is ready.

Actually, my son may be learning new "skills" at the moment that I am not proud of, (but again it is his choice), but I am learning new skills as well on how to be stronger and happier and still remain supportive. I am showing my daughters that life does not only go on, but it can get better. In the end I hope that one choice my son will make, is the choice to seek help and the choice to start on the road to recovery. I also hope that when that day comes and he is enjoying more sober and enlightened days, he will look back and see who was there for him and see how much we have all grown.

                                  

Nothing Changes New Year's Day

New Year's Day 2014 is today.

Many people around the world are hung over from too much celebrating the night before. Celebrating a new year with hopes of new beginnings, hoping that this may be the year that something lacking thus far in their lives will find them and fill a void. Resolutions are made by many, resolutions that will soon be forgotten.

                              

Yesterday there were no celebrations in my house. The house and kids were a mess so my agenda was to have something cleaned before the New Year started. After a slow start I  decided to start with our kitty and give him a flea treatment. Since he sleeps with me, I thought I should also change my bedding. Not that was riddled with fleas, but it is better to be safe. Then I showered my youngest. As I brushed and combed her washed hair I discovered she has lice, which shockingly is a common occurrence with British children. OK, that meant dry the hair and put lice treatment on, change her sheets, comb with lice comb, re wash hair! Then I told my other daughter she better check her hair....she thought she was all clear, but eventually found two disgusting creatures in her hair. OK, treatment and thorough coming, wash hair, change sheets! I might as well do mine, to be safe, but later, too much to do! Any one who has been through this ordeal, knows how tedious and time consuming it is!

During all this I am getting phone calls and txts from my son. He had a Dr's appointment and wanted to stop by since the doctor is very near my home. Eventually after lots of toing and froing we agreed that he would stop by but not come inside and collect his benefit letter at the door. Then when I made the suggestion that he could stop by a certain friends house, my son was very quick to inform me that he is no longer welcome there and that it is my fault! Apparently when my son was kicked out of the first homeless shelter for drugs and was looking for places to stay, even if for just one night, this particular friend asked his parents and it was ok until he let it slip to his parents that my son was homeless and why. Upon hearing the truth, this friend's parents said that my son was no longer welcome in their home. So my son started to tell me how this was all my fault, I made him homeless! I tried to explain how it was all his choices that led us here and that the more people that refuse to help him because of his drug addiction, eventually he will learn why and start taking some responsibility to get into recovery.

                              

So, as I was trying to deal with my mess inside with mountains of washing (and no tumble dryer), realizing that time was getting on and that I still needed to get out to the shops since come New Year's Day they will be closed, and still not dressed, my son knocks on the door. Never is anything simple, could we just say our hello's and collect his letter and be on his way? Of course not. Somehow my son started talking, again, of how he needs to have his clothes washed, he wants to bring some stuff by because he has too much to lug around, etc. I noticed that he had new trousers on. The day before he had met with his father who bought him some jeans and a thermal top and gave him £50 and bought him lunch etc. OK great...but I have given him much more and it is never good enough. He tells me how the trousers I gave him for Christmas have already ripped and blah blah blah. Then he contradicts himself by telling me how good he has been living since he is homeless. The shelter feeds him good food, he has been treated to lunches and he is near fast food places. He has been more productive, he is out more etc. As much as I understand that he longs for a relationship with his father and independence is a self satisfying experience, my son seems to want to hurt me with the way he communicates these things to me and always puts in an insult or two for good measure. He not only treats me with gross disrespect, blatantly holds me responsible for EVERY bad thing that has ever happened, he speaks highly of others who do minimal for him and yet is ungrateful and even unaware of how much I have done and still do for him.

                               

I had to try to stand my ground and not emotionally charged and keep the interaction to a minimum, while offering him to come over the following day and then he could also pick up some nicer clothes to wear to the police interview on Jan 2nd. When he continued to wind me up about his father, I succumbed (as I often do) and asked if his father has offered to support him some way on the 2nd. Has he offered to get him to the police or stay with him to give him emotional support? No, because "Dad is going away for a few days ". Lovely! "He can go away if he wants, why not?".

                           

After I shut the door I lost it. The floodgates opened. Why do I have to deal with all the crap? The fleas, the lice, the washing, the cooking/cleaning, punctured tire on my car,  the bills, the debt collectors, lawyers, courts, police, social workers, drugs, chemicals, drug services, suicidal daughter, groups therapy, appointments, mental health services, doctors, school, being on the news, gossip,  shitty comments, lost friendships, unemployment, my son's homelessness, crap from their father, listening, crying, arguments, putting up with the crap, hoping, waiting, wanting to fix it all, and now Christmas and trying to keep it together and keep the magic alive for my youngest......why, why, why???? He CAN GO AWAY? He doesn't have to deal, he can relinquish responsibility and also blame ME for Everything? How the F*** is that right or fair!

Their father lies to the Social Workers and sends me txts such as, "You seem to be ok with the girls not seeing me before Christmas and not getting their presents...?". Disregarding all we have had to deal with lately and that also was my sister was in town for only a few days. He then said he would not see them any other day before the 29th. When that was agreed I said that he could collect the girls across the street from the house, it's easier that way and better for the girls. So I get accused of being difficult and he will not have it. I again caved in to the games and said that I was just trying to put our children's well being first, unlike him. I also asked for a time when the visit would end (so I could plan my day).  So when I read his response, "Great job you have done with our son. When the big hand is on the twelve and the little hand is on the five", well I was in tears and so upset that he could be blaming me on what a great job I have done in raising our son. Hell-lo, he did/does have a father, yet he blames me and me alone? Then he speaks to me like a child regarding the time his visit with our daughters will end? Really!?

It's ok for him to go away whenever and wherever he likes? How about me? This hit me even harder than usual, because a few weeks ago an old lover in France sent me a lovely email about how I need to do something for myself, and get out of "it" for a few days. He wrote me that we could look at the snow on the Alps, drink wine and love one another. For the first time in a long time I felt excited and happy that I can do something for me and it is OK. I deserve to get away for a weekend and recharge my batteries. To feel young and beautiful and worry free. I thought about it, we wrote a few emails and then I started to look at airline tickets and planning in my head who to ask to look after the girls, which friends could they go to , who would look after the cat etc. Long story short, it is not happening and I feel that he may have bailed on me,  I told him when I was thinking of going then it was no longer convenient because he will be away working. No discussion on making other plans and no contact now for a while.  My bubble burst, big time!

                                           

So I am having a rant here, sorry. I just feel like all these little and big incidences boiled up inside of me and I felt like screaming.

Today . New Year's Day. New beginnings. New chances,

I started with playing a board game with my daughters. My youngest has been feeling neglected since so much of my time and attention was always taken away by her brother and his problems, which of course helped build my own problems. When he was getting ready to move out and I explained to her what was happening, I told her that now we could start trying to make things better at home. "So you will play with me more from now on?" was her reaction. I had to say that not right away, but soon, "after Christmas, mummy?". "Maybe, we will see how it goes".



What a better time then to show to my daughters that things will start getting better, playing a game together on New Year's Day. My little girl was thrilled and we enjoyed it!

My son arrived a couple of hours later and it all changed and I realized that it is so very hard to make change happen. Everything soon went pear shaped and the raised voices and arguments and disregard to my wishes were all happening again as if the last 15 days never happened. He left a couple of hours later only to return an hour later (for 10 minutes he said) to collect clothes for tomorrow, That 10 minutes turned into a couple of hours and him getting high/drunk in his room and messing about and wasting time. My daughters were shut away in their room and I was getting so frustrated and disappointed. Eventually I had to tell him that he is no longer welcome in my home unless he agrees to be clean and sober. No more lies. No more manipulation. No more shit! I even told him that because of his behavior that I will not take him to the police in the morning, make his own way and whatever will happen will happen.

                                               

All this is NOT MY FAULT. I am NOT responsible for my son's behavior. I am not responsible for his choices. I will no longer be his scapegoat! This is a new year and I WILL NOT do it anymore.

I will think of making this a happier home for me and my daughters, and I know it will take time. I will find someone who does want to spend time with me and have moments to recharge myself. I will not feel guilty if things go wrong for my son. I will continue to love my son and hope for his light bulb moment which will lead him onto the road of recovery. I will welcome him back when he returns as my son and not a using addict.

New Year, may not seem much different in my house today. Nothing has changed for my son. Nothing has changed within our dysfunctional relationships. The problems and difficulties remain.

Something is different though. No matter how much my buttons get pushed by my ex, or guilt is thrust upon me by my son, or I feel rejected by old lovers, I am not going to let it control me anymore. I will try, little by little, try to make that change and this year will see me becoming more empowered and ultimately happier, whatever the future holds.

At least, this is my goal....today, on New Year's Day 2014!

                               

So this is Christmastime?

Christmas, soon it will be the beginning of a new year. A time to reflect on the past as well as new hope for the year ahead.

This time last year I would have never foreseen the the events that lay ahead. This is a pattern that has been my experience for the past 5 years or so. Each Christmas I find it hard to put on the show that all is well and we have good cheer in our lives and happiness lays ahead for a brighter new year. Each year there are new hardships and obstacles that were unexpected. Due to this, I no longer have faith that next year will be better, rather I dread the up coming year and what it holds for my children and I. This is the bitter truth, though I keep saying aloud that 2014 WILL be a better year, I do not think I believe it. Perhaps I am afraid to believe it will be better so that I will not be disappointed.

                          

Christmas 2013 saw some kindness and joy, but it also saw an empty place at our table. This Christmas my first born is homeless. I made him homeless 10 days before Christmas. Trying to do what is best for my children is breaking my heart and my spirit. I could not imagine such a life for someone who is or use to be kind, loving, giving, fun, passionate, positive and care free. I imagined a life surrounded by happy and carefree children, blossoming, growing, curious and enthusiastic to explore all the wonders and magic of the world. Instead I have a homeless son addicted to drugs and a depressed teenage daughter who is contemplating suicide and a young child who has seen and heard and experienced things she should have never experienced. I am alone without parents to advice me or give their grandchildren the love they need. I have no partner to hold and love me and give me hope. My children and I have only each other.

So. My son is homeless. I had to tell him to leave because the professionals involved with my daughter were concerned with her safety. I was not allowed to leave her alone or travel on the train, and remove all dangerous items from my house. She had confessed a plan to her counselor that if things do not change soon she will take matters into her own hands. She had a plan on how she would kill herself and by when. She would not divulge to anyone how, but the time frame was that if things do not improve she will not be alive by Christmas.

                           

I gave my son a week to find somewhere to live as he had claimed benefit and received a backdated claim of £600. Despite our efforts and the dedicated support and assistance from our Family Solutions worker, we could not find anywhere or anyone who would take him. He asked friends but because of his drug problem no one was willing to take the risk of having him in their home. Desperate times calls for desperate measures. My son bit the bullet (and popped some pills) and phoned his father. Well, I can not understand how I still allow myself to be surprised and disappointed in this man. Perhaps it is because I see the pain and disappointment in our children and I see the ramifications that his negligence causes and I am the one left to cope with the mess. So while the Family Solutions worker and I sat there trying to come up with a plan with my son as it became clear that he would not have a place to live, my son said he would buy a tent and live outside, wherever, however, he didn't really know, he just would. We suggested in trying it out for a night before he invests money in buying the camping equipment only to discover that he prefers to be indoors where it is warm and dry. On this proposal my son said he would call his father and ask if he could borrow his father's tent and sleeping bag to try it out. I heard some of the conversation from the next room, as did our family worker, and we were impressed and proud that my son was upfront and honest with his father. He explained what happened with the police and what chemicals he had and what he was doing with them. He explained that because of his behaviors the home environment is less than good and it is affecting his sisters. He also told of the concern for his sister and that she is talking of ending her life. That brought him to discuss how we have finally come to a date after months of speaking about his moving out, but he has no place to go as of yet. He very maturely asked his father that if he does not find a place by Dec 14, could he stay with his father temporarily while he continues to look for accommodation. He also disclosed to his father that if he finds no where he was thinking of camping out and moving around from field to field and thought maybe he could borrow his father's camping gear. This may come as no surprise to anyone here reading this, especially if you have read my previous posts, but somehow I was still surprised. My darling ex husband told his first born child that since he does not really know him and vice verse he does not think it would be a good idea, he has no idea how and if they would get along and that in his one bedroom flat there would not be enough room. However, he is OK to let his son borrow his tent and sleep outside in the winter, illegally as well, in parks or woods! What a message is this "man" giving to his son who has so many issues including a drug dependency!?

When the day and time came to collect the tent from his father, because his father could not be bothered to drop it to him, our son phoned that he was running late and could it be pushed back an hour. No was the answer he got because his father had to meet his girlfriend! Disgusting!

The worst thing is that when the family worker and social worker contacted my ex husband he played ignorant but stuck to his guns that he can not do anything to help!

As timed ticked on,  unbeknownst to me, my son was spending his benefit money on alcohol, opium poppies (after not having had opium for 4-5 months), 500 benzo pills, legal highs, and 1 gram of Etizolam powder which alone cost £188! He also bought a few "normal" things like cds and had a night at the pub with his friends. The plan was that if he had nothing in place, the last resort was to stay in a cheap B&B. The B&B that was cheapest and closest was booked up and everything else was too expensive. I looked and looked and finally booked him a room, but then low and behold he confessed his spending spree and did not have enough money to pay for more than one night! So I paid for another night so that Saturday and Sunday he had a place, but his father refused to help and did not even contact his son to see where he went to! Monday he would be off to a homeless shelter in another city, about 30-40 minutes drive from our home.

He lasted 2 nights in the night shelter before he was kicked out because of drug supplying to others as well as his own drug taking. His room was searched while he was out and the police were called in to remove the drugs. When my son returned to the night shelter Wed evening his bagged were packed and he was sent on his way.

Surprisingly my son was not phased and found a friend (I have only met once) to stay with and managed to take the train to his friend. Apparently his friend's mother, who I do not know, agreed to let my son drugs and all stay will the new year. Things changed and a few days later he phoned me that he needs to leave Christmas Eve and he does not understand my cruelty and over reaction in my refusal to let him back home for "a few days". Then on Dec 22nd he phoned again that he needs to leave and can not stay anymore. I said I could not help, but then he said it was ok because his friend's mom is so very nice and good and they "bonded" so she put him up for a night in a hotel! The following day I organised him to go to our city's night shelter, though full, and ask for help. I also contacted our family worker and she made some phone calls to the shelter. I spent my afternoon, the last day of my sister's visit from America ad not getting my own things done, rather I picked him up and helped him get sorted out at the night shelter and convinced them to help him though at first they were turning him away.

While this was going on I was getting demanding txts from my ex that he wants to see his daughters to give them their present Monday. When I said they were spending the day with their aunt from the states, his only reaction was just,  "then Tuesday!".  I asked our daughter and she said it is her birthday and Christmas Eve and she wants to be at home. Rather then understanding this when I relayed her wishes to him, he started txting me that I do not seem to care that the girls get their presents or not!!! Seriously???? My only response to that was that there is a lot more at stake here than a Christmas gift and the biggest gift of all would be taking our son in and eliminating some stress and fear. His answer...."next sat, film and lunch!".  Argh!!!! Coming from a school teacher off work during the holidays it is an even bigger ARGH!

In the 10 days that my son as not been living here, he came home unexpectedly one afternoon while we were out to help himself to a shower. That resulted in me taking his key away. On Christmas Eve he knocked on our door  very intoxicated asking for a scarf, or some food, or to use the toilet...I would not let him in and I had to stay firm and refuse him. How heartbreaking. He calls me at 1 am, 2 am, off his face and wanting to chat. Next time we talk he tells me that people think I am being horrible for making him homeless and need a kick up my ass!

We agreed that he would come over for Christmas Day dinner but he would not be allowed in if he was intoxicated. My middle daughter refused to see him or to have dinner with him. He showed up 45 minutes late. He did not appear intoxicated but as I have become an expert, well almost, I knew he had a manageable amount of benzos so that he feels better without appearing under the influence. He was wet and muddy because he walked through the park and walked through puddles and slipped a few times. It was not a pleasant visit and I found myself on edge and very uncomfortable and suspicious. He made sarcastic comments about the gifts I had for him, yet praised the small yet useful gifts he received from the homeless shelter. He wanted to spend time in his room but I kept refusing that luxury. He did slip away to his room while I was cooking and come down to eat and I immediately knew what he had been up to!

Tears hidden, frustration apparent, depression trying to surface for all to see. Worry, dread, fear, shame, inadequacy. Not exactly the emotions one once at Christmas time and with the New Year approaching. All this and not mentioning that my son goes back for questioning by the police On Jan 2nd, the day after New Year's Day!

Oh I need a break! I need a change of scenery. I need to feel that there is more to life. These needs should be easier to fulfil than my need to know that ALL my children will surpass these hard times and make a life worth living. Sadly, even these simple needs seem hard to fulfil.