The Darkness of Depression and Dysfunction

My 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.

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 IS the way dysfunctional relationships work.

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.

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.

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.


         " ... 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. "

        "  ..how stupid I have been/being and how I need to change ASAP or I won't have any sort of live whether I 
die or just continue like this."

        "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) 

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.

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)

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/

It's disgusting and makes me ashamed of myself (so I take more to forget about that :| )

Thats why, now, I want to go to rehab."

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.  

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.

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.

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.    

Drugs Brought Us Together

I 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.

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.

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".

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.

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.

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.

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.

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".

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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?

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.

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!

My Son's Love Affair With Opinum

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?

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.

                                  

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."

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.

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.

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.

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.

Harsh Words in Harsh Times

Roller coaster rides can be thrilling and exciting as well as terrifying and alarming. An emotional roller coaster is just the same feelings except times 100! After a while you are no longer screaming from the downs you are experiencing, all you desperately want is to get the hell off and be on a straight, even flowing emotional state for a while.
                           
Last night my emotional roller coaster dipped below my normal threshold which it occasionally does, but has not done in quite a while. Last night was one of those nights in which I lost control and started shouting  the things I usually control myself not to say!


                                             
                                 
"I hate this life".
"Why am I trying so hard to save this family?"
"I hate all of this and I do not know why I bother, you should be out there living on the street instead of  making your sisters and I suffer like this".
"Most parents would not tolerate this disrespectful insolence for as long as I have".
Then the worst thing a parent can say, "I hate you!".

This was in response to a fall out over the fact that my son has not cleaned up all his mess from his poppy preparation, only some of it, for weeks now. Instead of accepting that he needs to clean up more, he challenges me and turns it into a role reversal in which he is telling me off as if I am in the wrong.

Statements form my son hit me hard and disgusted me and that is why I started to react in such an irrational emotional way. My reaction was much more than anger and disappointment, it was also a deep sense of frustration that I have no control over his behaviour toward me or his sisters. I would almost be able to accept that I have no control over his personal decisions that affect his own body and his life, but when I have no control over how he treats me or his sisters and how I have no influence over what he deems as acceptable behaviour, that frustration is overwhelming at times. That is when I snap.

This is some of the onslaught I experienced from my son:

"I am doing it for you, I really really really don't want to do it."
"I told you, I told you, I told you".................(so many statements started with him shouting those three words aggressively at me that I do not even remember what followed all the "I TOLD YOU"s).
"I am clean, because I have had no opiates for two days, but smoking legal highs, drinking and popping pills, that is normal."
"You need to stop being such a cunt. You are insulting me because you don't see my achievements, You never appreciate when I am clean".
"Having no opiates is not nice, having the the runs, feeling like shit and you don't even care".
"You are selfish."
"You are in no way supporting me, it's all a lie".
"You should not criticize me for my drugs when I am doing it for you, sacrificing everything for you".
"You have no authority to be a cunt, you have a responsibility to make me wedges or chips or whatever I want when I want, midnight or any time, because it is your duty".
"You have given me no motivation, nothing in exchange for drugs, except being a selfish, cowardly, cunt of a mother who doesn't give a damn that he is doing this all for her".

                                   

Some of these statements were before I snapped and some were after and there was many ugly words being thrown about last night. It started because he did not finish the job I set out for him ages ago. The job that has been waiting weeks to be done and a few days ago it was halfway done. Because of a simple chore set by a parent, he retaliated and tried to put me in the wrong. Boundaries are always being crossed and I pointed that out! Because of this completely disrespectful behaviour I refused to make him dinner (the girls and I had pizza a few hours before, but he does not like pizza so I said I would make him something later).

When I started to walk away from the situation the remote control was flung at me with such force that I could hear the air swishing by me as it missed me. The last time, years ago, I got in the line of fire of a remote being thrown I had a split lip! Don't get me wrong, these more physical aspects of my son's anger are not every day behaviours and in fact do not happen very often. He has never laid a hand on me or his sisters, but as I said in another recent post, it is all relative, and it is not the number of times he has been aggressive or in what manner, the fact that he has been aggressive towards me and his sisters is enough to make it wrong.

Tomorrow he sees his key worker with a possible visit to the GP as well. Wednesday we are being visited by the Social Worker along with  a member form the Family Solutions team to "see" whether or not we are the right "candidates" for their service! I am tempted, oh I am SO tempted to say on both occasions that I HAVE HAD ENOUGH!

                                          
                                             
Or do I keep on persevering and being beat down in hopes that soon someone will get through to him? Do I wait and see if he gets into the community rehab in Dec/Jan? I really honestly do not know how much more I can take, how much more I can allow. I have been at this point of inner conflict before, many times before! Each time I feel I am closer to my breaking point. No matter how strong we are, we all have a breaking point, yet I am consistently trying not to reach that point. Then I ask myself, am I really doing that? Am I fighting so that I don't reach my breaking point, or am I ignoring the writing on the wall and simply allowing things to continue as they are?

Sunday, Not So Funday

Generally you would think that a weekend in the life of an 18 year old would be busy and maybe you would not see too much of him unless he was hungry or needed some cash to go out with his friends or wanted to borrow the keys to the car.



Things are a bit different in our house, except the not seeing much of my son part, but that is because he has slept most of the weekend away, as every day. While I write this, it is 6:45 pm and he has still not surfaced. We are about to have dinner...hmm oregano chicken and rice for breakfast son?

His weekend has been one of sleeping during the day. Drifting in and out of sleep on the sofa at night while watching TV. He became extremely anxious on Friday night because he was asked to meet a friend and his friends at the pub. He was anxious because it has been many months since he has done any socialising. After taking copious amounts of opium to calm himself down, the plans were cancelled. Saturday he was meant to meet that same friend at 1:30 pm at the park since Friday's planned fizzled out, but my son slept through the day, until his friend was trying to get some sense out of me, but I was not home. Saturday afternoon and evening he spent feeling guilty and anxious about not knowing what to do about said friend because he did not know what to say. I also tried to talk to him about "things" Saturday. Sunday morning he went to bed at about 7:30 am after more than likely falling a sleep for a bit on the sofa. I came down to see that the sofa was drenched in beer because he probably fell asleep with the beer in his hand and eventually spilled it. During the course of the weekend he has had opium, benzos, barbiturates (phenobarbital), quaaludes (methaqualone in the UK), codeine syrup, alcohol, and smoked some substance in his vaporiser. Saturday he never even got dressed. He talked to no one other than me. He did not go out.



So my son does not live alone of course. I am here and so are his two sisters, 8 and 13 years old. Saturday was OK because I had plans to take my youngest to see a friend and her mom for coffee. While getting into the car when we finished we bumped into another friend of mine and I ended up giving her a lift to work and having another coffee and a chat since she got to work so early! It felt good to be out and be spontaneous and share a few laughs and not being at home!

However, I was disappointed that my other daughter would not come, she is starting to get into this, "I don't want to do anything" stage and I am sure much of this is to do with the emotional stresses at home. Once home though, my energy vanishes and my mood changes. I spent some time on the computer and cooked a nice meal, which unfortunately we at in front of the TV because none of us can really face sitting down around the dinner table together any more.

Sunday has been a very lethargic day for us all. I feel responsible for this in regard to myself and my daughters. Can you believe we woke and came downstairs, I saw the wet sofa cushions and the room reeked of beer. I knew my son had just gone to bed so that he would be out all day. I felt ashamed that he bailed on his friend and no contact had been made. I was disgusted by the mess of ground up opium poppy husks and all the mess from his detailed preparations that were still in the kitchen. I knew we had no plans for the day. We were cold and it was grey and dismal outside. My daughters and I sat down, had breakfast and all of us sat like zombies (either playing on a phone, on the laptop, or watching cartoons. We sat like that for 3 hours, I am quite embarrassed to admit that!



No one understands that the atmosphere in the house is hindered by this constant involvement from drugs and the affects it has on us all. We have all become dysfunctional to some extent or another. The mere fact that I know he is sleeping it off all day and has no life, drains me from wanting to do anything. The guilt in me that even if I would try to have a "normal" life with my daughters while he is locked away in his room either sleeping or taking drugs or doing nothing, alone, alienated, excluded is too much for me sometimes. If he was away from home than that would be less of a powerful deterrent to me, but I do not know of course how I would feel if he was no longer here. Much would depend on the circumstances on where he was and how he would be living.

Finally we all showered and dressed, besides my son, who continues to sleep. We did manage to go into town and do a few things. The low mood in the house remains. I feel I should have within my power as a mother, the head of the household, the only responsible adult here,  to shake myself out of it and get energised with outgoing enthusiasm and teach my daughters to get up and lets enjoy life to the fullest....but I am not doing that and it feeds the vicious cycle of guilt.



Tomorrow though, we will get up and start our day fresh. My daughters will go to school, see their friends, enjoy themselves and come home and tell me all about my day. I will get up too and make sure the girls get to school and come home to make my phone calls and run my errands etc and talk to my friends. We will have appointments, training, clubs, meetings etc during the week, thank God! My son....he will sleep. He will start his week as an unordinary teenager which will be exactly the same as his weekend.

 I know my blog posts can vary from being contemplations to informative to just venting, so I hope you all bare with me if my posts sometimes seem to be random at times, but like the life we are living with an addict our lives and thoughts are on a roller coaster and maybe so to are my blog posts at times!

And if anyone is interested in some of what my son is taking, names some of you might not be familiar with, here are some links. Most bought on the internet. Many times disposed of by me, but always replaced by him, often after the stealing the money from me to do so.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Methaqualone

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barbiturate

Genetics or Learning, or Both?

Are we all predisposed to addiction? Is there such a thing as an addictive personality?

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Addictive_personality


There are definitely socially acceptable addictions such as exercise/sport addictions and legal addictions such as social networking addictions! Of course we have all known "workaholics" and "shopoholics". These are all forms of not being able to function without something and has in essence taken over the person's life. However, we praise and admire the athlete who trains endless amount of hours each and every day, who in fact feels unwell and unsettled  if not able to train. We often praise the workaholic who spends his life working to "provide" for his family. However there are many forms of addiction; whether it be sport, food, sex, gambling, shopping, work, social networking, mobile phones, video games, the internet, alcohol or the most stereotypically negative which is the drug addict.




As far as people being predisposed, well I think there is enough evidence to say that , yes, we are predisposed to addiction. It does not mean that that is the only factor in addiction. Of course there are behavioural factors such as poor coping mechanisms, learned behaviour and psychological elements which of all part of addiction as well. Yet there is no denying that genetics play a role, we have always heard comments such as, " he is an alcoholic, his father was an alcoholic, so what did you expect?". For many years I think people thought is was just the way it was with some people. Don't get me wrong, there is truth in learning negative, self destructive behaviour, but I think there needs to be something in the brain that make some people become addicts.

http://www.drugabuse.gov/publications/addiction-science/genes-environment-comorbidity/studies-have-shown-40-60-percent-predisposition-to-addiction-can




I am sure I have intimated before that my ex husband has many issues of his own and one thing that was an issue for me but not for him, was his drinking. I still tend to believe that while we were together my ex husband displayed an alcoholic personality. I think this because for one, if he had one drink he could not stop at that. He could not calm down and relax and enjoy any social situation without having quite a few drinks and in fact would get quite agitated if he was not "allowed" a drink. As the years went on, the amount of drink he would consume in one sitting increased and as it did so his aggression and tension also increased while he was "sober". I once set him the goal not to drink for a short period after our first child was born and after just a few days he became very angry that he could not sleep and he was not feeling well because of it so therefore he will no longer entertain my silly "challenge" and went back to drinking. Many times he would look unwell, red beady eyes, puffy and smelling horrible in the morning as he went to work.



When ever the subject would come up that maybe his drinking is turning into more than just casual, he would refute this argument with the "I do not have a drink in the morning, therefore I am not an alcoholic. I do not have a problem, you do". Not all alcoholics drink in the morning, that is at least my opinion.

My ex husband's father also drank a lot and in all honesty it was the norm and the excepted thing that men drink, they go out drinking, they drink a lot, so let them be.

While my ex husband and father in law were quite compelled to drink and could not easily stop when they did, my ex sister in law, in my mind, also has an addictive personality but always used that compulsion to  do things excessively to good use; studying, working and especially running. She can not imagine life without running and sometimes would design her holidays and work trips to coincide with races, training, etc.. Having children did not even stop her, she was out there running the track while pushing her baby's buggy!

I believe that my son has a genetic predisposition to addiction, he has been psychologically "damaged" which led to the desire to escape through drugs as well as having a role model from whom he learned behaviours such as using substances/alcohol as a coping mechanism which help us we hide from our emotional pain.



I do not think it is easy to explain addiction and it is different for each individual while those individuals share many similarities as well. Genetics is of course only one element of addiction.

More interesting is that of all the addictions, drug addiction is still portrayed as the junkie shooting up, the low life, the pot head who sits in a cloud of smoke all day, the "off his face nutter" in the street. Well it is not like that as everyone reading this knows! People also seem to think that giving up drugs would be "easier" than giving up many other addictions, that also I do not understand and is again as we all know, not at all the case. For the addicted, it doesn't matter what the addiction is, what matters is the painful emotional dependency as well as the physical need to continue with that addiction.

Anyone who is addicted has their reasons that are often multiple and very complex. Giving up and relearning coping skills, learning to fill their time with other things that are productive rather than destructive, reforming relationships as well as saying goodbye to others, the list goes on, takes a lot of work and courage and perseverance. We need to try to understand and never forget that these people who suffer from addiction are people who need support.