An update and blog entry is long overdue and I hope to get one out early next week! In the meantime I wanted to ask all my readers a favour! As those readers who have read many of my posts, you are familiar with our struggle to receive adequate mental health care. My son has been in the mental ward as an in patient three times, each time he was in there for several weeks. Each time very little is done besides stabilizing his condition, looking at medication and giving him a safe environment. There is no therapy, there has been no therapy outside in the community as his mental health appointments are roughly one in 3-4 months. Each appointment is to see how he is taking his medication and if any medication needs to be changed or stopped. I have asked time and time again for my son to be put on the waiting list for talking therapies, basically one to one sessions with a psychiatrist or psychologist. The waiting list is 2 years and that is if he meets the criteria. So far he is not on the waiting list. My son has voiced to me before that he would seek out a private psychiatrist if he could afford it.
Also his drug worker went on maternity leave about 6 months ago and the worker covering for her has only seen my son 3 times.
I am tenacious! I do not give up! I am depressed and have a shitty life but that does not mean I am going to give up, especially on my children! So therefore I have started a Go Fund Me campaign to see if we can raise enough money to get the private care that we can not afford to do on our own. I would be very grateful if any of my readers could share the link on their Facebook, Twitter or Google+ pages. I am looking to get support as well as raise awareness that our system just is not working despite all the political talk of improving the mental health services in the UK.
Here is the link and I hope I can see some support and I will be writing a "proper" blog entry in the next week or so!
gofund.me/25jmngdg
Wednesday, 25 May 2016
Friday, 18 March 2016
It is Killing Me to Love You!
How do you love an addict? And why love an addict? Because we do not choose who we fall in love with. Who our children or loved ones turn out to be are out of our hands. We do NOT in fact love the addict. We actually HATE the addiction! We love who the addict once was, who we thought they were or who we would have liked them to be. We love the goodness underneath all the destruction that addiction has created upon their very being. We love the potential of who they could be if it were not for addiction sucking all the motivation and ability out of them. We love them, who they really are and they can no longer see under the darkness addiction has blanketed them in. We can not stop loving them regardless of the fact that they believe they love their drugs more than anything else, when in fact their drugs are tricking them into and not letting them see how much there is for them to love without drugs!
I spend quite a lot of time with my son, but it is not the kind of time I would like. Time taking him to appointments. Time calling him and ringing sometimes over 30 times in succession to make sure he answers so I know he is alive. Time cleaning and caring for him. Time making sure he has food, electricity etc.. Time being out with him trying to run some errands and having members of the public look at him oddly. Time arguing with him. Time listening to him talk to me like no good mother should ever be spoken to. Time watching him do drugs. Time listening to him talk about drugs. Time listening to him about his plans for the future which consist off stocking up on drugs, making drugs, tying new drugs. Time listening him complain about how he has nothing and no one in his life but drugs (and me). All the quantity, with very little quality. But I still love him.
I have watched painfully a "life" no mother ever wants for her child. I have watched while the one life addiction possessed knock all the lives of those involved down, like evil dominoes. I have watched, paralysed with fear and depression, being helpless to the intoxication and toxic affect drugs have on my beloved son. I have tried to fight that demon and tried to show my son that life is good and he is worthy of a happy life, but time and time again, the drugs win because they give an immediate gratification which hide all the pain, living in reality is incapable of hiding pain. Promises of a bright future with love and education, career, travel, dreams fulfilled, all require time and the belief in oneself and the dedication and motivation to make it possible. Addiction takes all that away and falsely tells the addict they "she"will make it better. And so the cycle continues and continues and continues. We all suffer, we all feel defeated.
On top of it all, as if watching my first born child, and my only son be seduced by addiction isn't hard enough, I fall in love with a recovering addict who has shown me that no matter how well you overcome the dysfunctional cycle of addiction and successfully create a "better" life, addiction will ALWAYS own you. You will always be fighting it in times of stress and unhappiness as she whispers to you to come back to her because only she loves you and only she can make you happy.
Falling in love with a recovering addict who eventually turned back to drugs, cunningly with prescription medication, but also using more and more recreational drugs until his life was in utter chaos, showed me another one if the pitfalls of loving an addict: they learn to become masters of deception! Addicts lie all the time! They lie to those who love them, they lie to professionals involved with them, be it probation, doctors, drug workers, whoever is involved with trying to help them. They lie to landlords, school or work colleagues (if they are fortunate enough to be in education or employment), but most importantly they lie to themselves! And sometimes they get a glimmer of the truth and feel shame for the lies, so they take more drugs to hide away from that horrible realisation.
So yes, addicts become very skilful liars and manipulators. In the case of the man I fell in love with, his lying became so ingrained in him that he became, and is, a compulsive liar and I sometimes wonder if he even realises when he is lying. He has told me so many lies that I do not know any
more when or how to ever trust what he tells me is the truth. My son, thankfully, oh yes so thankful for little things, still tries to lie to me, but often says, "Oh what is the point in lying to you" and then I get the truth. Ironically, when I get the truth (which I already knew but was not spoken out loud) I am then sorry to know the truth because my son will go into great detail of all the ins and outs of what he is taking, how he is taking it and so on.
This is what loving an addict looks like, this is a typical day.
My son and I made a plan that I would come over. We would do some unpacking and tidying up together, then exploring his new neighbourhood, look at a few shops for things for his flat and then go get something to eat before I would have to return for the school run, When I arrived it was clear things were not going to go according to plan as my son had already indulged. I decided to start cleaning in hopes of making him feel better whilst improving his state of mind giving him a less chaotic environment at home. He sat there and he took drugs with me in the room and I felt defeated. I watched him slowly collapse and then briefly pass out.
Another day when my son was at my house and looking through my medicines to see if I had anything "good" and talking once again of drugs, drugs, drugs I could not help but get fed up and say the type of thing I feel I should not say: " Oh how I wish I was sitting here with my son having a "normal" conversation about how uni or work is going. We could be laughing at your stories of what happened when you went out with your friends. You could be telling me about how things are going with your girlfriend and how your flat is coming along as you set it up as your home." It was very upsetting for my son to hear me say such things because it feeds the self fulfilling prophecy and vicious cycle that he is in:
I feel low and bad about myself > I take drugs > my mother thinks I am a failure > I am a failure > Lets take more drugs >I feel low and bad about myself and so on!
Then I feel bad for saying it and feel more frustrated and get more agitated, it keeps feeding the negative fires we have perfected living in!
But when the day is done and I drive away from my son, or hang up the phone, it is irrelevant that I am angry or sad or frustrated by how my son "lives" his life chained to what controls him, drugs and addiction, because I remember that I love him and I worry about him! Sometimes, actually often, I see the little boy behind all the messy unkept hair, scraggly beard and dazed and often vacant eyes, and I miss him. Other times I look at him and see how he can still turn things around and he still has potential, yet the drugs are slowly killing his brain and his soul.
As far as the man I love, I still love him but I have my eyes more open now and I will not let his lies empower him to take advantage of me any longer. If he needs or wants my friendship, love and support to help him if he should ever make those decisions then I will be here for him. Loving two addicts and two emotionally stunted and manipulative people is very challenging to my mental health and extremely draining. At the end of the day my son is my son who needs me more and the man I love is a friend who has not committed himself to me so therefore I must try to let go because I had made him an emotional priority for too long. This man did not choose for all the horrible things in his life which lead to his addiction. You can not choose who you fall in love with, and I must say I still do love him. However, I can choose how I react to him and he can indeed choose to be a real part of my life or not, and what that would entail.
So we do not choose to love addicts just as much as they have not chosen to be addicts. The drug is not the enemy, when you think about it, the enemy is emotional pain or damage that has created a need to use drugs to make life "better", that is why not everyone who has tried or taken drugs turn into an addicts. If that were the case most of use would be addicts! There needs to be healing before the addiction can end, but it is a very painful process to begin the psychology dissection of self whilst trying to identify the source of that emotional pain!
I spend quite a lot of time with my son, but it is not the kind of time I would like. Time taking him to appointments. Time calling him and ringing sometimes over 30 times in succession to make sure he answers so I know he is alive. Time cleaning and caring for him. Time making sure he has food, electricity etc.. Time being out with him trying to run some errands and having members of the public look at him oddly. Time arguing with him. Time listening to him talk to me like no good mother should ever be spoken to. Time watching him do drugs. Time listening to him talk about drugs. Time listening to him about his plans for the future which consist off stocking up on drugs, making drugs, tying new drugs. Time listening him complain about how he has nothing and no one in his life but drugs (and me). All the quantity, with very little quality. But I still love him.
I have watched painfully a "life" no mother ever wants for her child. I have watched while the one life addiction possessed knock all the lives of those involved down, like evil dominoes. I have watched, paralysed with fear and depression, being helpless to the intoxication and toxic affect drugs have on my beloved son. I have tried to fight that demon and tried to show my son that life is good and he is worthy of a happy life, but time and time again, the drugs win because they give an immediate gratification which hide all the pain, living in reality is incapable of hiding pain. Promises of a bright future with love and education, career, travel, dreams fulfilled, all require time and the belief in oneself and the dedication and motivation to make it possible. Addiction takes all that away and falsely tells the addict they "she"will make it better. And so the cycle continues and continues and continues. We all suffer, we all feel defeated.
On top of it all, as if watching my first born child, and my only son be seduced by addiction isn't hard enough, I fall in love with a recovering addict who has shown me that no matter how well you overcome the dysfunctional cycle of addiction and successfully create a "better" life, addiction will ALWAYS own you. You will always be fighting it in times of stress and unhappiness as she whispers to you to come back to her because only she loves you and only she can make you happy.
Falling in love with a recovering addict who eventually turned back to drugs, cunningly with prescription medication, but also using more and more recreational drugs until his life was in utter chaos, showed me another one if the pitfalls of loving an addict: they learn to become masters of deception! Addicts lie all the time! They lie to those who love them, they lie to professionals involved with them, be it probation, doctors, drug workers, whoever is involved with trying to help them. They lie to landlords, school or work colleagues (if they are fortunate enough to be in education or employment), but most importantly they lie to themselves! And sometimes they get a glimmer of the truth and feel shame for the lies, so they take more drugs to hide away from that horrible realisation.
So yes, addicts become very skilful liars and manipulators. In the case of the man I fell in love with, his lying became so ingrained in him that he became, and is, a compulsive liar and I sometimes wonder if he even realises when he is lying. He has told me so many lies that I do not know any
more when or how to ever trust what he tells me is the truth. My son, thankfully, oh yes so thankful for little things, still tries to lie to me, but often says, "Oh what is the point in lying to you" and then I get the truth. Ironically, when I get the truth (which I already knew but was not spoken out loud) I am then sorry to know the truth because my son will go into great detail of all the ins and outs of what he is taking, how he is taking it and so on.
This is what loving an addict looks like, this is a typical day.
My son and I made a plan that I would come over. We would do some unpacking and tidying up together, then exploring his new neighbourhood, look at a few shops for things for his flat and then go get something to eat before I would have to return for the school run, When I arrived it was clear things were not going to go according to plan as my son had already indulged. I decided to start cleaning in hopes of making him feel better whilst improving his state of mind giving him a less chaotic environment at home. He sat there and he took drugs with me in the room and I felt defeated. I watched him slowly collapse and then briefly pass out.
Another day when my son was at my house and looking through my medicines to see if I had anything "good" and talking once again of drugs, drugs, drugs I could not help but get fed up and say the type of thing I feel I should not say: " Oh how I wish I was sitting here with my son having a "normal" conversation about how uni or work is going. We could be laughing at your stories of what happened when you went out with your friends. You could be telling me about how things are going with your girlfriend and how your flat is coming along as you set it up as your home." It was very upsetting for my son to hear me say such things because it feeds the self fulfilling prophecy and vicious cycle that he is in:
I feel low and bad about myself > I take drugs > my mother thinks I am a failure > I am a failure > Lets take more drugs >I feel low and bad about myself and so on!
Then I feel bad for saying it and feel more frustrated and get more agitated, it keeps feeding the negative fires we have perfected living in!
But when the day is done and I drive away from my son, or hang up the phone, it is irrelevant that I am angry or sad or frustrated by how my son "lives" his life chained to what controls him, drugs and addiction, because I remember that I love him and I worry about him! Sometimes, actually often, I see the little boy behind all the messy unkept hair, scraggly beard and dazed and often vacant eyes, and I miss him. Other times I look at him and see how he can still turn things around and he still has potential, yet the drugs are slowly killing his brain and his soul.
As far as the man I love, I still love him but I have my eyes more open now and I will not let his lies empower him to take advantage of me any longer. If he needs or wants my friendship, love and support to help him if he should ever make those decisions then I will be here for him. Loving two addicts and two emotionally stunted and manipulative people is very challenging to my mental health and extremely draining. At the end of the day my son is my son who needs me more and the man I love is a friend who has not committed himself to me so therefore I must try to let go because I had made him an emotional priority for too long. This man did not choose for all the horrible things in his life which lead to his addiction. You can not choose who you fall in love with, and I must say I still do love him. However, I can choose how I react to him and he can indeed choose to be a real part of my life or not, and what that would entail.
So we do not choose to love addicts just as much as they have not chosen to be addicts. The drug is not the enemy, when you think about it, the enemy is emotional pain or damage that has created a need to use drugs to make life "better", that is why not everyone who has tried or taken drugs turn into an addicts. If that were the case most of use would be addicts! There needs to be healing before the addiction can end, but it is a very painful process to begin the psychology dissection of self whilst trying to identify the source of that emotional pain!
Monday, 22 February 2016
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)
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.
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 :| )
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.
Sunday, 21 February 2016
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.
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.
Wednesday, 11 November 2015
Failed
I think, if I could, I would cease to exist. I do not see the point of this life, yet I do not want to die. I have postponed writing, though I find it cathartic, because I know the tears will flow and I am so tired of tears.
You must first understand me. All my life, from early childhood, no matter how my life and it's goals and dreams changed, one thing always remained constant: my desire to be a mother.
I will cut through the years of drama and get straight to the point, I have three children, I have failed them all and nothing is worse than that life sentence than having to watch my children suffer thanks to my inability to provide the life they needed to flourish.
My oldest is suffering the most, My middle child is clearly also damaged. My youngest will soon follow because of neglect and learning.
My two older children have both complained that they did not have happy childhood. They have emotional problems, possibly mental health problems, both have suffered and one still suffers with addiction (self harming for one, drugs for another) and both are socially isolated, one severely, the other mildly. They are unhappy. They blame me. My oldest does not live a normal life at all and it is my constant worry that one day I will lose him forever. My daughter is resentful and cold, not displaying any empathy for her family. There is a severe lack of warmth, communication, happiness and family cohesion. We are ALL depressed and I can see my youngest will soon follow suit as she is communicating less and less and has been neglected by me and been denied a normal childhood. She was 2 when her father and I split, she was 3 when her brother started using drugs, 5 when her brother was excluded from school, 6 through 8 when she experienced police involvement in her home, 8 when the police raided our home and made us evacuate, 8 when her family was dragged through the local papers, 9 when her brother was made homeless, 10 when her sister attempted suicide and now her brother has had another arrest, court, eviction and homelessness (all taking up much of my time). All these things came attached with countless number of appointments, service workers coming into our home, police in our home, emergencies, tears, arguments and hours of me being away from the home and leaving her alone with the tv and computer. Now it is no surprise that the TV and the computer are the main things in my little girl's life outside of school.
I have failed in my most important dream, motherhood. I have helped create 3 unhappy children that may all turn into unhappy and dysfunctional adults. I have failed them.
We do not share in family meals, there is little chatter and even less laughter in our house. We have no extended family and very little friends. My abilities to deal with all is taking it's toll and the household is in a shambles. My children have few, if any friends (my son has zero) and my daughters rarely are involved in social activities. We never have people over because I have let the house deteriorate and there is a sense of shame and tension inside these walls.
So my son: homeless, drug addict who is now scoring heroin on the streets and on probation again. Possible mental health issues which makes every element of daily life almost impossible. He is alone and very unhappy.
My middle daughter: depressed, high achiever, self harmer (though that seems to be under control), insomniac, socially isolated, resentful, withdrawn and has erased her brother from her life.
My youngest daughter: well she has just missed out way too much and has been left to her own devises too much, not mentioning that she has been exposed to many serious adult issues from an early age.
I do not want to exist. I have failed. I have not created a life worth living and to make my life more of a crime I have subjected three innocent lives to a life of emptiness and unhappiness with no possible vision of change ahead.
I am tired, sad, very defeated and in so much emotional pain, that my dreams have crumbled before they had a chance to flourish and I see no point why I have existed at all.
Be careful what you wish you, they may come true. I wished for motherhood, never ever contemplating the difficulties that my children and I may encounter!
You must first understand me. All my life, from early childhood, no matter how my life and it's goals and dreams changed, one thing always remained constant: my desire to be a mother.
I will cut through the years of drama and get straight to the point, I have three children, I have failed them all and nothing is worse than that life sentence than having to watch my children suffer thanks to my inability to provide the life they needed to flourish.
My oldest is suffering the most, My middle child is clearly also damaged. My youngest will soon follow because of neglect and learning.
My two older children have both complained that they did not have happy childhood. They have emotional problems, possibly mental health problems, both have suffered and one still suffers with addiction (self harming for one, drugs for another) and both are socially isolated, one severely, the other mildly. They are unhappy. They blame me. My oldest does not live a normal life at all and it is my constant worry that one day I will lose him forever. My daughter is resentful and cold, not displaying any empathy for her family. There is a severe lack of warmth, communication, happiness and family cohesion. We are ALL depressed and I can see my youngest will soon follow suit as she is communicating less and less and has been neglected by me and been denied a normal childhood. She was 2 when her father and I split, she was 3 when her brother started using drugs, 5 when her brother was excluded from school, 6 through 8 when she experienced police involvement in her home, 8 when the police raided our home and made us evacuate, 8 when her family was dragged through the local papers, 9 when her brother was made homeless, 10 when her sister attempted suicide and now her brother has had another arrest, court, eviction and homelessness (all taking up much of my time). All these things came attached with countless number of appointments, service workers coming into our home, police in our home, emergencies, tears, arguments and hours of me being away from the home and leaving her alone with the tv and computer. Now it is no surprise that the TV and the computer are the main things in my little girl's life outside of school.
I have failed in my most important dream, motherhood. I have helped create 3 unhappy children that may all turn into unhappy and dysfunctional adults. I have failed them.
We do not share in family meals, there is little chatter and even less laughter in our house. We have no extended family and very little friends. My abilities to deal with all is taking it's toll and the household is in a shambles. My children have few, if any friends (my son has zero) and my daughters rarely are involved in social activities. We never have people over because I have let the house deteriorate and there is a sense of shame and tension inside these walls.
So my son: homeless, drug addict who is now scoring heroin on the streets and on probation again. Possible mental health issues which makes every element of daily life almost impossible. He is alone and very unhappy.
My middle daughter: depressed, high achiever, self harmer (though that seems to be under control), insomniac, socially isolated, resentful, withdrawn and has erased her brother from her life.
My youngest daughter: well she has just missed out way too much and has been left to her own devises too much, not mentioning that she has been exposed to many serious adult issues from an early age.
I do not want to exist. I have failed. I have not created a life worth living and to make my life more of a crime I have subjected three innocent lives to a life of emptiness and unhappiness with no possible vision of change ahead.
I am tired, sad, very defeated and in so much emotional pain, that my dreams have crumbled before they had a chance to flourish and I see no point why I have existed at all.
Be careful what you wish you, they may come true. I wished for motherhood, never ever contemplating the difficulties that my children and I may encounter!
Wednesday, 7 October 2015
Living in Fear
I had a moment this morning in which I though, "It is as if I am just waiting for my son to die". Terrible, isn't it? It is not a thing I want, it is not as if I am waiting for it eagerly. Obviously not. I am leaving in fear and that fear always makes me fear that, "maybe now is the time I will have my nightmares become reality". The fear paralysis me. If I am not doing something to spend time with my son, or feel like I am doing something to help him, I am petrified and immobilized!
Yesterday I took my son to the bank and to Taco Bell. He was obviously high. I asked him on what, on heroin. It apparently is not a nice high he likes and he was slurred and sedated but still anxious and feeling "bad". I know that people can sense that there is something not quite right when they look at my son or he speaks to them. I am ashamed yet not ashamed at the same time. I enjoy his company, yet I am frustrated because it is not the company I most enjoy. I enjoy being with him, knowing he is safe and alive; however, I secretly wish that I was spending time in his "real" unaltered" company.
Last night I had numerous emails from my son. The police still has his phone so we can only communicate via email. The last email was at 4:45 a.m. confirming our plans for today. I was picking him up at 10:00 am, we were going out to breakfast and the going to One Support to discuss housing. http://www.onehousinggroup.co.uk/sites/default/files/Essex%20Floating%20Support%20service.pdf
I emailed him this morning saying that I will leave at 10:00 am but if he could please e-mail me when he woke, so I know he is awake and ready! So I waited til 10:20 am and then left home. When I arrived I buzzed from outside the building because it is a secured building and you need to buzz the tenants or office to open the door. I buzzed repeatedly about 30 times. I know what the buzzer sounds like since I have heard it before. It is loud and prolonged. I was getting increasingly anxious that he was not responding to these loud and persistent noises! I buzzed the office. They went to check on him. Well the staff member was upstairs for about 10 minutes. I was getting more and more scared. Imagining the staff giving him mouth to mouth and trying to resuscitate a limp and lifeless body. The body of my son. Why was he taking so long? Is he calling the police and paramedics? What was going on? I was feeling weak in the legs and the tears were welling up. The man came back down and he said that there is no one there! I said that is impossible. Did he go inside the flat? No he only knocked! I explained that my son was expecting me and he emailed me in the early hours of the morning and he would not have gone out and that he needs to go inside and check on him. He said he will go to the office and check the fob key records and see if he has left the building! I was left outside in the cold, as the cold inside me grew. I was crying by this point, the tears flowed freely, I felt my neck getting wet from their flow. Finally the man returned and said that he will go upstairs and go inside the flat! I continued to wait outside, fearing and imaging the worse. Finally, after what he seemed like an eternity he returned, smiling that he is ok, he is out cold, snoring in his bed, but out cold! I was relieved. He saw how shook up I was and I told him that I often fear that one day I wont have him in my life anymore. He offered me a cup of coffee and I sat in the office and chatted and when I was no longer shaky I left. He assured me that he would go up and see my son later and also tell him I was here.
As soon as I arrived home at 11:30 I emailed my son and explained what happened, in short omitting all my fears. I asked him to email me when he wakes up. It is now 2:30 pm and still no email. I have been sitting on my sofa with my laptop, looking at my emails vigilantly. I have had the TV on to create a feeling of life around me. I have mountains of chores to do but my fears continues to paralyze me. I should not allow this to happen because I still have my two daughters at home to care for...yet it seems impossible while my son is on the brink of oblivion.
Yesterday I took my son to the bank and to Taco Bell. He was obviously high. I asked him on what, on heroin. It apparently is not a nice high he likes and he was slurred and sedated but still anxious and feeling "bad". I know that people can sense that there is something not quite right when they look at my son or he speaks to them. I am ashamed yet not ashamed at the same time. I enjoy his company, yet I am frustrated because it is not the company I most enjoy. I enjoy being with him, knowing he is safe and alive; however, I secretly wish that I was spending time in his "real" unaltered" company.
Last night I had numerous emails from my son. The police still has his phone so we can only communicate via email. The last email was at 4:45 a.m. confirming our plans for today. I was picking him up at 10:00 am, we were going out to breakfast and the going to One Support to discuss housing. http://www.onehousinggroup.co.uk/sites/default/files/Essex%20Floating%20Support%20service.pdf
I emailed him this morning saying that I will leave at 10:00 am but if he could please e-mail me when he woke, so I know he is awake and ready! So I waited til 10:20 am and then left home. When I arrived I buzzed from outside the building because it is a secured building and you need to buzz the tenants or office to open the door. I buzzed repeatedly about 30 times. I know what the buzzer sounds like since I have heard it before. It is loud and prolonged. I was getting increasingly anxious that he was not responding to these loud and persistent noises! I buzzed the office. They went to check on him. Well the staff member was upstairs for about 10 minutes. I was getting more and more scared. Imagining the staff giving him mouth to mouth and trying to resuscitate a limp and lifeless body. The body of my son. Why was he taking so long? Is he calling the police and paramedics? What was going on? I was feeling weak in the legs and the tears were welling up. The man came back down and he said that there is no one there! I said that is impossible. Did he go inside the flat? No he only knocked! I explained that my son was expecting me and he emailed me in the early hours of the morning and he would not have gone out and that he needs to go inside and check on him. He said he will go to the office and check the fob key records and see if he has left the building! I was left outside in the cold, as the cold inside me grew. I was crying by this point, the tears flowed freely, I felt my neck getting wet from their flow. Finally the man returned and said that he will go upstairs and go inside the flat! I continued to wait outside, fearing and imaging the worse. Finally, after what he seemed like an eternity he returned, smiling that he is ok, he is out cold, snoring in his bed, but out cold! I was relieved. He saw how shook up I was and I told him that I often fear that one day I wont have him in my life anymore. He offered me a cup of coffee and I sat in the office and chatted and when I was no longer shaky I left. He assured me that he would go up and see my son later and also tell him I was here.
As soon as I arrived home at 11:30 I emailed my son and explained what happened, in short omitting all my fears. I asked him to email me when he wakes up. It is now 2:30 pm and still no email. I have been sitting on my sofa with my laptop, looking at my emails vigilantly. I have had the TV on to create a feeling of life around me. I have mountains of chores to do but my fears continues to paralyze me. I should not allow this to happen because I still have my two daughters at home to care for...yet it seems impossible while my son is on the brink of oblivion.
Friday, 2 October 2015
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.
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.
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