Afraid

I am so afraid all the time. I'm afraid of my husband. I'm afraid of my daughter. I'm afraid of my mother. I'm afraid of my granddaughter. I'm even afraid of the stranger on the street. I can write out nice platitudes here, put nice little bookends on my struggles about how 'Jesus Loves Me, This I Know'. But the reality is frustratingly hard.

I'm sick and tired of being afraid. I don't want to worry about offending them. I no longer want to freeze when I have to confront something. I long to be free to have my own opinion and not be intimidated simply because someone has a different one than mine.

I don't mean that I want to go crazy and pummel everyone with my viewpoint like some in my family. Nor is there any shame in remaining silent when it's clear insisting on being heard only exacerbates a conflict. It's the fear that I want to conquer.

Melody is dealing with bullying this week. It's an increasing problem for her. Grace's solution is to teach her to fight back; respond with equal or greater insult. My instinct is to tell Melody to ignore them, give them what they want and maybe they'll go away. Or to step in and deal with the bully for her. Instead we are going to teach her some skills so she can deal with these troubled kids. Maybe I should take notes as we walk through this with her.

But it's more than practicing a canned response, for both Melody and for me. It's learning to stand tall and confident, despite overwhelming mothers who have taught us not to trust our own voice. It means venturing out behind our safe wall and speaking up, no matter what the consequences. There's a good chance those around us want to hear from us. It might not be as bad as we fear.

It's easy to write about here, harder to do. Facing the root causes will probably be even tougher. But I'm ready... Ok, God? Let's deal....

Surrender

One of the most haunting memories in this challenge was when I told God He had my permission to take Grace. It's not like I have control over it anyway, but it was something I had to do ~ perhaps for my own sanity.

It was in the days following her 'escape' from the treatment program. She had checked herself out and we had not heard from her for days. We had put out messages on her Facebook page and email contacts and still no word. I knew she had gone straight back to heroin. She was not only escaping the walls of the treatment center, she was running from us.

We considered reporting her missing. That way if an unidentified body showed up it could be matched against her dental records. Melody's birthday was only a couple of days away, yet we did not hear anything...

It was in the midst of that not-knowing that I felt God asking me to lay down her very life - to give Grace completely over to Him. He knew her future, He knew if she would be able to turn her life around or if she would continue down this destructive path forever. The question for me: if there was a moment when He could bring her safely home, knowing there was no future for her; would I release her? I argued and fought and cried - but I knew it was the only way to find peace.

In my surrender Jesus reassured me that if she dies in this struggle, it would be because there was no other way. He will only allow her death if that is the only way He can ensure she lives forever with Him.

I don't know if that makes sense, but it brings me peace. I have surrendered what was never really mine to hold. In the process, I've felt a touch of God's Heart for His lost children and can trust that He will bring us safely home if we will let Him.

Reflections

As the countdown to New Year marches on this week, I am caught in the swirl of memories of this year. There is no doubt it has been a tough year. But it is better to have our 'issues' out in the open rather than continuing to dance around that elephant in the room. It's embarrassing to remember how strong my denial has been - and can be again if I let it.

Grace is doing so well, better than I think she ever has. Yet I find myself anxious, waiting and steeling my heart in case she falls again. How do I find that balance of trust enough to encourage her yet wise enough to watch for any signs of trouble?

It's a tough fact that she does not get a clean slate or a fresh start even though she's been clean for almost 2 months now. Being clean does not mean she starts at zero again. She's dug herself way down into the negative and it will be a long time before she's back to neutral. Even I find that discouraging and I worry it will cause her to give up.

So this year of harsh reality carries its burdens as we begin a new one. Grace still faces criminal charges for the jewelry she stole from us. CPS will determine permanent custody this year. I can only imagine how each day is a challenge for Grace to stay clean... Change is so hard to make, but maintaining a new direction is even harder.

I can't bring myself to hope for the new year. I am afraid she will fall again, afraid of watching the devestation that would inflict on Melody. On the other hand, I'm afraid she will do well and take Melody. Not only because Grace may cut off any contact with us, but because it means I'm not in control.

My need for control is an ugly drive that damages those around me. I find sutle ways to impose it... sometimes sweet, sometimes overt but always manipulative. My worrying is a way to keep others under my thumb - or try to. Grace rebels against the worry just as easily as the oppressive rules we often placed on her. Both are destructive.

No easy answers, so painless change. Just trying to let go, relax a little and enjoy the ride...

Christmas 2010

It's the end of another Christmas and the familiar bittersweet tears tug at me. I won't let them fall - in part because I'd have to explain them, but I'm not feeling true sorrow either. It's a strange mixture... satisfaction at pulling off another successful event, joy at watching Melody play and celebrate, grief for Dad still, even after so many years, a comfortable pleasure after spending the day with my siblings and families.

Grace made it though another day, another milestone. That was part of the bittersweetness, watching Melody and Grace together. I wish I could guarantee success for them. I still carry residue of that childhood dream that Christmas should equal perfection. But it doesn't.

This year was so much better than most. But not everyone was blissfully happy every second. Grace was fluctuated between boredom and silliness. But she was present. And hubby's new viewpoint on the idolatry of Christmas hurts too. I hope someday I can let go of that burden of responsibility for other's happiness. For now I take comfort in recognizing I am gaining ground and better than I was.

Perhaps Christmas just is bittersweet for middle-aged women. I know I'll never again experience that 'perfect' day that I knew as a child; the mounting excitement that crescendos into the frenzy of discovery beneath the wrapping paper. I grew up with wonderful traditions that I have not been able to carry forward and I miss not being able to walk through them each year.

But mostly I miss my dad on days like this; his voice, his hug, how he could always make me feel safe and secure even when things are so very insecure. That's the piece of Christmas I miss most. That's where the tears are...

Hopelessness Versus Hyper-Hope

I struggle finding balance; with maintaining peace. Grace has agreed to take a class at church with me that focuses on recovery. We'll look at the science of the brain, learn specific techniques to keep our brains functioning as God intended them and how to cope with stress in a healthy way - all based in scripture. It sounds so wonderful and my experience with this teaching has been phenomenal so far.

I find myself fighting the hyper-excitement where I jump and down with glee and assume it will all be ok now. On the other end of the spectrum I get lost in hopelessness. Heroin is a horribly addictive drug that pulls its victim down again and again.

Somewhere in the whirlwind is a balance of hope that she will find the tools to complete and maintain the climb out of hell while letting her find the tools that work for her. I can't do this for her. I can't force it. I can't predict what will work.

I have to know the end of the story before I can enjoy it. I watch the end of the movie or read the end of the book first. I hate suspense. I want to know how it turns out before I can relax and read the story. I find no pleasure in the mystery.

I don't get what I want with this story. Faith tells me that it will be ok in the end. I know a very BIG God loves her and will carry her to safety if she lets Him. I was wrestling a bit with God about this issue last week. I wanted some specific reassurance that she will be saved. His response: Relax and enjoy the ride...

So the walk of trust continues. It's pretty shaky most days. But my trust in not in Grace or her abilities. My hope is not in her decision to take a class with me, even if that class will be filled with information, tools and healing. My trust is in a loving Father who wants me healed just as much as my daughter.

Tasty

Normally I don't like to eat my words. But this time they taste pretty good. I blogged recently about the reaction of some Christians at private school to Grace's struggles. Maybe God saw that I was painting too broad a brush...

On Saturday we went with lots of other 3rd graders to see a live play. As we waited in line to go in, the mom of one of Melody's classmates turned and introduced herself to Grace. She looked Grace square in the eye and spoke of Melody's strong love for her mom. She described what a wonderful girl Melody is, how she loves her mom and Jesus. She talked of her joy in seeing Grace at school chapel previously and how much she wanted to meet her. Her words were genuine and Grace was touched by her welcome.

This mom happened to stand behind my husband and me for refreshments at intermission. She caught our attention and filled in why her heart is so drawn towards Grace. She had struggled as a teenager, run away from God and "gone crazy". She now walks in concert with her Savior. She wanted us to know her story and understand there is HOPE for Grace. Not only for Grace, but for her to fulfill her God-given place as mother for Melody.

So there are those who have suffered and know God's heart for the lost, even in private school. This precious mom brought balance to the school principle who congratulated us when we had to take custody of Melody (I guess cause we would get to see God work wonders) and the headmaster who turned away as soon as I gave an honest report on how Grace was doing. How many times have I reacted in the same superficial way to those fearful events in families around me?

I will gratefully eat my words today. They taste pretty good as I watch the sparkle and wonder in Grace's eye when she says "that mom was really nice - I like her". God's Hands at work...

Draining

Most of the time these days I think she is so normal. I almost forget that she's pulling back from the pit of hell. But today reminds me there is probably more going on than just 'addiction'. Addiction does not happen in a vacuum. And for Grace, watching her hyperactive crazy mood all day makes me think maybe that long-ago diagnosis of bi-polar might not be so wrong. Now that she's stabilizing on methadone, it would make sense that any underlying conditions would become more apparent.

Grace has a wonderful sense of humor. She can crack jokes and observe the funniest things. It was funny for the first few minutes at Costco. But after 10 minutes stretched into 30, the very loud, crazy observations and "I want that or this or buy me this NOW" kinda lost its humor. And by the end of the afternoon I was drained.

I'm sure she saw it as being funny. And most of it was loud, teenage kind of fun, with a very intense edge to it. She's calmed down now, settled back into normal. I can almost convince myself I'm just overtired, that it's all in my head, that I'm the one in a bad mood. Almost.

But what do I do with this knowledge? I don't think it will serve any purpose to say anything. So I'll just file it away and see what happens next. The goal for right now is to not rescue her. I can't smooth over the rough water that she herself stirs up. I can't even rescue Melody from most of it. So I wait and observe and pray...

Pity And Fear

Grace did not want to join my family for Thanksgiving. She was tired of "the look". She aptly described the stares of either pity or fear - or a strange mix of both - when they find out she's a heroin addict.

But she pushed past the embarrassment and came along. She said the best reaction was from my brother, who simply wrapped her in a big hug. No judgement, no fear, no shame. Thank you for that gift, bro.

I saw those looks this week at Melody's school Christmas concert. At a private school it's even worse. We good little Christian people don't know what to do with... shhhhh, don't say it out loud, with... sin; with failure, with those who fall short. We either ignore it or awkwardly pat each other on the back and say 'there, there'. Then walk away thinking what a good deed we have done to show God's love to the unlovely.

I want to shout: IT'S NOT CONTAGIOUS!!!! She won't contaminate your children. Her 9 year old daughter won't somehow leak this disease on to your family. I understand the fear, but I hate the judgement. I believe God sees our choice to act out of fear as sin too. It hurts Him (and us) just as much as that needle in the addict's arm.

Thankfully there are those who flow more closely with God's Heart. Like Sunday, when Grace pushed up her sleeves at church. She was talking to a friend at the time and spoke of her shame of the scars on her arms. Grace was worried she would never fit in with the 'good' people she saw around her.

But this angel spoke the truth to her; "Everyone here has scars. They're just not as visible, but we all have them."

I have to balance all this with the knowledge that I can't protect her from the consequences of her actions. There will always be those who judge her, and hate her, and look down on her for the rest of her life. She will always battle not only inside her heart and mind, but with the outside world. But it hurts more for me when I see that fear and pity coming from God's children. We have so far to go to know His Love and reflect it to our hurting world...

I Am Not Alone

Today's inspiration is this video from a friend (click here) who relates so well to the fear in this little bear. But she and I are both learning to not only recognize Papa God is with us in the midst of the current struggles and attacks, He's been with us all along.

The process of inviting Him to show us where He was during those traumatic moments brings such healing and peace. We are not alone; never have been or ever will be...

Longings

Christmas really sucks this year. Mr. Ketchum is dead. My husband has rejected all things Christmas. My heart breaks watching Grace and Melody struggle for a future together. Sometimes I long for the innocence of childhood when things seemed so much simpler. I know it's denial to pretend its ok when its not. It's almost like denial is a gift given to children but becomes a curse if we carry it into adulthood.

Mr. Ketchum and his tree farm have been our family for 20+ years. I wondered what it would be like to show up without my husband this year. They usually spend an hour chatting and catching up. But Mr. Ketchum died this spring. So the tradition changed even without my husband's recent change of heart. It was still hard to get our tree without Mr. Ketchum and my hubby, but I managed with only a few tears.

But this season is bittersweet too. This may very well be our last Christmas with Mom. She grows weaker each year. And if Grace is better by next Christmas, she will have Melody with her. I can only hope that her threats to never let us have access to Melody once she regains custody are the empty words of an angry, hurt mom.

But that scenario is better than the alternative. I am still so afraid of Grace returning to the poison. I am even more afraid of her returning to it after she gets custody of Melody. And she has to turn this around by next Christmas or CPS will give us permanent custody. That would kill any hope or motivation in Grace. One year is such a short time to undo 15 formative years of addiction...

So many things are out of my control. Kinda freaks me out if I think about it too long.

Maybe I'll just hope for the best - that Grace and Melody will be reunited by next year; that Grace will be strong in conviction and purpose by then; that they will be settled in their own home with lots of visits from granny.

She Is Upset ~ I Am Not

Do you understand what a big deal that is? Grace was upset last night. I started to go there with her, but caught myself and stayed calm. She's mad at her methadone group leader. I started trying to talk her down, but it wasn't helping. I realized she wanted to be mad.

I've come to recognize that pattern. Sometimes she's itching for an excuse to get wasted. This may not have been one of those times; she had been genuinely grieved by this lady. But so often she'll pick a fight on something that doesn't seem like a big deal to me and run with it. In the past, I know that meant she wouldn't be home that night.

Last night, I recognized the little tickle in the back of my brain. I wanted to calm her down not only because I didn't want her to be distressed, but I was afraid if she didn't calm down she would use again.

So I took a deep breath, said 'whatever' to myself and let her vent. I didn't try to correct her (a least not too much - I can only change so much at a time). I didn't go into that frantic panic of worry or rescue. I just let her be.

I will still grieve if this was the excuse that takes her back, but it's her choice. I can't change it. I don't prove anything to her or to myself by being the martyr who goes down with her. I want her healthy and whole. I long for her to grow the skills to be able to handle stress and anger. But she has to want it first. It's up to her - not me. 

Not only is that reality, it means freedom for me.  I feel a bit guilty about that. But it doesn't change a thing. She chooses her path and I choose mine.

Beautiful

12 Steps (click to see). Thank you, Trisha dear!
Hope

Mother Knows Best

We saw Tangled last night, Disney’s new version of the Rapunzel fairytale. There were so many interesting undercurrents to the story, but one that struck me in my journey out of co-dependency was the role of the pretend mom – the only mother Rapunzel had ever known.  

As the audience, we knew she was evil. But she presented herself to Rapunzel as a loving, protective mom who only had the child’s best interest at heart. And there was enough in Gothel’s message for us to see why Rapunzel would grow up trusting the words from her mouth without knowing her heart.

Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t like her, but I understood her. And in some frightening ways, I identified with her. I may not have been after a fountain of youth, but I wanted to hang onto my daughter at all costs.

I’ve always relished the role of caretaker for kids – they look up to me and like me and I feel successful because of it. It was (is) extremely frightening to think I have to be something outside of that role of mother. I still cling to it with the same desperation I saw in Gothel – albeit for different reasons. Who am I without a child?

So I kept Grace safe in my little pretend bubble. I grew up with alcoholics. Like Gothel, I didn’t want Grace to be exposed to the horrors of life. I know what it’s like to see those you love and trust turn mean. I know what it’s like to run and hide when the bottle came out. I was lucky, it was only emotional abuse in our family but the drunkenness is something I avoid to this day.

I remember the first time Grace saw my sister get drunk when she was about 7 years old. She asked me what was wrong with Sis, why her personality had changed. It frightened Grace back then. I had this wild hope that she would be afraid enough to never touch the stuff.

So what now? I wonder what is to become of me? Like Gothel, will I dissolve into dust as I tumble from the tower of my safe, pretend place? Or is there something beautiful outside these walls? I don’t want to know really.  I’d rather stay here. But somehow seeing my daughter become my mother times ten, and watching the damage to her child, tells me it’s time to face the truth.

And even though my motivation is for them, the truth is I cannot change the world for Grace. I cannot choose for her. I cannot protect her. I cannot live my life anchored only in my role as ‘mother’. I have to leap from that tower freely and hope I can discover there is indeed more to me than I think…

Impure Motives

I had to tell my husband and daughter what I’m doing here. I was afraid they would scream and yell and somehow force me to stop. But their reaction was barely a blip on the radar. It’s funny; their disinterest almost hurt. I know its better this way. It will be easier to say what I need to say here if I don’t have to look them in the eye. But I hope I can continue to sort things out by writing them here, then saying what I need to say to them. 
 

Part of the self-examination this weekend was a close look at my motives. And not all of them are pretty. I love to write and find it easier to express myself in a controlled, non-verbal, safe system. I can put the words out there and not worry about your reaction.

In some ways, I write this looking for validation. Am I really the horrible mother who screwed up her kid so bad that she turned to heroin for relief? What could I have done differently? Did I do ANYTHING right? Logically I know we did our best, but on the emotional level I want you to love me for my poetic prose and wonderful openness. And it’s easier to write out my problems here than face them; safer to tell you what I want you to see.

But I also truly hope that by sharing my journey I can help. I may not have answers, but maybe someone with similar struggles might not have to feel so alone. And I know myself well enough that having this outlet will help me sort out my feelings, help me dig deeper. And I want to remember this journey – and the good and the bad. I want to savor each step I’m making towards freedom.

So with that disclaimer, I’m ready to forge ahead. There is much of this story still to tell…

Encouragement

The message I needed so desperately to hear today:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2z15FlTONVo

Balance

There is so much more to Grace than can be seen in my last post. She has faced challenges (many of her own making) that would cripple most of us. She is strong and complex and lovely. I am compelled to balance the last "overview" of her addiction with more important facts about my beautiful daughter.

The years I have described were filled with so much more than the pain and fear I've shared. There were many moments of joy and laughter ~ times of peace and rest. I loved holding my baby, watching her grow. There is much to be proud of, even during the most challenging times.

Grace possesses great strength. She has faced her challenges and is growing from them. She will do whatever it takes to meet a goal if it is important enough for her. Regaining custody of Melody is her current goal and she is putting that strength to good use.

Grace is an incredible mother. I never would have imagined she would step into this role with so much confidence and ability. From the moment she found out she was pregnant, she was profoundly changed. She instinctively knows how to mother; how to nurture and play and discipline in balance.

Grace can make me laugh like no other. I've come close to driving off the road with Grace-induced giggles more than once. She can take something boring and bring it to life with her jokes and teasing.

Grace is so beautiful. Her long hair and expressive eyes draw many a glance from the opposite sex. But it's more than skin deep. She holds herself with grace and poise when her confidence is high.

Grace is determined and a loyal friend.  She has grit and spunk and talent. She is smart. She always wins in Slug Bug. She will fight to the end for a friend. She loves deeply. My daughter inspires me, even in the middle of our struggle. I love hanging out with her. I love her smile.

I think above all Grace is honest. She usually tells it like it is. She doesn't try to hide who she is. Someone at church once told her when she was about 14 that God saw and was pleased with her honest heart. I have to agree with Him.

So there is balance - just a brief glimpse into the 'rest of the story'.

Overview

Since I am hoping to find some order out of this exercise of blogging, I'll start with a quick timeline of the main events in this journey as I remember them:

• At about age 13, we discovered some pills under Grace's mattress along with a knife. She said she was just experimenting. She stole the pills from parents of friends and family. She was just starting to cut herself.
• The binge drinking and smoking grew more obvious over the next few years. Grace was expelled during her sophomore year of private school for smoking pot at school.
• A few months after my husband's dad died, our doctor prescribed Zoloft in hopes we could fix things by treating the depression. It only kicked things into super-intense and weird mode. We forced Grace into a psychiatric hospital for a couple of weeks. The scars from such a confined, controlled experience has had a profound and lasting impact on Grace.
• The day before her 17th birthday, she attended a party and was raped on the way home. In retrospect, it was probably planned and she was likely drugged. Despite all her problems, she was still a virgin and a likely target. I remember looking at the rape cart in the hospital in disbelief. No charges were filed, the guy claimed it was consensual. 
• A few days before her 18th birthday we kicked her out of the house. I remember laying on the couch waiting all night for her to come home. I decided if she did not want to live with us, I wouldn't force it.
• She moved in with her raunchy boyfriend and his crazy family. I still catered to her almost  daily and prayed that she would return home. She ran through a $10,000 inheritance in a few months. After about a year and half, she started to wake up.
• She moved back home and was settled for awhile. She got her GED and started work. We only saw the drinking occasionally. She even got a second job.
• One of Grace's strengths is her honesty. It takes me awhile to acknowledge inside myself there is a problem but when I ask, she'll tell. It was one of those questions that revealed she had started with meth. We kicked her out again.
• 3 weeks later, she was pregnant. She stopped all drugs and drinking and we let her move home again. She somehow found the motivation to stop so she wouldn't harm the baby. But when it was only her body, she didn't care if she lived or died - she only wanted to stop feeling...
• After Melody was born, the slow spiral down started again. It was several years of the occasional all nighter, but generally survivable. In my demented mind, it didn't seem different from I saw in other young adults her age. 
• She was in and out of our house. She lived with a boyfriend that often turned violent before she finally ended the relationship. She moved in with friends when she was 29.
• We started to notice that she was going though money like it was water in her hand. She was fired from her job in April that year. She and Melody moved back home. On Mother's Day she admitted an addiction to Oxycontin. Her doctor gave her something to sleep through the detox and she appeared to stabilize by summer 2009.
• By this spring, it was clear things were not right. After talking with a neighbor about her experience with her grandson who stole her jewelry to support his drug habit, I checked my jewelry stash. It was almost all gone.
• We confronted Grace and she agreed to treatment for her heroin addiction. It was a challenging week as we waited for a bed to open up and she detoxed on her own. After 9 days and lots of fighting with the system, a space opened up at an in-patient treatment center (we insisted on in-patient treatment). Grace lasted 24 hours in the place that reminded he so much of the hospital.
• When I wouldn't pick her up from the treatment center, she turned to her drug "friends" and started using again. CPS placed Melody with us. It took a week before we heard from Grace... some of the longest days of my life.
• Grace is determined to fight her way back under her own terms. After several months, she got signed up on the methadone program. Methadone is a substitute drug provided by the government under her current insurance. She has finally started to stabilize now.

Ok, so that wasn't so quick. But it helps to have that framework as I sort out my role, my experiences, my own struggles... Somehow I know my future will not be so defined by her walk anymore. I have no idea what that looks like, who I am without this desperate connection to her addiction. It's a pretty scary big open path before me right now...

History One

I come from a long line of alcoholics. I love my family. It may offend them to say that, but its time to speak the truth. My father and his mother were able acknowledge their addiction before they died. I am so glad they did; that they were able to stop the downward spiral. I can't say we healed from the damage, but at least they did not descend any further. It's much the same story in my husband's family.

I always knew Grace had her biological chemistry stacked against her. I worried and schemed and tried to protect every moment of every day. It would be more honest to say I CONTROLLED everything ~ or pretended I did. I've learned so much in my own recovery about how insidious that control can be to those around me as well as to myself. But those details will have to wait until a later post.

So when Grace started experimenting taking pills when she was 13 years old I freaked out. Talk about control... the more we tried to force and manipulate the more she rebelled. The tighter the screws, the bigger the fight. I still haven't sorted out which steps were wrong, which were good healthy boundaries. But I know this: the spirit behind most of my actions was unhealthy. I wanted things to be safe and nice and pretty for me more than for her.

Of course, as a mother I wanted her healthy and ok. But so much of my motivation was to save face, to feel good about myself. We all know how we cluck our tongues at the parents of those 'out of control' kids. Tsk, tsk we say to each other... They should have done better.... They should do such and so... 

Inside we are afraid it might be us someday. I was ashamed of being 'that mom'.

It hurts to say that. But one of the biggest blessings in confronting this demon is that there will be no more hiding. So I've said it out loud (kinda - at least wrote it out here). Now I need to say it Grace. Baby steps in honesty...

I'm Your Disease

One of the many handouts from Grace's recovery class, one of the few that made her cry:

I hate meetings. I hate Higher Power. I hate anyone who has a program. To all who come in contact with me, I wish you death and suffering.

Allow me to introduce myself: I am The Disease of Addiction.

Cunning, baffling and powerful. That's me. I have killed millions, and I am pleased. I love to catch you with the element of surprise. I love pretending I am your friend and lover. I have given you comfort, have I not? Wasn't I there when you were lonely? When you wanted to die, didn't you call me? I was there. I love to make you hurt.

I love to make you cry. Better yet, I love when I make you so numb you can neither hurt nor cry. You can't feel anything at all. This is true glory, I will give you instant gratification, and all I ask of you is long-term suffering. I've been there for you always. When things were going right in your life, you invited me. You said you didn't deserve these good things and I was the only one who would agree with you.

Together we were able to destroy all things good in your life. People don't take me seriously. They take strokes seriously, heart attacks, even diabetes are taken seriously, fools that people are. They don't know that without my help these things would not be possible.

I am such a hated disease. And yet, I do not come uninvited. You choose to have me. I hate all of you. Yet, so many have chosen me over reality and peace.

More than you hate me, I hate all of you who have a 12-step program. Your program, your higher power all weaken me and I can't function in the manner I am accustomed to.

Now I must lie here quietly. You don't see me, but I am growing bigger than ever. When you live, only may I exist. When you exist, only may I live. But I am here... and until we meet again, if we meet again... I wish you death and suffering.......

Anonymous

Beginning In The Middle

My daughter is a heroin addict. She shoots the poison into her veins. She chooses to put a needle in her arm and pull the trigger. It's been 26 days since she last took that plunge - so this documentation of my journey as her mother really does begin in the middle of this struggle - or maybe at the beginning of the end.

Please understand that my words here will only reflect my viewpoint; not hers or my husbands or my granddaughters. I expect the story may get a bit jumbled as I express my emotions and retell the roller coaster of events that have brought us to this place. I'm not sure what I hope to accomplish by writing this all down, but perhaps sharing the journey will bring peace. Or maybe the occasionally download will bring some sense of order to the storm.

But for today, I begin in the middle. My daughter that I'll call Grace is a beautiful 30 year old woman with a 9 year old daughter of her own that I'll call Melody. The women in our family run strong and deep. We struggle ~ we love ~ we fight ~ we win and loose. In other words, we are normal. But our addictions run with us. Some would say Grace never had a chance give our history.

There is so much more to tell of our story, but it will have to wait. I guess that's the point of a blog... a day to day telling of the journey.

Till tomorrow...