Hope Brings Fear

In the five weeks since Sam's heroin overdose, everything has changed and yet nothing has changed. Everything in life continues to move forward except the part about being Sam's mom. That part seems to be suspended in time. No resolution, no hint of what the future brings. If I am completely honest though, Sam has not really been an active part of the family for the past 2 1/2 years. The rules and traditions I once held dear, as they pertain to Sam, went out the window when I realized the extent of his addiction

Every since he began his journey through recovery, I have willingly given up the regular mom/son gig to support his sobriety. All holidays have been optional, curfew is non existent. All focus and intention has been on keeping him sober and alive. If he needed to be with sober friends on holidays it was fine with me, I understood. Holidays weren't always easy for me either.

If he wanted to stay with sober friends for days on end, I was completely cool with that. In the beginning, I cared a lot about school. Now, regarding Sam, I only care about life. I know that isn't normal but overdosing on heroin in an attempt to die at the age of 17 is not normal either. Who the hell needs normal? Still, aspects of his absence really sting.

Sam's two younger sibs and I moved into our new home this week. It wasn't just a formality for me, it was a dream come true. For three years I lived in a garden (dungeon) level apartment. I watched other peoples dogs pee in the bush right outside my window. My own dog barked at peoples' legs as they walked by. It is bitter sweet though. It sucks that Sam is not a part of the experience and it sucks that he doesn't even really care. It super sucks that he wasn't there to help us move. (I guess he told he told his dad that he was pretty glad about that). That's my son. Smart ass.

Sam has decided to stay in Minneapolis at a Halfway treatment house for a while. I was really happy to hear this when he called me this week. He said he really doesn't want to but he realizes it's for the best right now. I noticed that my heart started to flutter a bit as he was talking. Soon, I started to float up to my pink cloud that I keep available to me for times like this. I keep it hovering right above me and the minute something positive happens in Sam's recovery I like to jump right up there. Only to fall right through and get slammed to the earth. I should know better, I have flown a hangglider into the clouds. If they were solid, I'd be dead. So, I just told him I was proud of him for making the harder choice and listening to people who know more than he does and I left it at that. Then, as my ride through Sam's addiction has taught me to do, I go to the dark side in my mind.

I realize that while this plan is what the experts say is best for Sam, it could mean I may never see him again. I can't go back up to Minnesota anytime soon. I have a job, other kids, and responsibilities. If I could be sure he would stay the course, I'd be more settled. So far, every stint of sobriety he has ever had has been like a secret ticking time bomb. No one has ever seen it coming when it goes off and he explodes back into his addiction.

Sam is known to disappear. Poof. Houdini. That is what he does, it is his established pattern. He never says anything, you never know he is struggling, he just leaves. If he bolts in Minneapolis, his dad and I are hours away. We don't know the city like we know Denver. Logistics are against us. Here, we handed out Sam's picture to cops all over Denver the night we searched for him. If he is meandering the streets in Minneapolis, we will be pleading with cops (over the phone) to pick out our addict among the other addicts on the street and save him.

Street addicts are not a cops priority. Enter a rabid mom thrusting a picture of her young addict son into their faces, however, it suddenly becomes more of a priority. Physical presence can greatly help your odds in finding your kid. But, since I can't be there, I guess that right thing to do is just recognize that Sam actually left me long ago and this opportunity may be my last chance to get him back.

In my last CPR training, the instructor said to remember that when we are performing CPR on someone, the victim is already dead. We are simply trying to keep their blood (oxygen) circulating until medical help arrives to try to bring them back to life. It struck me as a profound way to think of it because I had never heard CPR explained that way. I guess that is how it is with us. Sam is already gone. He left me long ago when drugs took over. I have been just trying to keep his oxygen circulating until real help arrives. I hope to God this current treatment is real help.

God draws straight in crooked lines. I hate crooked lines. I want straight lines. I want to know what the hell my future holds and yet I can't stand to know what my future holds. I just want my son back. Other people I am connected to also have young loved ones struggling. They say addiction is a family disease not to elevate it but rather to include it.

Every disease is a family disease, particularly when the the sick one is a child. We love our kids, we cherish our kids, and we fight like hell for our kids. I hold you all in my prayers.

Today I sadly recognize that in reality, my beautiful son left me long ago. It is my greatest hope that he comes back. I know our life will always be a freak show. I love our freak show. He can be sober in our freak show. It would be an even better freak show.

Where there is life, there is hope. Thank you for reading. Love you.#nomoreshame