One Year Ago...

This picture was taken of Sam one year ago. He had been kicked out of his sober house in Colorado Springs and was back at my house. I remember when I first saw him. He stepped out of his dad's car and I was mortified. I could not hug him. In fact, I could not even touch him until he showered and threw away the clothes he was wearing. It is a chilling reminder of what heroin can do in such a short amount of time.

This was also shortly before he confessed to me, I turned him in, and he was incarcerated. This has been quite a difficult year for me, as his mom. I miss him and being able to text him whenever I want. I miss his humor and his hugs. I think the thing I miss the most, however, is our relationship up until this time last year.

In spite of his drug use, overdose, lying, cheating, and manipulating, we were very close. (Or maybe it was my imagination?) Many moms will know exactly what I am saying. I know our relationship will never again be the same and it's hard for me to imagine what it will become in these next days, months, and years.

After a full year, pictures like this are a good reminder to me. They remind me what I was faced with at that time. A kid (young man) who looked, and acted, like he was going to die.

Sam had agreed to a long list of actions required to come back home and live with me after he relapsed and got kicked out of his sober home. He sounded desperate. Needless to say, he didn't actually read, therefore adhere to, the list and didn't last long in my home.

I remember sobbing as I called the police to turn him in when I finally had the courage to do so. I can also distinctly recall feeling the huge metaphorical weight of doing the right thing being lifted, then quickly replaced, by the much heavier burden of reality. Sam now had a warrant out for his arrest. This was life changing for all of us. Once again, heroin had my whole family by the balls. Including those of us who don't even have balls.

After I made that call, I remember waiting in (mostly) hidden panic for nearly two weeks. I was so hopeful they would catch up with him before he was found dead somewhere. I had the gut feeling that I was running out of time. I will never know if I was right. He was arrested in time. I believe it was grace.

Deciding to blog about Sam and heroin has been life changing for me. Several months ago, I woke up one day and realized I am not only not getting younger, I am also rapidly getting older. I am now in my fifty-fifth year. I realized then that if I was ever going to jump out of my comfort zone, when? If I felt like there is such a tremendous need for REAL conversation regarding the opioid/heroin epidemic, why was I not willing to do more?

Fear of failure? Yes. Fear of creating a blog people will not want to read? Yes. Fear of being called a crappy writer, or even worse, a horrible mom for blogging about my own son's heroin addiction? Yes. (Oh that's right, that one has already happened so I guess it's already out of the way!)

I spent yesterday largely thinking about Sam, mourning. This picture brought me back to that horrific period of time last year that once again, changed his trajectory for the worse. Thankfully, I took the time to watch the Netflix special by Brene' Brown. It brought me back to my purpose (fantastic article on why you MUST watch, by Danielle Brooker, 4/29/19 in Forbes). She talks about courage, fear, and being willing to be truly vulnerable in life, because without vulnerability we cannot have joy. Or purpose.

I have always wanted to write. I have never wanted to write about heroin. Life has a funny way of working its way out. I have met people I never thought I would have the privilege to meet due to Sam's addiction and also the decision to blog. I also have lost people who I never expected to walk away from me.

I have been called courageous, inspiring, strong, honest, and insightful in my efforts to write and create a blog. I have also been called obsessive, manic-depressive, and told that I am potentially neglecting my other children in the time and energy it is taking.

I am going to choose to believe the former. I have a purpose. I want to reach people out there who really need to understand they are not alone. I want to tell the stories of others affected by heroin. And I want Narcan in high schools in Colorado.

Watching a heroin addict you love completely spiral out of control time and time again is excruciating. We are not alone, most of us are just hiding in shame.

Where there is life, there is hope. #nomoreshame