Survivor's Guilt With No Guarantees

Today is 179 days since Sam's heroin overdose. Nearly six months. It breaks my heart to think of all the people that HAVE died of opioid overdose since that day. According to the National Institute on Drug Abuse (NIDA) 90 Americans die every day of opioid overdose. In 2016, more that 221 people in Colorado alone. The number has been steadily rising since the early 2000's.

Do you know what freaks me out the most though? Many (if not most) of those who died were sober before they overdosed. The most vulnerable time for a heroin (opioid) addict to overdose is when they relapse after a time of sobriety. They often go directly back to the same amount they were using prior to getting sober and it is too much. It doesn't seem to be traumatic, they simply fall asleep, forget to breathe, and die.

Is there comfort in that? I don't know. I actually had that fleeting thought not too long ago "at least it seems to be a peaceful way to die". I've said it many times: Being the mom of a heroin addict who almost died of an overdose has changed everything about me, including the way that I think. A new abnormal normal.

I wonder if there is such thing as survivor's guilt for moms of addicts who overdose and don't die? I am so thankful Sam survived and yet I don't know why he did. When I read about the many who don't survive, it hurts me to the core. I don't even know how to process it. Some might say "it wasn't Sam's time to die" or "God isn't done with him down here yet". I disagree. Heroin is a powerful drug and too many people are dying. Period. Who lives or dies after overdosing simply depends on three things: if they are found, if they are helped, and if there is time. It is often too late.

I could never in good conscious believe that another mom's child was "meant" to die from a heroin overdose but mine was "meant" to survive. I believe God was with Sam that night but luck saved him. He was found in time by someone who helped him. It is heartbreaking to read the words written by parents who have lost the war on their child's heroin addiction. I am among the ranks of us who have lost many battles but are still in the war. Life goes on, one day at a time.

Sam has been back in Colorado for six weeks now. He just got a job and has a girlfriend too. Obviously, I can't say much about her but I do know that new relationships are frowned upon in early recovery. They say it takes focus away from sobriety. I agree but it obviously doesn't matter what I think. If my thoughts mattered, my son would not be a heroin addict in the first place. Anyway, she seems like a decent young lady, she reminds me of an Amazon Goddess. I don't even know if there is such a thing as an Amazon Goddess. Apparently they went to her homecoming, I am still waiting on pictures. It is likely the only optional high school function my son ever attended and I would like lasting proof. Her dad seems like a decent man too. He has that "Do not mess with my daughter" look about him. Likely a blessing in disguise.

Sam was planning to live with me when he returned home from treatment in Minnesota but is living at his dad's instead. It turns out I am not ready to have him alone in my home when I am gone. This is a logistic we hadn't thought of initially but I am not willing to compromise. Too much history. He got tired of being carted to his dads every time I left my house and decided he will stay there instead, at least for now. His dad works from home so it makes sense for him to be there. As always, I make plans and then life happens. The two never seem to line up.

I feel like watching an addict recover is a bit like watching grass grow. I am too impatient and want things to move a little quicker. I want a date stamp. A date that I will know that Sam will be okay. It's not going to happen. He is exactly where he needs to be right now. Living one day at a time. It is my own impatience that I struggle with. I don't get a guarantee, life doesn't work that way. Although I have concerns, I see areas of growth in Sam that make me hold onto hope a little tighter.

He is talking more about things that make him uncomfortable instead of pretending that everything is fine. He has become more vulnerable too. As the mom of an addict, it's hard to think of the inevitable heartbreaks I know are coming in his life without significant apprehension. If an addict was looking for an excuse to relapse, growing up, in and of itself, would offer many of them. For now, however, Sam chooses sobriety.

I continue to be so grateful for each day that my son walks this earth. I have watched his struggle and I have been a part of this journey with him for nearly three years now. The highs have been (naively) amazing, the lows have been shocking and painful. I have experienced every emotion from peace and serenity and hope to anger and rage and fear. I am blessed and humbled and honored to be Sam's mom.

Where there is life, there is hope. Thank you for your continued words of support and prayers. Life is short, hug your loved ones and hold them tight. #nomoreshame