The Darkness of Honesty

Apr 29, 2017, 11:55 AM

It has now been just over four weeks since Sam purposely overdosed on heroin. Although I want to say things are good, I would be lying if I did. I keep thinking it will get easier. I keep thinking it will get better.

I spoke (sobbed) to my friend who also has a son who is a (recovering) heroin addict. Her son used heroin for a longer period of time than Sam did but he did not shoot up and has never overdosed. I told her that I am afraid to actually say the truth about Sam's prognosis. I don't know why I am afraid, I guess maybe I just don't want to give the words or thoughts power. There I go again, thinking I have one shred of control over my son's addiction. My friend said that if I am to be honest, I should be really honest. She said why not just jump completely into the shit since I am so far in anyway? Why not just say what I know? Why hold back? It isn't going to change the outcome.

The truth is that Sam's chances of recovery are uncomfortably low. Those of us who understand heroin addiction and who also know Sam all know this. Together we stand and pray for a miracle for him. We know that he needs it. I guess one reason it feels ugly to acknowledge the truth it is because it may appear as though I am giving up on him. I will never ever give up on him, not for a minute, but I have to stay honest.

The minute I step away from writing about this shit show as it really is, I do myself and possibly another parent who is on this path a disservice. Then it becomes more about what I think it should sound like than what it really is. It is not my job to make it sound a certain way. I can only write about my own experience as that is all I have. Too many parents have walked this journey alone, in shame. I will not do that but I also will not sugarcoat the travesty of this heroin epidemic.

Everyone I talk to asks me how Sam is doing and I honestly tell them that he is alive and beyond that, I really don't know. When he calls, he sounds so incredibly good and normal and I want to feel happy about it but then I remember that he always sounds this way when he calls from rehab. It really makes me angry. How the hell can he sound so alive and be so close to death at the same time?

I will never again feel the hope and confidence I once felt at the beginning of this journey through his addiction. Every step of the way gets darker and more intense. While I admit I have no control over Sam's addiction and recovery, I will continue to try to influence him to listen to and take advice of people who know more than him. He is going to call today. My stomach is in knots, I don't think I want to hear what he is going to say. I hope I am wrong.

Sam's dad and I are strongly urging him to listen to what his treatment counselors are telling him. They feel his chances of recovery are best if he remains under supervision in a half way house in Minneapolis for at least a period of time after treatment. Up to this point, he has been adamant that he wants to come straight back to Denver. I hope he has changed his mind. I have reminded him if it weren't for a good Samaritan we wouldn't be having this conversation in the first place and that his situation is dire and that we are trying to save his life. I think it must be partly because he is only 17 and partly because he is an addict that he just doesn't really seem to grasp what reality looks like for him at this point. I will find out today where his head is truly at and what lengths he is willing to go to for sobriety and life.

Today I will hold onto faith and hope but keep my feet firmly rooted in reality. I love my son with all my heart and I will never give up on him. Where there is life, there is hope. Thank you for reading. Love you. #nomoreshame