The Final Straw

May 21, 2018, 5:51 AM

Sam was asked to leave his sober living house yesterday. He was hoping he could just slither back in and no one would notice. I knew this would likely not happen but I let it play out, he is an adult. It is so hard to sit and watch all the bullshit of heroin addiction unravel right before my eyes.

He texted from a hotel room last night. Said he would get back to us later. In response, I sent him a letter. It was the hardest letter I have ever had to write and I intend to stick by it. I cannot do this like I have been anymore. I have one last hurrah in me. My last offering. I am sharing it here as part of the story.

May 20, 2018

Dear Sam,

First and foremost, you are my son and my own firstborn. I love you more than you will know until the day you have your first child. There is nothing more magical. And scary. And shocking. No one thinks about the day they can no longer protect their child from the world. Or even protect the child from his or her own self.

Your family has watched you plummet into your addiction. You have frequently forgotten each and every one of us. You don’t know how much we have cried and regretted and feared for you. I have had thoughts of your funeral many times. Never your siblings, just you. You are the one who continues to linger so close to death.

Just one year after you almost died from a heroin overdose, you spent 5 days in the hospital and could have died or lost your arm from injecting a bogus substance into your arm. Again, you have escaped the wrath of your addiction. The problem is, you can’t keep escaping. We all know this. Either you quit or you die. I hope that in your lifetime, you never know the depths of the pain we feel watching your spiral into hell.

Your dad and I, with the help of some generous family members, have put you through 5 treatments. Two of them at one of the best facilities in the US, likely the world. We have each spent hundreds of hours driving you to and from outpatient treatment. Your siblings have lost time with us and time with you. They are hurting greatly as well.

None of this is to shame you Sam. You are a prisoner of your addiction. The problem is, the key to get out dangles in front of your face. You have everything it takes to find an amazing life. The road is long, we are here for you, but you know how to do this. Look around you at your friends, they are doing it. Look at the difference between your life and theirs. Does theirs look even just a tiny bit better? You could have that life too. The thing they have that you don’t: willingness.

Regarding where the hell you will land now that you have been asked to leave your house. I will let stay here short term. This will be the last time I offer you this and I say this for two reasons:

1. We have made it too easy for you. Clearly it’s not working. After this, I am not providing you with a warm cozy place to kill yourself any longer.

2. You are my son. You said you were scared about your infection and you said you want to be sober. If you are serious, I want to give you a start.

Here is what I can offer:

You can stay at my house for 30 days. During that time:

1. I expect you to apply for work, looking like you actually want a job. Button down shirt, clean, the standard measure of how we find work in our society. I also expect you to get a job immediately because I know there are plenty out there.

2. A meeting a day. Lots of scheduling goes into this, I know, but if you want to live here for 30, you will figure it out.

3. Up and out of bed, no sleeping in all day. You will be asked to help with a lot of things I have been meaning to get done.

4. Clean up after yourself. Your maid doesn’t live here.

5. You cannot be here when I am not. I have several nights I will not be home during the thirty days and many hours during the day. You will need to find somewhere to stay during that time. Perhaps your dad is willing to help but it will be his decision and I completely understand if he does not agree.

Your family will not be held hostage by your addiction any longer. We love you too much. You need to make a choice what your life will look like. No other person can choose that for you, please don’t let heroin choose it for you either.

I love you enough to let you go now. I will give you 30 days in my home to land on your feet and make living arrangements. By then, you will have had to find a place to live and money to do it with. If you want it bad enough, you can make it happen. Most working adults have put at least a few 60-80 hour work weeks in their life time, you can too.

I think you have much to offer the world my son but you need to do it like the rest of us do. Hard work and commitment.

Love you Sam, Mom

That is it. The true defining moment of “setting my family free”. We are not riding the heroin ship to the bottom any longer. I will never give up but I won’t be controlled by it. I am out of money, out of energy, and the rest of my life needs some attention too. I have to trust that Sam, if he chooses, has the capacity to rise above. It is up to him.

Always, the love and support has held me up which in turns helps to hold the rest of my family up too.

Where there is life, there is hope. Love you. #nomoreshame #iwillleavethelighton