The Waiting Game

How long does it take for a mom to be approved to see her son in prison? I will let you know when it happens. I have been waiting weeks. Only Grandma Cake has been approved so far and I think she is waiting to go with Sam's dad, who is impatiently waiting for his approval as well.

Sam finally reestablished contact with me four weeks after he decided I was the cause of his problems and his biggest enemy for turning him in. I did not bring the incident up when he called. He has the rest of his prison sentence to understand he put himself in there. I hope it is enough time.

Our conversation largely revolved around prison tattoos. He said he doesn't think his grandma likes that he has gotten some. I told him she is a smart woman. He confessed the tats are out of boredom. I encouraged him to read, write, and prepare himself to rejoin society with more knowledge, a stronger vocabulary, and a clear sense of who he is.

It has been an interesting and heartfelt time for me. My writing has lagged. I kept trying to think of things to say that don't hit me so hard right now and I can't. I am not that person, I strive to stay authentic but it can be difficult. If I don't tell it like I feel it, why write anything at all?

I finally realized that when I say nothing, I have no way to impact. If I say something, even if it feels raw to me, there is a slight chance my words may resonate with a person or two.

Every day I look for the letter granting me permission to visit my son. I have literally considered driving the 2 1/2 hours just to stand outside and see where he lives. I cannot imagine what the hold-up is. Still, I am so blessed he is alive. Grateful is an understatement.

I am one of the lucky moms. Many would give their very life for another chance to see, hug, and talk to their child. The challenge for me is to live in peace while his life unfolds as it will.

I have zero illusions of control over him or his addiction. I have no idea if he will become passionate about life and work or if he will stick a needle in his arm and die. He told me he doesn't know what choice he will make either. I am not going to lie, sometimes it sucks the energy out of me.

Some people honor their children by attending their sports events, band concerts, academic excellence nights, and so on. I honor mine by blogging about heroin. I believe, from all that I have seen and all that I have heard, that people need to know the truth. It has proven to be an excellent filter in my own life as well.

Shortly after I launched this blog, my closest friend and confidant of more than a year bailed on me via text, because of the blog. I never saw the person again and don't suppose I ever will. It hurt me deeply but it also solidified that I am doing exactly what I am meant to be doing at this point in my life: writing about my journey through Sam's heroin addiction.

I hope to help at least one mom, dad, sister, brother, son, daughter, grandma, grandpa, aunt, uncle, niece, nephew, cousin, co-worker, friend, or partner of a heroin and/or opioid addict understand that they are not alone. The fight is real and it is most frequently hidden in shame and fought in private.

When you are standing in the middle of the battlefield during the most difficult and vulnerable times in your life, look around and see those who are actually standing beside you. Those are your people.

Admittedly, being Sam's mom is a buffer. It keeps my life very real and I refuse to get caught up in little bullshit. When I get upset about stupid things, I quickly realize how unimportant almost everything is (usually). When I get upset about big things, I am honest, direct, and I try to be kind. The rest of my life can be painful, but only to a point. If my children are okay, I am too.

Sam recently missed the passing of Gene, our handsome little homeboy pug. The day he was sentenced, I remember thinking "Sam won't ever see Gene again." It was a random thought, likely symbolic of all the other important events he will miss.

I think about him during these times but I have gotten more used to his physical absence. I am a realist. I am not going to give up joy and attention to the rest of family and my life by dwelling on Sam's situation. It doesn't matter how bad I feel, I cannot change anything for him. It is merely energy wasted, similar to anger, resentment, and fear.

Heroin has changed my life in every way, this is simply part of the game. I would much rather know my kid is alive and safe than sit across the table from him. Period.

I am hopeful Sam will walk back into society one day sober, motivated, and ready to make a difference in the world.

Always in gratitude. Where there is Life, there is Hope. #nomoreshame