Addiction Recovery Starts Here.

Dear Herb,

     Hi!  I hope this summertime finds you well and happy.  I can only imagine how very busy you are–church, parenting, family, friends, Georgia bulldogs, baseball, and last, but by no means least, saving lives.  Thank you for dedicating your own life to service; thank you for helping the many people whose lives are touched, in one way or another, by the tragedy of addiction.  

     I have been thinking about this road we have traveled.  It is so important to me, to my present life, to my past, to my future, to my hopes and dreams.  This journey will go with me throughout eternity.  I am most certain that you will be there also.  Something that has been such a large part of my life deserves attention in many ways.  I took a class one time in journaling.  I wasn’t particularly good at it, but guess what!  I am going to write part of my story, and guess who gets to read it!  YOU!  I have given this job to myself.  Why?  Because of you, Herb.  Because of my son.  Because of my daughter and all family members of addicts, who have walked upon this terrifying path.  I may look at this journey a little differently than most.  Perhaps I have a moral and religious responsibility to share the story,  You see, Herb, I am a Mother.  I know your Mom is in heaven.  Until you meet her again, face to face, clear-eyed and open-hearted, please hear my story.  Please know how much your Mother’s love and pride transcend the distance between heaven and earth, between life and death.  Please know she is with you.

     My child is an addict.  I love him.  I was the earthly vessel through which God placed him on this earth.  I remember the first moment my eyes gazed upon him.  His eyes were beautiful.  His little chubby face made him look like a little cherub who came straight from heaven.  He landed in my arms.  God placed him in my care.  His breathing brought color to his face.  His little hand grasped mine.  The bond was for all time.  I promised God that I would give my all to His creation and to try, with all my might, to bring glory to Him in how I raised this precious gift from heaven.  And so it began.

     Precious time, loving moments, memories created that will always touch my heart.  Honors.  Excellence.  Participation.  Pride.  Hope. Scholarships.  Mission fields.  The honor of receiving an appointment to a military academy.  Love beyond measure.  

     And then, in a heartbeat, life changed.  An injury occurred.  It was severe, requiring substantial medical care.  And a physician who was close to me and close to him became the enabler and provider of all evil goods (bads!).  It happened in less than three weeks.  Life forever changed.  Joy was over-taken by heartbreak.  Fear pushed hope right out the window.  Exhaustion and searching replaced all peace and happiness that once resided in my presence.  Four letter words became commonplace in my vocabulary.  Pain.  Pill.  Drug.  Shot.  Loss.  Lost.  Fear.  Jail.  Etc. 

     Those were all part of this Mother’s road.  I failed with every attempt to save my son.  The only success I had was in keeping him breathing, and that required almost all of my time and energy.  I remembered that promise that I made to God.  And I kept it.  

     My son, physically, survived.  The eyes were not bright, the smile was no longer, and the little hand that held onto me was now pushing me away.  The sweet giggles were overcome with lies, anger, attitude, etc.  And the chubbiness–Well, in trying to withdraw, he lost approximately 120 pounds.  You can not imagine the shell that remained.  His father refused to accept the problem.  He also refused to hold himself accountable for his part, medically, in the whole situation.  My daughter, her brother’s precious little sister, was heartbroken.  We, as a family, went through what so many families do–the loss, sadness, financial ruin, embarrassment, futility, violence, fear, loss of relationships, disappearance of trust, etc.  But I could not and did not quit.  “For I know the plans I have for you” kept resonating through my being.  “Lo, I am with you always” kept coming to my mind.  

     Year after year, more injuries, more medical care, more poor choices–my son lost his life on a daily basis, and I, his Mother, could not stop the rampage.  He wanted so much to quit, but contrary to what most people believe, it was not possible.  At least it was not possible on my time schedule anyway.  Losing one’s way incorporates the loss of most abilities and the loss of all possible opportunities to blend rational decisions into positive  behavior outcomes.  Addiction, in a Mother’s eyes, means death.  I remember the day I resuscitated him.  I will never be the same.  I guess that now is a good time to point out that I have zero expertise in anything medical.  I taught kindergarten and was excellent with bandaids for “boo boos”.  I was a bit of a fainter, although I usually made it through the moments where I was very much needed.  Later, it would “hit” me.  Now, I am still a zero in relation to medicine, but I am a warrior, for I fought for my son’s life like you can not imagine.  When he could not fight for himself, there I was, breathing.  I might add that I was not always popular.  I honored my Lord and Savior.  I gave my all.  So many mothers do this, yet no one can quite understand the tough journey that they take.  I know.  I understand the pain and the loneliness.  Those mothers need hugs, comfort, understanding, rest, peace, etc.  Many onlookers view the addict’s family as dysfunctional and failures of a sort.  Our family was not at all that in the beginning.  We certainly became the epitome of that, however, as the journey continued.  My son’s addiction.  My daughter’s broken heart.  My failed marriage.  My husband’s neglect of doing anything right for the family.  I could not stop this rapidly moving  train that was overtaking our lives.  

     And then, guess what!  Herb came into our lives.  How?  That is a question that if I answered, you would not believe me.  Let me just say that I have been so blessed, in many ways, one of which is that I witnessed a real, honest to goodness, unexplainable, unexpected miracle.  It came from God Himself, straight from heaven.  What did you do, Herb?  Well, to begin with, you helped me speak.  You gave this Mother the opportunity to open her exhausted mouth and ask for help.  You picked me up and dusted me off so to speak.    You gave me a purpose rather than the flatline of defeat.  You listened, you directed, you offered your help, in a loving and nonjudgmental way.  You pointed me forward and kept me from my continual backward fall. You helped me in ways that you will never know.  You answered your phone.  You returned calls.  You checked in on me, just to see if I was okay.  You helped me feel not so alone.  You passed out encouragement and hope.  You overtook the blame and abuse that had been laid upon my lap.  You helped me understand that this was not my fault.  You helped me accept what had happened.  In doing that, I quit wasting my energy on what was.  I could now focus on possibilities ahead.  You facilitated our tomorrows, replacing darkness with light.  With your help, my son became clean.  March 6, 2017.  His smile returned, and his beautiful blue eyes are clear now.  His words of gratitude touch my heart.  His ability to see beauty in the world and to express his appreciation for what he has been given means so much.  To see him try so hard, and to succeed, in turning this tragedy into a blessing means more than words can say.  To hear him pray and to know that he walks with God directing his steps once again……Oh my goodness, I feel so blessed.  Thank you.  

     You, God, and my Son.  The three of you were a trinity of hope, of survival of overcoming tremendous loss.  You taught me to breathe,  to rest, to begin to heal.  Herb, you began the recovery process for not only my son , but for me, for my daughter, and for all others whose lives touched ours.  Recovery is a process that includes not just the addict, but each and every person who loves him/her.