Journeys

I am sorry to see Lou go. I am sorry to see Madison go. I am sorry that Alex relapsed, along with a few others. I am sorry Kel lost her son.

This whole effing heroin addiction thing is a journey for a parent. I am not here to talk about the addict at all, never have been.

This hard ass started out MY journey clueless. Stayed that way for a good long time. Didn't have A CLUE. None. Nada. Zippo.

thought the spoons disappearing was because I also had an 8 year old daughter who liked to dig in the yard LOL.

Thought the screens always being damaged was because of the cats.

Thought that HOPE was something I would always have.

Each of us walk our journeys in different cities, different communities, differing circumstances.

Some of us have chosen to direct our energies to the raising of the addict's children which, while extremely time consuming and difficult, is, I think, easier in that the grandchildren fill the void in our hearts left by the addict child. It's also much harder to obsess about ANYTHING in the world when you are surrounded by busy toddlers, or whining pre-teens. They do tend to fill your days with constant need for attention and direction.

I have been asked privately to explain something. So, I will try. My journey is pretty much over as far as my daughter is concerned. I deal with her in a civil manner. We see each other.

What I did was realize that my daughter's ESSENCE, her individuality that I had strived so hard to give her, the values that I had instilled in her as a child, the morals that I had raised her to believe in, were DEAD.

So I grieved. I went to grief counseling. I cried and cried for my little darling baby who was dead. I went through all the stages of grief, starting with disbelief, moving to anger, then negotiation with God, etc.

Finally, after a year, to me, my daughter was dead. I know this sounds strange. She still walks, and talks, and breathes.

but my heart is at peace because my grief is about 4 years post incident. I would say post death but since she really isnt dead yet, it would be weird.

She and her addiction were consuming me. Eating up my emotions like a termite feeding on an abandoned house.

I have four other children and now four grandchildren who needed/need me. I couldn't let myself be consumed by her addiction, even if SHE already was consumed by her addiction.

So, I stopped the consumption ON MY END. She has to stop the consumption ON HER END. But that is not my problem, it is hers.

My daughter is dead. I am sad, but okay. Her body lives on.

That's how I coped. I talk to the distant relative that seems to inhabit her body, but I no longer get the instant diarrhea when she calls. I no longer toss and turn all night with wondering is she dead or alive. I no longer dread phone calls. My panic attacks have almost disappeared.

My relationships with the other children are healthier. I smile more. I laugh. I go places and do things. My life is no longer controlled by someone else's addiction. I don't even blog that much.

My daughter's choice to become a heroin addict had nothing at all to do with me. It was ultimately, whether you are in the choice or disease camp, her issue. Just as a diabetic who won't take insulin can not be tied down and forced to do so, or just as a bi-polar individual cannot be forced to take their meds, it is THEIR issue.

It just no longer controls, or even seriously impacts my life.

I took control of my life back from the addiction of my daughter by grieving for the child I raised.

And that's just the way it is.

Addiction: Disease or Choice

The debate isn't just among those of us who have children/family members. Apparently the debate rages in the medical community as well. I found this a thought provoking and interesting article. Just scroll down past the stupid ads....(I hate ads) to the meat of the article. I won't violate anyone's copyrights, so just click on this link Drug Addiction Choice or Disease

S.E.P.'s and how to achieve them

Short excerpt from Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams


“Shhh,” said Ford. He screwed his eyes up in concentration.
“Shhh,” Said Ford again. He covered one eye and looked with the other.
Ford was beginning to behave rather strangely, or rather not actually beginning to behave strangely but behave in a way that was strangely different from the other strange ways in which he more regularly behaved. What he was doing was this. Regardless of the bemused stares it was provoking from his fellow members of the crowed gathered round the pitch, he was waving his hands in sharp movements across his face, ducking down behind some people, leaping up behind others, then standing still and blinking a lot. After a moment or two of this he started to walk forward slowly and stealthily, wearing a puzzled frown of concentration, like a leopard that is not sure whether it's just seen a half empty tin of cat food half a mile away on across a hot and dusty plain.....

The sun continued to shine and Ford continued to jump up and down shaking his head and blinking.
“Something's on your mind isn't it?” said Arthur.
“I think,” said Ford in a tone of voice that Arthur by now recognized as one that presaged something utterly unintelligible, “that there's an S. E. P. over there.”

“A what?”
“An S.E.P.”
“An S...”
“.....E.P.”
“And what is that?”
Somebody Else's Problem,” said Ford.
…..

“An S.E.P., “ he said, “is something that we can't see, or don't see, or our brain doesn't let us see, because we think that it's somebody else's problem. That's what S.E.P. Means. Somebody Else's Problem. The brain just edits it out; it's like a blind spot. If you look at it directly you won't see it unless you know precisely what it is. Your only hope is to catch it by surprise out of the corner of your eye.

End of excerpt, beginning of blog.

I think, that by now, we have all come to the point of “Just exactly WHAT is this detachment thingy, and how the HELL do we do it?

Some of you have conquered it. Some of you never will. As in all the blogs, we can only share what works for us, may not work for you.

For me, and believe me when I tell you that upon hearing me utter the following statement, the earth will immediately develop an eccentricity in it's orbit caused by the collective dead bodies of uncountable philosopher's spinning in their graves...

Douglas Adams may just have been the most profound philosopher of them all. Although an Athiest, which I am not, he didn't, in his books, deny God.

Rather, he quirkily and engagingly wrote about the absurdity of life. How not much of it is ever going to make sense. That totally inexplicable things are going to happen, over and over and over and over.
Another philosopher I have studied is Viktor Frankl. He was a survivor of the Nazi death camps. To summarize his basic philosophy, “you cannot control what happens to you in life, but you CAN control your reaction to the event.”

So, back to detachment.

The addiction of your child. needs to become an S.E.P.

It already is actually. You just don't realize it yet.

You have finally managed to catch it out of the corner of your eye, and now you know that it is there, so it is no longer invisible.

In the book, they were actually talking about a spaceship which had landed, unexpectedly, on the Lord's Cricket Ground in London. Thousands of people were walking around it, avoiding it, but not even noticing it was there because it was an S.E.P.

Since you know your child's addiction, you notice everything about it. You notice their look, their eyes, their demeanor, their habits, their actions, their movements, their money, their sleep patterns.

If they live with you, it's unavoidable. They cannot be an S.E.P., not yet.

But, after they leave. After they are on their own, they CAN and SHOULD be relegated to the realm of S.E.P.'s.

Because it is NOT your problem. It is THEIR problem.

I think it is possible to send a known issue back to S.E.P. Status.

Of course, we had to find out they were addicts. Then, we all had to try and fix them. It didn't work. Won't work. Some of them happened to fix themselves long about the time that we tried to fix them and it LOOKS like the parent succeeded in saving their child. Wrong. The child succeeded in saving themselves, the timing was just Hinky.

After you have passed those two stages, finding out, and trying to fix them, you need to allow the situation to become an S.E.P.

“I only know as much about myself as my mind can work out under its current condition, and right now, its current condition is not good.” Zaphod Beeblebrox, President of the Galaxy.

what it's like 11 years later

Well, sort of an update?

My addict daughter. Is now on methadone, has been since she was 4 months pregnant with the baby who will be 3 in February.

She lives in a dumpy trailer, on HUD. She gets reimbursed by our county for her mileage to and from the MMT center (45 miles each way) seven days a week.

She doesn't need welfare as the mileage reimbursement is sufficient to pay her bills. It is about 6-800 per month. She supplements this by cleaning houses and tutoring students in math.

The baby is doing well developmentally, totally normal. (she was born addicted). She is very small, imagine a 3 year old who JUST broke the 20# milestone.

My daughter's decisions are still faulty. She still makes really weird, disconnected and bad decisions. Like, she ran off the road using a friends car, ran up into someone's yard, took out a number of trees, and left the scene of the accident.

Junkie thinking.

Her ex-boyfriend (baby's father) who is still using was still living with her, stealing from her and using drugs in the home. She called in a whatever they call it when someone is a danger to themselves or others, and he was arrested on outstanding warrants. (he was living with his sister, another junkie at the time). She takes the baby to visit him in jail.

Junkie thinking.

She goes all week without contacting her children at all, and then texts me to see how to cook broccoli in the microwave. She is 30 years old.

Junkie brain. Full of great big old swiss cheese holes.

She has called me in the middle of a counseling appt for the girls to ask how to fry pork chops and I have to lead her through it LITERALLY step by step. The counselor just sits and looks at me with total and complete disgust on her face.

She has gone through about $5,000 that she has saved up off and on during the past 3 years. She still has no car, although she has had the money saved TWICE, and says....that the ex stole it, or that she loaned it to him a couple of hundred at a time...till it was gone.

She still takes no responsibility for her actions. It is always still SOMEONE else's fault.

It's my fault the baby is behind on her shots, or doesn't get to the dr because I won't come get her and give her a ride.

It's WELFARE's fault if her reimbursment check doesn't come, not HER fault because she didn't turn in the paperwork or did it wrong.

It's MY fault that she has no relationship with her children, not hers. It's MY fault because I tricked her. Has nothing to do with the fact that she goes weeks without a phone call, or text to them. It's MY fault that she doesn't get to see them when she and the baby are busy puking their guts out with the flu and I won't let them go.

It's MY fault when the baby runs out of diapers and I won't drive the 10 miles to loan her money and take her to the store to get diapers. (potty train the baby?)

The girls are okay. They have their ups and downs. Lately, since I have allowed weekly visitations unsupervised for 4 hours, alot of downs.

She is almost always late getting them, if she shows up at all.She is ALWAYS late bringing them back or I have to go get them.

Last week, after having them from 12:30 till 5, she took them to a local playground at 4:30 and so they were angry at ME when I picked them up at 5 since they didn't get much time to play.

That is pure and total manipulation. She could have taken them right after lunch, at 1:30 and had three hours to play. But she CHOSE to take them right before I would get there, then texted me to say "Pick them up at playground".

That pisses me off.

It angers me when they sit and wait for the 11 am hour to come around because Mommy will be picking them up, and then they wait, and wait, and wait...and text and text and text and then Mommy shows up at 1 or 1:30. It hurts me to see the pain they go through and I cannot stop it.

Still, they must learn that THIS is what their mother is now.

The oldest one went through a hellish period two weeks ago. Her father, recently released from prison to take custody of his THREE other children when their mother was raped and beat half to death IN FRONT OF THEM (they are 2, 3 and 5) over a bad drug deal...anyway, he came up and visited HIS parents who live four houses down from us.

HIS parents have custody of the girls cousin, the son of their father's sister, who is also a heroin addict.

They were playing with their cousin who said "uncle J**** was up visiting last week.

The oldest grands little face just fell. The littlest one didn't make the connection, her dad went to prison when she was 2 months old. But the oldest one? She knew that her father was only four houses away and didn't even bother to pick up the phone.

and yes, they have contact with the other grandparents.

And all I could do was hold her and tell her that YOU CANNOT COUNT ON A HEROIN ADDICT FOR ANYTHING AT ALL, EVER.

I cannot make it better for them. I cannot stop the pain for them. I can only try to mitigate the hurt.

And, it's very hard.

I hate them both for what they have done to two very wonderful children. I hate them for the disappointments that they give to their own flesh and blood. I hate them for two babies born addicted to heroin.

Oh, and we all had, and thankfully survived H1N1 although I am still (one month later) recovering from the resulting pneumonia.

Blessings.

She was over today

Out of the blue. I had just finished my day off, cleaning LOL. As is usual. I had set down at the table for a good read. The two little kids were playing down in the playroom, the nine year old sitting quietly strumming on her sister's guitar.

The car pulled up in front. Her friend's car.

She and the baby, who is two today come in.

She sat at the table. Nodding.

The nine year old looks over at me.

I shrug.

She shrugs.

The phone rings. It's a friend of the nine year old. They have made a play date. DH takes her to the friends house.

The baby runs around playing with her sister and cousin. They go upstairs to play in the bedroom.

My daughter sits at the table, nodding, then talking, then nodding.

I tell myself I am not going to look at her eyes.

I do anyway.

Her pupils are not pinned.

DH says she tells him she is not sleeping well.

While they are gone going to the play date I start to get up and say I have to switch loads of laundry and fold clothes.

Then I remember I cannot do that.

1. My purse is here.

2. Her dad is an insulin dependent diabetic and I have a cupboard full of nice new sharp needles. Several hundred of them.

I sit at the table watching her nod off and on and listening to the children play.

DH comes back from delivering the oldest to her play date.

Now that he is back, I can go downstairs and finish the laundry. So, I do.

I come back upstairs, she is still nodding.

DH says, "it's 3:35. Don't you have to pick up B at work?"

She comes alive, says Oh, yeah. Gets baby, gets coat etc and shoes put on.

Leaves.

What a weird life we all lead.

I did not ask her. I did not ask her to lift her long sleeves.

What would be the point, really. She is going to a methadone clinic. She is 29 years old now.

She would deny it. She would say about how she passes all her piss tests. She would say how she is really tired, is all it is.

I have heard those excuses before. Perhaps that is all it is? Perhaps not.

Like I said before, her sobriety, or lack thereof is not in my control, or that of her daughters.

Happy 2nd Birthday wonder baby, who spent the first 3 weeks of your little life in NICU being weaned off methadone. Who at age two is so tiny that she wears 9 month old clothes.