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.