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Another Day in Paradise

As I wake up in the night to see the missed call from the jail, my heart skips a beat.
Again.

What is this? #5 in 3 years?

But then I realize I’m not even upset or scared. It hardly fazes me! That’s what’s scary.

Hey at least he called for mothers day……..

Sarcasm aside, this Mothers Day was sad.
No BBQ’s or parties. My fractured  family is suffering.

I had spent the afternoon by myself. In a melancholy reflective state. Looking at pictures. Reading up on treatments & the new opiod vaccine that is being considered.

The answer to this problem is a hundred -fold. Not a one time cure.

One of the pictures I came across is from 27 years ago.
Family times. In the backyard.
I see my son in the background.
He’s staring at the family who’s gathered around the trampoline.

He looks lost.

Sandwiched in the middle.
Between the babies and the first born high expectation achiever.

What suffering was he starting to experience?

Did he feel left out? Unimportant?

Did his heart yearn to be the one who got the attention?

The future would say yes. He spent the next 15 years trying to BE SoMEBODY.

Trying to be the funniest. ( he was)
The most daring ( he was )
The most successful ( he was ).

Until all that wasn’t enough.

He turned to the most rewarding brain food ever. Heroin.

His life spiraled.

Now, the day after mothers day, this little boy sits in jail.

Sick, freezing, scared.

No one cares. And why should they.
He’s just another j. key.

Pass more laws they say.

Harsher sentences.

No more harm reduction monies. It’s encouraging drug use.

These people don’t know my boy.

Stricter, colder, harsher punishment isn’t going to heal his damaged brain.

He needs connection, food, proper housing, counseling, positive accountability.

But how do I say that without sounding like an enabling mother?

We are damned if we do………

For now….. I want my boy to have a breakthrough.

I want to go back to this picture and tell that boy on the step that he’s loved. That he’s gonna face some hard shizz.
But that he can Do Hard Things and get better.
I want him to know that he’s worth it. That he can have a happy life again. That he can walk out of that jail cell and be a new man.

That little boy.
Every single person in that jail was a little boy like this once.

He’s loved.
He’s valued.
He’s worth saving.
Prayers to all who’s suffering today.

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