ƛ͙ Ɗ͙ƛ͙Ƴ͙ Ɩ͙Ɲ͙ Ƭ͙Ӈ͙Є͙ Լ͙Ɩ͙Ƒ͙Є͙

A person with a substance use disorder.

Is the correct title.

But today. It doesn’t matter. My son is lost in the chaotic world of addiction. He’s in pure survival mode.

And so am I.

The middle of the night awakenings are wearing on me…. Checking my phone for “the call”.

Apparently its called “anticipatory grief”

I don’t care what its called. I hate it.

I sink back into bed glad for one more day of hope.

Hope that a miracle will happen. That he will have a spiritual awakening. A moment of clarity. That he will suddenly devote his life to recovery as hard as he has devoted to his addiction.

My heart sinks a million feet when I get a glimpse of his pictures.

That boy. That all american boy that I’m just supposed to not talk about.

Detach they say.

Let him go. Let him hit rock bottom.

That phrase makes me laugh. Not a laugh of joy. Of sheer terror. Rock bottom? Losing a million dollar business, 1/2 million dollar house- hand built by my talented driven son; 2 beautiful babies who don’t know their daddy. His dignity, his respect. His livelihood, his honor, his dreams, his reputation, his honor.

Rock bottom?

A disease so powerful that it can make a man not care anymore. A drug so damn strong- thanks purdue- that it makes him lose 100 lbs in 6 months because food is an inconvenience compared to it’s euphoria.

But it’s not even euphoria anymore. It’s chasing the dragon….

Just trying to keep from getting sick every day.

And I chase my own dragon.

The dragon of despair….. Then a rush of relief….a glimmer of hope…..dashed with a sickening wave of disappointment.

But despite all this. I hold on. Because as long as I’m the mother of an addict, there’s the teeny tiny sliver of 🌠ⱧØ₱Ɇ🌠that I could soon be the mother of a recovered addict.