Their Addiction-My Journey- Addiction’s Language

Do they think we are clueless?

I wonder if addicts believe those around them don’t know. I suppose parents are naive at times, or fearful, maybe even resigned. In the hope of a moment of peace, they turn away from reality for a brief second. Yet, inside we know.

We tirelessly watch as they rush in the house, run up and down the stairs like they’re running from fire, and talk nonsense for a straight hour. Addicts ramble on with no coherency in saying a word. Other times, they slur in slow motion. We jump back and forth in conversation between yesterday’s dilemma and tomorrow’s decent.

Addiction is a lethal whirlwind- long before the heart stops, the individual disappears.

For every day of clarity, are ten of garbled moments and confusion. (My confusion) We are sucked in by the vacuum of deceit, fabrication, and defiance. Exhausted by the fast-paced ride, we collapse, trying to make sense of it all.

Amid the turmoil, we miss our kid. We want those legit talks about things that matter, and the peace of knowing where they are.

Do addicts miss us too?

Drug in by their mess, we stand alone in waiting. Hope takes on new meaning for parents of users. It exists within the sad moments we can’t escape- heading to jail for the tenth time, lying in hospital beds, court date after court date, rehab after rehab. We give up while always holding on. It is baffling.

While he runs all over this house, I sit quietly on the couch. Battling pneumonia, he doesn’t ask me how I am or if he can help. I am nothing but a shadow in his vision. “Hi, mom, love you.”..”..bye, mom, love you..”

It feels privileged to receive a greeting. He gave me the rundown (of what I don’t know) changed clothes five times, ran in and out of the house, left, came back, then went again.

I am physically tired to keep up today. Mentally, I’m still unpacking the dialogue. We visit three different people these days-the fast-talker, the zombie, and the guy we used to know. I love it when that guy is here!

I won’t give up. I pray and apply all I know to each unique situation and moment. I love through it as Jesus has loved me. I gave up certain parts of helping, for now, no need to contribute to inappropriate behavior and choices. I cry alone, but I still hope. One day, the guy we used to know will stay.

It will be a great day.