This Christian momma is tired- but here sits another experience in the travels of addiction. I learned it can’t be me, I can’t save, fix, or carry the weight of an addiction I don’t have.
I had reached my end. A year ago, everything changed. Not because you chose recovery, but because I did.
You worked every angle to get your way. We worked every opportunity to help you live.
The best question I read was, “Where do I end and the other person begins?”
In hoping to help her brother, my daughter once told me, “Take him to the graveyard and force him to pick his plot. Because it’s either death, jail, or treatment.”
“To Become” Have I become a wretched soul Emotions held in grips untold. For pain has faltered And despair discreet, Of darkened hearts in tragedy. And while no tears escape, I shutter in fear of Satan’s fate, Of lost souls in temporary hold. There’s jealousy of addictions grasp, That holds a hand I held last. …
. .”It is the awkward space of anticipatory grief (when you know the end is near) and longing for life to return. Here we meet our darkest thoughts and our deepest hope, and it is in the black undercurrent of life they collide.”..
“My son overdosed, March 22.” “They found my daughter’s body on February 28. I am so numb.” “I can’t breathe, my baby is gone. #Forever33”
An addict's mother crying, as the day begins. Endless prayers are rising, her hope speaks to win. But battles are not owned by mothers on the side. And gloves may be on, but never touch the fight.
When momma mothers addiction.