Friday, May 6, 2011


My Charlie went to rehab in Feburary. He was smoking meth... popping pills... snorting cocaine... just about anything he could get his hands on that would keep him high. But the meth... oh that drug is vicious! Vicious! It even scared HIM.

He called me on the 16th of February and told me he needed help. That he couldn't continue to live like that. Told me he was smoking meth - showed me the blisters in his mouth. I wanted to fall on my knees and cry out - I wanted to HURT someone - ANYONE. But I stood there and told him I loved him and that if he really wanted the help I would find it.

And I did. The very next day, February 17, he went to California for rehab. Didn't stay as long as he should have. He came back "determined" not to do drugs and for weeks he seemed to be okay. Then one day he comes home and I SEE it in his eyes. He used again. He didn't deny it. Told me he "slipped" - that it would not happen again.

This past weekend, he left the beach on Saturday after Maddie's first birthday party and I didn't see him again until Wednesday. The problem is that no matter how high he is, how screwed up he is, he calls me 10 times a day... just to say hi... to tell me he loves me... to tell me he is OKAY, he is SOBER... "Don't worry mom, I'm not doing anything." I tell him I don't believe him and so he continues to call to "reassure" me. I don't think he even remembers he does that. Yet I can hear in his voice - his very drugged voice - that he feels guilty for letting me down.

I don't know what drugs he used this weekend. I guess it really doesn't make any difference.

He is using again and my heart is once again broken in 1000 pieces.

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

What amazing people live in this world!

It hurt my heart to receive so many emails from so many women who are going through the same things (and much worse) with their children as I am living with my son.

So much pain... so much despair. I have received such beautiful and raw emails from mothers who are hurting - who wake up hurting - end their day hurting...

This post
is one that touched me deeply. I can feel her pain. Her life has realized my greatest fears... and yet, it is a story of strength - of faith. She truly truly touched me.

Please take a moment to read her post. After reading it I realize that although my pain is just as real as hers, she has suffered so much more and has still come out on the other side of the rainbow. Like her, I have placed my son in God's hands.

Saturday, January 1, 2011


How do I stay positive and focused on a new year when I look at my son and know he is using again? What can I possibly look forward to with the constant pain, the constant knowledge that he is a drug addict, that any day, at any hour, he can be arrested and incarcerated for an extended period of time, or worse, can die from these drugs he abuses?

Where can I find some sunshine in all those dark clouds? How do you prepare yourself to lose your son, your first born to either death or prison? He is addicted to cocaine and heaven knows what else, which leads him to drink to excess.

He believes he can handle it, that he has it under control. He doesn't. It controls him. These drugs are like a jealous mistress sultry and sexy. A mistress who won't give him up without a fight. I would fight lions and giants for him, always have,...but the drugs are stronger. The allure of easy money is more potent than even a mothers love.

Every time there is a day like today where he is physically hurting for drugs, when there are narcotic officers asking about him, I just want to die. I just want to go to sleep and never wake up again.

Because everything they say is true. He is an addict, a delinquent, a felon... He is. But he is also my first born. A baby that was so beautiful it always took my breath away when I looked at him and knew he was mine. A child who never slept in his own bed because he needed to feel me next to him in order to fall asleep. A man who has a heart of gold. Who would go out of his way to help anyone that needs him.

A man who is STILL my son, still my first born, still a huge part of my reason to live, he may not realize it, but he needs me, And I can't survive if something happened to him. It's not theatrics or drama, just fact. I would not, could not, continue to live if something happened to him. It's not a conscious decision - just fact. My heart would die with him. There is no doubt in my mind and I am ok with that. Its simply not possible for me to continue to breath if he wasn't here.

How do you help someone who really does not want the help? Who sees nothing wrong, someone who now has such loathing for himself because of his past that he simply gives up on any real future. Doesn't believe anyone will ever give him the chance to do more.

I remember the day I saw my son for the first time, I was only 19, they brought him in and just stared at me and I knew I had to think fast so I said to him - "I just met you and you have already stolen my heart. I don't know anything about babies and you don't know anything about moms so I figure we are even, but please be gentle with me my son. Please don't grow up and break my heart.... Well, you did. Many many times and all for that jealous mistress - drugs. If you are going to stay on this road until you totally destroy yourself take me as a passenger in that vehicle because I will have to die right along with you. The idea of living a life without you is not something I will accept.


TO Dancing in the Rain: Here’s my story…
Posted on January 4, 2011 by robbiekw
This is in direct response to Dancing in the Rain’s post with love and compassion: (how?)

I am a recovering addict of 21 years as of December 24th 2010. My daughter was 10 and my son was 7 when I got clean.

My son went “wayward” at a very young age… 12-13 after his father and I split up. His sister delved into her school studies to cover up her feelings and he found another way out of feeling his feelings… He was involved in gang activity, running a breaking and entering ring-stealing & robbing from homes, as well as selling using drugs and God only knows what else…

On July 5th, 2000, he was involved in an incident that almost killed him… actually, he died and was brought back to life three times… his head was swelled twice the normal size… he had been beaten in the head with a pipe and a brick… and kicked many times… his whole body showed badly beaten marks and cuts… I was never more frightened in my whole life… All I knew is that I had to turn him over to God…

I KNEW I had to release him to God, totally turn all power I thought I might even try to have… and give everything to God. I prayed that if my son was allowed to live, to not let him be a vegetable… to have a purpose… other wise, God, please take him…

I thanked God for the blessing of all the years of allowing me to be Charly’s mom, to hear his first words and to see him grow… and to know him… “Please God…” I said, “Take him if you will…”

Charly walked out of the hospital two days later… with the exception of the cuts and bruising, he looked very normal… no swelling, no limping… He vowed to me to make changes in his life… and I had no idea that the changes involved attaining a handgun… to protect himself… and me…

One year after my son’s resurrection, on May 25th 2001, a fight broke out at someone’s house… two different gangs (my son’s and another) were there… and an altercation was taking place over a hunting gun–lost or stolen was the argument… between an opposing gang member and a neutral person… Beer bottles were flying, the place was hopping with anger and yelling… and Charly went to get his gun from the car… he and the rest of the kids (ages 17-19) were all very drunk… Charly thought to shoot the gun in the air so everyone would just stop… But, as Charly raised his gun to shoot it into the air, he misfired arm-out-to-the-side straight before reaching the air and his friend stepped directly into the line of fire… a split second… an accident… a tragedy…

His friend dropped to the ground… everyone fled… Charly and many other kids were arrested two hours later… His friend died of a single gunshot wound to the head the next day.

Charly’s trial started on March 6th, 2002 at 9:00 am… and his sister, his only sibling and best friend in the whole world, gave birth to a precious boy… my only grandson… Charly’s only reason to be an uncle, at 6:32 pm that day. Irony. My son… my grandson…

Charly was convicted of second degree murder in April of 2002. He was sentenced to serve 25 – 34 years in prison… He was 18 years old then.

January 12, 1011, Charly will be 28. I visit him when I can, but he is currently about 10 hours away from me.

I truly understand your pain. I am crying as I write this… as I usually do when I tell this story. How did I stay clean through this??? I can only say it was God, my friends in the program and the program (12 Steps) that did it. A miracle, if you will.

Between each paragraph as lots of hours of worry, tears, anxiety, stress, questions, grasping for answers… and many many sleepless nights…

Why did I share this with you? Because, I can only say to thank God for the time God gave him to you… and to completely hand him over to God… surrender him to God… After all, he was a blessed gift from God to you in the first place… God trusted you with him… All you need to do is trust God with him now…

When you truly give him to God, you will feel the most blessed comfort, knowing your son is in good hands… his Father’s hands.

I know God has a plan for Charly… or Charly would never have lived through that one day he had been beaten so badly… Prison is just a temporary place for him… God is in charge. I am not. And God loves my children more than I could ever imagine loving them… and I know how much I love them…

I think you understand now…

…and then there’s this thing God does with me… sharing this story… with you… and others…