I haven’t written anything for a long time. Since June 2025, when the Police called, I’ve been fighting to put my head back on my shoulders. The chickens came home to roost for my son, almost. He’s living away from home now and studying at college. After almost a year away from weed and cocaine, he’s using again. And as the dust has settled for me, I’ve realised that my son is in big trouble with addiction. It’s so easy to kid oneself. The bargaining, explaining, excusing and trying to make the pieces of the puzzle fit in any way BUT that way. With some distance between us, I can see the situation for what it is. My son is addicted to weed, to alcohol, to cocaine, to gaming, to porn and to his phone. And now that he’s found the casino in the city, well, I know what’s coming next. I wonder what will happen if he finds himself with someone who smokes crack or uses heroin?

As all of this has unfolded over the years, my boy has become so terribly distant from me and our family. His younger sister, who doesn’t know even half of what’s been going on, thinks he’s an arsehole (her words). Of course, I can see that the distance is necessary for him to continue to meet his present needs. He’s pushed us all away. He’s upset and alienated himself from various family members. My husband is over the moon that he’s no longer at home because our lives are peaceful. Our home is calm again and with my daughter and her friends around, it’s full of laughter and light. Our wider family members who live a stones throw from our house, seldom mention him and are relieved that he’s gone too – albeit this is an unspoken understanding. The chaos and worry of the summer, which took me to the brink for the first time in my life, strained all our relationships. It caused a huge rift between me and my own brother with whom I have been very close for my whole adult life. The bottom line? Everyone got thoroughly sick of it all. So no one asks or speaks about him. Nobody wants to talks about him because he’s away now and for everyone else, it’s out of sight and out of mind. Except for one. His mother. Me, grieving the loss of my son.

I carry a constant darkness, a deep sadness that I have nowhere to go with. I go through the motions everyday. Each day ends with a sickening dread for the next day. I have a few short moments between sleeping and waking that are peaceful, then the storm rolls in and pisses on me all day. I smile. I have conversations. I do stuff that I have to do. And then I do it again the next day. I’m sober. I’m exercising. I’m eating well. I’m sleeping 9-10 hours a night. Over the past few days, I’m starting to recognise and remember these feelings as grief and loss. I tried to talk to my husband about that tonight and as I did, the tears came in abundance. But he’s got nothing to give me. A cuddle would have felt good. But it wasn’t offered. The whole experience has exhausted him. It’s exhausted everyone. It’s easier for everyone else to accept the situation. It’s not easy for me. I suppose that’s just a mother’s burden. One is the loneliest number.