This morning, I have re-read the previous posts I’ve made in my blog. I haven’t read any of them for quite some time and it has made my heart ache. We have been living with this for years now, and he is only 21 years old. I’ve been writing about it since he was 19 years old. Today, my heart aches because my blog posts remind me that nothing has changed or improved. In the day-to-day living of life, the undulating nature of circumstances and the inevitable marching on of time; I have forgotten the details of past experiences. But I have documented them, albeit intermittently and infrequently, in this blog.

My son had another crisis in July that left him jobless. Filled with shame, he swore he was changing his life. The weed was stopping and he promised himself, and us, that things would be different. He spent a lot of time at home, he re-engaged with us, he was helpful and pleasant to be around AND he actually made no changes to his life whatsoever other than abstaining from weed and alcohol. We asked him to engage in a program, to consider accessing therapy, to start an exercise regime – anything to begin the process of change in his brain. He wouldn’t do it. So, two months on, and he’d started using again whilst away from home. And we knew almost immediately. We knew because he is different when he has had weed in his system. He has adhered to our boundaries at home which means we don’t see him stoned, but we can still SEE it. His face changes, closes in on itself and contorts, his personality darkens and he becomes moody, unpredictable and confrontational. His understanding of social rules and boundaries disappear and he behaves in a wholly entitled and arseholery kind of way. It is terrifying. It’s like knowing two different people; one of them is my son and I recognise and love him and can feel hope in my heart for his future. The other is an addict; and I see only destruction, prison, darkness and death for him. And I’m starting to lose sight of the person who was my son, we see him so infrequently. The pain of that loss is almost unbearable. Accepting this version of him is even worse because I don’t want that guy in my life.

I know he doesn’t want this for himself and I can see the efforts he makes when the shit hits the fan. But I also see how fucked up his thinking is. That’s the big one for me. He thinks in strange ways. He can’t problem solve for himself at all anymore. We are leaving him to figure things out for himself – and he can’t. All the things he could do to help himself, he just won’t do. He admits he’s an addict and believes he’s not in denial because he admits that. But I think he is in denial and that it’s more deep rooted and complex than simply saying ‘I’m an addict’.

I’m not in a good place today at all. My son has been a stain in our lives and it makes me feel sick just thinking about him sometimes. I feel so guilty because I feel that way. And of course, underneath that feeling is a mother’s unending love for her child. And accepting that this pain is just part of my life now is the most depressing and sad feeling I’ve ever experienced. And no amount of Al-Anon support work will change that. It has helped me survive and live again. But it will never ease the grief and loss I feel.