Never give up hope.
I’ve been inspired over and over by the testimonies
of those who have lived through the nightmare of addiction and managed
to regain control of their lives. When you find yourself discouraged
and ready to give up hope for someone you love, you may find
these accounts to be the inspiration you need.

This story comes to us from a woman I recently helped coach
through some very tough times. Little did I realize just how tough. I like
to try to remember, “you never know just what someone might be going
through . . .”

Although it was difficult for her to revisit these experiences, she did
a superb job recounting the past and sharing her insights. But for the
grace of God and her wise but painful decisions about how to handle
Dan, she could so easily have had one more funeral to attend.

Dan’s Story
A Mother’s Painful Lessons Learned

It is difficult to think back on the story of my son, Daniel, and his addiction.
It is hard to experience once again the pain of that time in my life. I
do so—that I may remember more clearly the lessons I have learned and
perhaps help someone else who may be facing this destructive disease.

Although Dan’s father and I divorced when Dan was seven, it was in Dan’s
early middle school years when my family started on his painful
path of using. Perhaps Dan’s use started because there was more friction
between his parents, or his best friend moved away in 6th grade, or that
in six months time Dan went from a little boy to looking like he was
eighteen years old. It really doesn’t matter how it began, the truth is Dan
used because he is an addict.

My relationship with my son was very strong and loving throughout
his young life, so when there started to be some tension and fighting, it
seemed normal; it was important that he “break” from his strong ties
with his mom to search out his identification as a young man. I still think
that was a reasonable explanation initially but I held on to that explanation
long after I knew in my heart it was more than that.

My son was an athlete who excelled at all team sports. He had gone
through puberty early which gave him an advantage of size and coordination.
He was unassuming and coachable; his teams were successful
and his teammates looked up to him. For whatever reasons, he was attracted
to the wrong crowd. He said kids his age were boring and since
he looked older, he gravitated to older kids.

In eighth grade his behavior became erratic. He would get angry in
a split second over little things and he started punching walls and breaking
chairs. He got into some minor trouble at school and at the end of
his eighth grade summer, he and a friend stole a car. He went through
the diversion program and participated in a restorative justice program.
It seemed he really understood that he needed to change his ways.

Dan’s first year of high school had many successes in academics
and sports. Socially, he still had friends his age but once again, the older
crowd was becoming a big part of his life. Toward the end of his freshman
year something changed and he started shutting me out of his life
again. At the time I knew it was a red flag but could not convince his dad
or his counselor that he was using.

Sophomore year was difficult. Dan would not speak to me, he lived
full-time with his dad and was spiraling down. He was in therapy off
and on with someone who was highly respected in the community and
credible as an adolescent counselor. I kept insisting that I thought Dan’s
behavior was indicative of substance abuse, but no one agreed.

In February, Dan came to my house after school drunk with marks
on his arms from hurting himself. He said he wanted to die. I called
the police, Dan went to the ER and then was released to a psychiatric
hospital. When he was to be dismissed, he said he would not do any
outpatient care and his therapist recommended a wilderness program. I
knew I couldn’t watch him 24-7 and I knew that is what he needed. He
was there for two and a half months—which gave me some hope and
some sleep, but the program did not emphasize the disease of addiction.
Dan had no 12-step skills, no understanding of his disease and the first
weekend home he went to a party and came home totally smashed.

I don’t remember specifics of junior year. It was a fog of sleepless
nights, days and nights of not knowing where he was or what he was
doing or who he was with. Dan’s dad was still in denial and refused to
address the use issues. Most high school kids drink and get in trouble,
right? This is just normal high school stuff —was the response I would
get from so many people. I knew it wasn’t; I knew Dan was one of those
people who could not drink alcohol. I heard rumors about the people he
was friends with and some of the criminal things they were doing. And
I was torn about what I should do. I consulted many different therapists
and was told there was nothing I could do. I called the police, I called
a parole officer whose son struggled with the same issues, I talked to
friends. It was the most frustrating, helpless, depressing time of my life.
I would wake in the middle of the night in panic. Was my son dead
somewhere? Was he lying passed out in the freezing cold? If I did something
now, would I save his life? I would call his phone, not expecting him to pick up,
but believing that it might wake him and keep him from dying.
It was the most stressful and hopeless time of Dan’s addiction for
me. He ended up in the psychiatric hospital in February. Again, I asked
the professionals if this could be a result of using and they said maybe,
but they were looking at mental illness diagnoses.

In the summer after his junior year, my family experienced a tragedy.
My oldest daughter’s husband was killed by an impaired driver.
It was devastating to the whole family and a turning point for Dan and
me. Dan, of course, stepped up his use. He started using hard drugs and
dropped out of school. For me, I had to turn my attention to my daughter
and granddaughter. It forced me to “let go” of Dan’s use and abuse
issues and give them to him to figure out. I still prayed that he would
live and choose to live clean and sober butI stopped trying to make it
happen. My response changed from “You have to stop doing this to
yourself or you will die” to “I pray that you choose to live life clean
and sober and let me know what I can do to help you.” I was consumed
with grief over the loss of my son-in-law and with the need to help my
daughter as a single parent. I had to prioritize my use of energy with a
full-time job, my twenty-seven year old widowed daughter, my fatherless
granddaughter, my fifteen year old daughter, and my using addict
son. I just didn’t have the energy to continue worrying about him the
same way I had been. I had to “let it go” and trust that he would figure
it out.