This is part of a journal entry that I wrote seven years ago: I don’t have the energy to deal with this: my son’s addiction and the chaos that comes with it. Where do I end and where does he begin? How much of a safe haven do I provide? Do I allow him to come home, again? I’m confused and I need time to think.

My personal reflection on the passage above offering my thoughts today: When I allowed Jeff’s addiction to be in control of my life, I lived in fear that if I didn’t take action immediately and decisively that my son would go onto the streets and something worse would happen. I allowed fear to rule my behavior and I gave up my will to the addiction.

I’ve learned that I don’t have to decide at that moment. When my son called me in times of crisis and demanded an immediate answer, I didn’t have to give it. The addiction was hungry and wanted my life as well as his. I gave myself the gift of time. When I allowed myself time to think, I could breathe again.

Today’s Promise to consider for all of us who love addicts: No one can force me to make a decision and very few decisions have to be made immediately. With time to think, my decision will be better. I will give myself this gift of time.

My mom with Jeremy and Jeff

A mother wrote an email message to me. This is part of it: My son was addicted from age twelve to seventeen, and he is good today. He used LSD and marijuana laced with PCP and was in many rehabs. I started Al-Anon and stayed for eleven years. As the twelve steps teach us, in order to keep what we have, we need to give it away. I stayed in the program because I felt an obligation to give others hope when they were seemingly hopeless. The program and its principles never cease to help me through something at least once a day.

My personal reflection of the passage above offering my thoughts today: Al-Anon was a lifeline for me as it is for many of us. There aren’t many resources available for parents, but Al-Anon offers us a safe and anonymous environment where we know that we’re not alone and where we can learn from each other’s pain. The twelve steps are a model for good living and help us to face the addiction and find our spiritual awakening. The twelfth step teaches us about service, reaching out a hand to help another.

Today’s Promise to consider for all of us who love addicts: I will reach out my hand to another mother, father or loved one. Even though I’m in great pain, I will be there for someone. I will give what I’ve learned and try to help them, and in doing so help myself. As I start 2011, I promise to give back and help someone else.

This is part of a journal entry that I wrote five years ago on Christmas, 2005. Merry Christmas, Lib. Childless: neither son is home. This is the first Christmas that we have not all been together. Jeff is in California in another recovery institution. Jer is in Florida and said he had to work, but I think he just didn’t want to come home to this mess.

How often can a heart break? Even after I say I won’t hope and I won’t care, hope and care seep into my bones and I think that maybe he’ll make it this time.

What is the Lord trying to teach me? Am I to let go? Realize I have no control? What is happening in my life? Dear Lord, I am sad and beaten down.

My personal reflection on the passage above, offering my thoughts today: Jeff was exactly where he needed to be: in recovery. Jeremy didn’t want to come home and I can understand. I wish I had been able to trust that my sons were making the best decisions for themselves. Even though I was miserable and broken, they were doing what they needed to do to survive.

Christmas of 2005 taught me that I had to let go and trust; it taught me that I could not control Jeff’s or Jeremy’s actions. Christmas 2005 proved to be a turning point in our lives. Christmas 2006 brought both boys home, healthy and happy to be together.

Today’s promise to consider, for all of us who love addicts: Today I’ll trust that we are all exactly where we are meant to be. I don’t need to understand why.

My son wrote this to me about his first rehab center (he was nineteen years old): I was shocked that there were no secrets – no feelings that were uniquely mine. I still owned the details, but there was a community of other people across all ages that used drugs as I did and faced issues similar to mine. On some level, everyone was dealing with the same type of broken relationships, legal issues and personal shame. I remember being comforted by the commonalities, thinking that treatment would fix the addiction.

My personal reflection on the passage above offering my thoughts today: There are many commonalities among addictions and this is one reason why Alcoholics Anonymous and Al-Anon work. Within the group, we see ourselves and hear our pain expressed by others. We learn that we’re not alone. My son found comfort in this, and so did I. In our trauma, we find ourselves in others. In our stories, we learn. I resisted attending Al-Anon meetings for several years, but it became my lifeline. It didn’t fix the addiction, but it helped me to fix myself.

Today’s Promise to consider for all of us who love addicts: I will acknowledge the addiction and allow myself to get help from others. I must give myself the gift of learning from other’s pain. I am not alone.

A mother wrote an email message to me. This is part of it: My husband and I called the police and had our son arrested because he was talking about suicide while in a drug-induced state. I think the hospital was a real eye-opener for him and I’d like to think that he was even relieved that we stepped in. Now he has to see someone for his problems whether he likes it or not. I hope he will continue with the process. Sometimes all you really have is hope. It is the one thing that I cling to dearly and refuse ever to give up.

My personal reflection on the passage above, offering my thoughts today: We try to help our children by forcing them into rehab, offering and paying for a recovery facility, calling the police or throwing them out of the house. But like a boxer in the ring, addiction comes out of the corner, gloves raised as it glares at us with mockery. We throw up our fists and we want to fight, but addiction fights dirty. It takes our children.

Jeff once told some young people in recovery, “Some of you will get it and stop, some of you will have to get as sick as I was and then you’ll stop, but some of you will never get it and you’ll die. And that’s just the fact of the matter. You have to choose. No one can do it for you.”

Today’s Promise to consider for all of us who love addicts: I know that I can’t fight this fight for him; he has to do it for himself. I’ll love him and encourage him to get help. I’ll pray that he puts on his own boxing gloves and fights.

This is part of a journal entry that I wrote four years ago: My heart aches for my second son. I wish I could have been stronger for him so that he could have shared with me his pain and confusion during the years of Jeff’s active addiction. Instead, I badgered Jeremy with questions about Jeff’s actions and drug use – so wrong. Jeremy needs to be able to trust that I am here for him.

My personal reflection on the passage above, offering my thoughts today: While I was stuck in the place of worry for my addicted son, I somehow lost the power to focus my energy on my younger son. My love for him never wavered and my heart was always with him. The problem was that my energy was sucked down with worry and concern. I felt exhausted and splintered into pieces. Jeremy needed support through the trauma.

Today’s promise to consider, for all of us who love addicts: I will be present for my non-addicted child. He deserves my best. I will listen to him today: I will listen to his concerns, hopes and joys. I will let him know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, how important he is to me and how much he is loved.

A mother wrote an email message to me. This is part of it: When I awake every morning and go to sleep every night I feel God’s presence in my life and in the life of my child. My son is good today, but I know it’s one day at a time. Dealing with addiction takes courage, humility and gratitude: courage to stay close and to love our child, humility to remember that the addiction is strong and can come back at any time (especially when we least expect it) and gratitude for our daily blessings.

My personal reflection on the passage above, offering my thoughts today: Gratitude is powerful. When my son was in active addiction, I remember being grateful that he was still alive. My prayer every morning was, “Dear Lord, thank you for keeping him alive today.” It’s hard to be grateful when our children are still out there on the streets, but gratitude is important, everyday.

My son is good today, and I know that it’s for today. Tomorrow is another choice. There is no finish line with addiction.

Today’s Promise to consider for all of us who love addicts: I will remain humble in the face of addiction. For today, I will live in a space of gratitude.

My son wrote this to me about his first rehab center (he was nineteen years old): Early seeds were definitely planted and my perception of drugs started to shift. It’s hard to escape your first time in treatment with a carefree regard for drugs intact. I began hearing words like “addiction” and “disease” in the same sentence as “friends” and “parties.” Counselors talked about cravings and they had clinical terms for the anxieties associated with my personal world of drugs. I was shocked that they knew so much and I was shocked that other people felt the same way that I did.

My personal reflection on the passage above offering my thoughts today: My son once told me that drugs started as a party and ended as a sandstorm. But by then it was too late and he couldn’t find his way out. Drugs are ubiquitous. Some kids try and stop, while others, like mine, start and don’t stop. We parents need to talk with our children about the choices with which they’ll be faced.

Today’s promise to consider for all of us who love addicts: Just as the addict has to learn about his addiction, so do I. I’ll learn in Al-Anon; I’ll read books and talk with professionals. I’ll learn so that I can better help my loved one and myself.

A mother wrote an email message to me. This is part of it: My son is an alcoholic. My feelings of guilt, shame and helplessness for him are intensified because I, too, am a recovering addict. Even though my son was raised in an alcohol and drug-free home, addiction found him. I ache for him as his mother, but only another recovering addict knows the TERROR an active addict lives with. Sometimes I feel temporary peace that I confuse with wellness, but I live with the fear that chaos will find us. I don’t know what to do to stop our pain.

My personal reflection on the passage above, offering my thoughts today: How do we help our children? I don’t understand, not really, the terror, guilt or shame with which an addict lives. But my son has used the same words when describing his feelings about his addiction. He once told me, “An addict loathes himself and what he is doing to the people he loves.”

As parents, we want the pain to stop, but we are powerless against the addiction. Our children must make the choice of wellness for themselves. For parents to admit that we are powerless is humbling.

Today’s Promise to consider for all of us who love addicts: I will remain humble in the face of addiction. I recognize that I am powerless to change my addicted love one: I am powerless to change anyone. But I will stay close.

A mother wrote an email message to me. This is part of it: I’m giving up on prayer. I’m afraid. Recovery was going well, I thought, making meetings, new job he likes, nice girlfriend…I was beginning to trust and hope. In the last week, money taken from my purse, relapse, violation of probation. Now it’s back to court and maybe prison this time. I can’t do this again.

My personal reflection on the passage above, offering my thoughts today: Hope is fragile and fear is powerful. I wonder why fear seems to be stronger than hope? I don’t know, but I do know that there are times when I felt like giving up on prayer. Sometimes it’s easier to lose hope and faith than to keep feeling hopeful and being crushed. When the addiction rises up again and again and smacks us, knocking us to the ground, we hurt and don’t know what to do. It is then that we are in danger of giving up hope. But if we lose faith and hope, all is lost. We need to stay close to our children, but our children need to fight their own battles.

Today’s Promise to consider for all of us who love addicts: I am only human and sometimes I feel as though I can’t go on. But I will. I will go on in hope.

We can’t be armor for our children. We can only be supporting troops. Irwin Shaw