 While I was listening to a song by O+S, the words “I saw what I wanted to” made me think about addiction. During the early years of my son’s drug use, I was quick to see what I wanted to: the boy who earned high grades, the athlete who was the captain of the soccer team, the son who spoke with respect and commanded an impressive grasp of the English language. I’ve wondered why I didn’t see the boy who insisted on spending every weekend out of the house and with his friends, the boy whose clothes smelled like cigarettes, and the boy who dressed in black and had multiple stories as to where he spent the weekend nights.
While I was listening to a song by O+S, the words “I saw what I wanted to” made me think about addiction. During the early years of my son’s drug use, I was quick to see what I wanted to: the boy who earned high grades, the athlete who was the captain of the soccer team, the son who spoke with respect and commanded an impressive grasp of the English language. I’ve wondered why I didn’t see the boy who insisted on spending every weekend out of the house and with his friends, the boy whose clothes smelled like cigarettes, and the boy who dressed in black and had multiple stories as to where he spent the weekend nights.
My reflection: I saw what I wanted to. I believed the son I loved. I chose to look at the good grades and athletic prowess, and I refused to see the reality of what I think I knew was happening.
Today’s Promise: Today, I choose to live in honesty. The early years of my son’s addiction were filled with fiction – the stories I accepted, and those that Jeff projected. I believed them because, maybe, it was easier. If that’s true, what was easier became a nightmare. There is only one way out of addiction: seeing and telling the truth.
 
			
					 A mother wrote to me: My 24-year-old, heroin-addicted son is in jail. He has been using drugs since he was 14. Today, he asked me to help get him into a sober-house program. I told him that I would help him as long as he has no further involvement with his girlfriend. Even reading what I just wrote I see that I am still trying to control the outcome. I must detach with love and stay close. My next letter to him will be one of hope, love, and courage to move in the right direction and in a timeline that the court decides.
A mother wrote to me: My 24-year-old, heroin-addicted son is in jail. He has been using drugs since he was 14. Today, he asked me to help get him into a sober-house program. I told him that I would help him as long as he has no further involvement with his girlfriend. Even reading what I just wrote I see that I am still trying to control the outcome. I must detach with love and stay close. My next letter to him will be one of hope, love, and courage to move in the right direction and in a timeline that the court decides.  Johann Hari, author of
Johann Hari, author of 

 A sister of an addict wrote to me: My heart bleeds for my mother. My brother’s addiction, his emotional battles, problems, and heartache hurt her terribly. Mom needs to know that she’s not alone. She needs to find her hope again. This has been her life’s battle. I wish I could bottle the son she once had and give him back to her. God knows I’ve tried, but sadly I’m not magic. There is nothing more than I want for her but for her to have her son back. And for me to have my brother back.
A sister of an addict wrote to me: My heart bleeds for my mother. My brother’s addiction, his emotional battles, problems, and heartache hurt her terribly. Mom needs to know that she’s not alone. She needs to find her hope again. This has been her life’s battle. I wish I could bottle the son she once had and give him back to her. God knows I’ve tried, but sadly I’m not magic. There is nothing more than I want for her but for her to have her son back. And for me to have my brother back.



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