From my son, I learned that an important part of his recovery was the knowledge that our family was waiting for him when he chose health. He knew that when he made the decision to live a sober life, we would be at his side.
My reflection: A wonderful man was the director of San Patrignano, a recovering community, in Florence, Italy. He taught me the meaning of stagli vicino (stay close to him). He counseled me to stay close to my son, but out of the chaos of his addiction.
Today’s Promise to consider: There was a time when the standard advice to parents of children suffering from substance abuse was Tough Love. While there are some aspects of merit to this thought, in Italy I learned a more effective approach for our family: Stay Close. Don’t abandon your child, but stay out of the chaos of his addiction. By staying close but out of the turbulence, my son knew my boundaries, yet he also felt connected. He knew he was not alone in his battle. Through addiction’s trauma, family can be part of the medicine of recovery.
We have struggled to stay close and out of the chaos. Lots of us providing support in the beginning 11 or 12 years ago – Two trips to wilderness, 18 months therapeutic boarding school, rehab after rehab, sitting with him in the hospital after both ODs, etc. We have really backed off, but let him know we love him and will support sober living – be it therapy, transitional housing, etc. He has never really ever talked to us about “what” happened or why he has not turned around at the many, many opportunities he has had to change his path. This past weekend we set another boundary. After another go ’round of trying to him him – help him fill out his taxes – it was our fault that whatever was happening in his world was not going well. He is not in a good place and lashes out at my husband mostly. Well, my husband has now blocked his texts and calls. He just pushed us too far. The weight of the fear and anxiety has just become too much for us right now. I have been so very sad this week. Just weary and sad. I feel like this is a new broken place. I know this is kind of a temporary boundary, but putting us through the wringer time after time after we have tried so hard to help – then backing off to let him to the heavy lifting – figuring out what was “too much helping” – always praying and hoping for the best – trying to balance the boundaries – right now it is just too much. Sometimes I think because he does have us to lash out at – it kind of bolsters his opinion that he doesn’t need help. Just so sad. I pray that he gets help.
Dear Jill, I understand the sadness, frustration, feelings of betrayal, and exhaustion. Through it all, we need to take care of ourselves, too. It might be helpful to watch the video that is on our website – second tab, first video half-way down the page – because my son’s words are powerful. He talks about what helped him to choose recovery. My love to you and my prayers for peace.
As I was trying to formulate my thoughts in regards to this weeks blog, I read Jill’s response…it is verbatim of what we have experienced over the last 15 years. Sadly, my husband passed away last year and now I’m feeling so alone in this battle. I am now facing another crisis with my son and I’m extremely confused as to the difference between “tough love” and “stay close but out of the chaos”. I’ve read your book and watched your video, but am still struggling. I truly feel like I’ve never had the right resources.
Dear Charlene, Dealing with addiction is lonely, confusing, and terrifying. Without your husband, I’m sure you are feeling alone in this journey.
The difference between ‘tough love’ and ‘staying close but out of the chaos’ can be equally confusing. What helped me was the thought that the recovering alcholic at San Patrignano gave me: ‘Don’t give your son money for anything – not his cell phone, not the car, nothing, but don’t abandon him.’ This made sense to me: I didn’t give my son any money, but I answered his calls, I told him I loved him, but that’s it. I finally told him, “You’re going to die. Fight, son, fight.’ HE had to make the decision to change his life. I had to make the decision to live my life and to take care of me. Confoundingly, when I started getting healthier (exercising, eating well, sleeping, meditating, etc), he changed his life.
This is only my walk. We each have to find our own way. There is no silver bullet, no perfect resource that gives us the answer. I found peace and direction at Al-Anon meetings where I met other parents who understood my walk. Al-Anon was my salvation. Did I continue to struggle? Yes. I think we all do as we watch our children suffer.
I’ll stay close in love and prayer.
Libby, thank you so much for your response…I am indeed doing all of those things you said. Apparently I’m on the right path, it just seems so foreign as a mother. The one thing I haven’t verbally said to him are the words “you’re going to die”…even though I think them all the time. I know what his response will be because of the frame of mind he’s in and I don’t want to hear it.
Dearest Charlene, I understand. Sometimes, I think the less we say, the better for everyone. At the end of my son’s journey, I listened a lot, told him that I loved him, and that was it. My love and prayers.
Thank you for the response Libby. I did watch the video and listened to your son. His words were good to hear. I sent my son a text telling him I loved him and urging him to fight. I agree with you that sometimes saying only a few words speaks much louder then an entire discussion. Most of the time it comes out sounding like a lecture anyway. Peace to you, Charlene and all the rest who are walking this road.
You’re right – sometimes, whatever we say, they hear as a lecture or just plain wrong. I have a new mantra, “Talk less, pray more.” When I remember to abide by it, we’re all better for it. Love to you.
Thank you Jill…I wish you the same. Our children deserve more in this life than the ugliest disease they are struggling with.