Writer Chick has been kind enough to let me post some stuff I have been
holding in a long time about my son. I’ve needed to get it out but I didn’t
want him or the family reading it. I feel I can share all of it with you and
even if no one reads it at least it will have helped me to better understand
what happened and what is still happening.
Even now when my cell phone rings and I see it is him calling, my stomach
feels queasy because most times he is calling to tell me something bad has
happened to him. But I’m his mother. I can’t just ignore the call even
though I know whatever he tells me will worry me and I will have a
stomachache for hours until I can talk myself down.
He’s been in Buffalo since last September. At first he was so happy being
there but as winter set in you could hear the depression in his voice. He
got a job as a valet driver. He loved the job but like every job he ever
had he got fired. Of course, it’s never his fault. He always has some excuse
as to why he got fired. I think it was in March that things started to
really go downhill for him. He managed to find a part time valet job but his
girlfriend was getting tired of paying for everything for him. That’s when
he relapsed and did cocaine. I don’t know how many times he did it. He said
just once but he never tells the truth. I have found that even recovering
drug addicts lie. He’s been lying for so long I don’t think he remembers
how to tell the truth or why people should tell the truth.
There is so much to our story I believe I could write a whole book about it
and someday I may. You remember that book “A Million Little Pieces” by James
Frey? Come to find out it was a book he wrote as non fiction but most of it
turned out to be fiction about his so called drug addiction. Everything I
write here happened for real. It includes his addiction to heroin,
prescription drugs, cocaine, crack, and pot. It includes my enabling him to
do these things. It includes temper tantrums, smashed walls, calls to the
police, threats of suicide, two deaths, almost losing my family because I
couldn’t let him go. It includes our house being broken into 4 times. It
includes my son going outside to get in my car to pick me up at work and
being approached by his ex drug dealer, with a gun, looking for money. It
includes my son going cold turkey from heroin and oxycontin at home and
watching him suffer through the worst withdrawals you could imagine, not
once but twice. It includes coming home and finding him sitting on the
bathroom floor surrounded by a million little pieces of his bedroom door.
And I still blame myself. That’s all I can write at the moment. The
memories are too vivid and frightening. I hope to be able to write more
because there is so much to this story. Maybe it will touch just one person
and help them whether they are an addict or a relative or friend of an
Note from Writer Chick: I greatly admire Joan’s courage in writing this post and I encourage you, if you haven’t already, to visit her wonderful site here.