Roller Coaster

I’ve took a break from blogging for a while – not because there is nothing to blog about, but because my drug addicted son asked me not to – well, at least not to share the blogs if I wrote them.  In my mothering desperation, I complied trying to appease my drug addicted child so he wouldn’t shut me out.  He asked during a time when he was “doing better”, so I thought I should honor his wishes.  After all, me sharing my feelings about how his actions affected my life, my heart, my soul, was making it difficult for him to get a job or do anything back in the small town he’s chose to live in.  “Everyone knows you Mama. So, everyone knows it’s me you’re talking about.”  Trying to justify his reasoning, I thought to myself, “Ya know, that’s true.  Maybe I should just back off and let it be.  He’s doing better. He’s not using all the time – maybe even not at all – I don’t know.  I don’t know what really goes on.’  So, I stopped blogging/writing. 

Now, months have passed, but this hell of the addiction roller coaster has not stopped.   If you’re reading this, you know the ride I’m talking about… That up and down, back and forth, side to side, make you sick, moments of fleeting joy, roller coaster ride you can’t get off of.  Me, I’m a Mama.  I not only bought my ticket for this ride.  I gave birth to it.  This roller coaster of one moment, your child is back.  It’s like you’re pulling back into the platform. The ride is over.  Life is slowing down. It’s good.  You made it back in safe.  The next, your child is actively using. Just like that, with a jolt, you’ve zipped right on through the platform and there’s another section of track you haven’t even been on yet.  Here we go again.  Hold on. 

This roller coaster I’m on is full too.  It is carrying a father, stepfather, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and countless other friends and family all at the mercy of the operator, who just happens to be my son.  He doesn’t even realize – maybe doesn’t even care – that he is responsible for this roller coaster full of people who love him.  No, he is not responsible for our well-being.  He is; however, responsible for the emotions, trauma, and pain – all those things that go along with loving an addict – that is this ride.  He doesn’t understand that it was truly not an option for us to go on this ride.  His choices affect us whether he realizes it or whether he cares.  So, here we all are.  Strapped in and holding on.  Sometimes, that’s all we can do, but the operator sees us.  We make our presence known by staying firmly planted in his life.  He knows we’re here. He sees us.  He feels our presence.  Still, it’s a personal experience for each person – even the operator – You’re always asking yourself what kind of hell you will endure.  When will you -- can you, get off this roller coaster?

For me, there is no getting off at the next stop.  My ride on this addiction roller coaster will not end until my son decides he wants to stop and plant his feet firmly on the ground.  I know he can do it.  I have faith that he will.  God is not through working on him yet.    Until then, I’m going to hold on to my safety harness (God), and do my best to endure the ride and continue to try and enjoy the other things in life going on around me.  I’m going to cope the best way I know how, and part of coping for me is sharing my experience.  So, if the operator doesn’t like this part of the track he’s got us on, he is in control of when we get off this ride.