Heroin Addiction: A Day In The Life Of A Mother Of A Heroin Addict
Its midnight and the rest of the world is sleeping but I am not. My thoughts have me wide awake. I know I have to work so think I should try to lay down. So I curl up on the couch making sure that I am facing the front door always fearful that one of the dealers you owe money could come late at night looking for you and kick in the door. Hoping that if that happens that my dog will be able to protect us both. I lay there begging, pleading and bargaining with God for your life telling him I will trade mine for yours.
The hours of sleep I get are restless and full of nightmares. 5:30 am and the alarm goes off. My first thoughts of the day are of you and that I am mother of a heroin addict, the overwhelming sadness fills my soul. I get ready for work and look in the mirror. The dark circles under my eyes from lack of sleep match the ones under your eyes from your addiction. I cry on my way to work as the radio plays and I think of you and wonder did you make it through the night. I pull myself together, take a deep breath and walk in the door at work. I try hard to focus on my task at hand but there you are always on my mind. My cell phone always close by waiting for that bad phone call about you that I fear is coming. They tell me they are bringing me a blood draw to do. I look to see another face of another kid with dark circles under their eyes and scars on their arms that look just like yours.
That kid says to me “Your gonna have trouble getting me”. I stop them right there and say it’s ok my son is an addict too and I have drawn him. I know what to do. Those few minutes they are in that blood draw chair I use to talk to them and say whatever I can that might get through to them. I hold back the tears as I say please remember what you are doing to your family. Those kids always say I will and I am so sorry for what you’re going through. They walk away and I stand there hoping and praying I said something that will help them and I think of you. The work day is done and I drive home crying thinking of you. I pull in the driveway and I just sit there a few minutes exhausted from pushing myself through another day. I open the front door wondering if I will have anything left inside or in desperation you have come through the day and took what is left and haven’t taken off me already. I do a few chores and think its dinner time. But can’t eat because guilt washes over me because I wonder if you had anything to eat today. I get the fire going and feel guilty because I wonder if your cold because the last time you left here you didn’t even take your coat. The phone rings and I always catch my breath because I wonder if it’s my turn to get the phone call so many other heartbroken parents have gotten. It’s not this time but family members calling to see if I have heard from you today, or someone you have wronged trying to find you.
I tell them no I don’t know where you are because you are gone again. I sit here feeling guilty because I remember I have 2 other children who need me to be there mother but you and your addiction have consumed my life making me forget that. I call them and try to forget you and your addiction to focus on their lives a few minutes. I look at my empty checking account and maxed out credit cards thinking how your addiction has destroyed every part of my life. I scroll through my Facebook looking at pictures of everyone celebrating Christmas and full of smiles. I don’t smile anymore, I don’t laugh and in my head, I plan what I will do when that phone call I am dreading finally comes.
You are on the run again and mad at all of us, worse then you have ever been. So there won’t be no celebrating Christmas this year just trying to get through it. I try to watch TV but again thoughts of you flood my head. The guilt, the fear, the sadness always consuming my every thought. So your addiction hasn’t only destroyed you, it has destroyed me too. I look around and all I see are memories of you my brown-eyed boy. Pictures hang on the wall of you, your brother and sister. I find little homemade crafts you made in grade school and I think what happened to that little boy?
Reality hits me that little boy is gone and a heroin addict is what remains possessed by a drug that has stolen your soul.
Its midnight again and the nightmare of days start all over again…….. mother of a heroin addict
*this was written by an ever-suffering mother of an addict who chooses to remain anonymous