Don't Give Up Hope

Seven years ago our 38-year-old son was on a downward spiral of drinking that finally led to drugs: Meth to be specific. For more than one year we were in the dark about it until he was out of control—lost his job and had a son. We could not believe how naive and blind we were.  Then it all started to make sense.  The lack of money, the weird phone calls, the not showing up for family events, his actions, and his physical appearance.

            For two years we tried desperately to get him help; one treatment program after another and always telling our son we love him.  We ourselves started to attend recovery meetings, where we met other people going through the same thing.

            Finally we realized that it was beyond our control.  We were prepared for the worst and we told our son that we needed to take care of ourselves.  We detached with love.  He could always come to our house to shower and get a meal but he could not live with us, nor would we give him any money.  Our son was arrested and we did not bail him out.  He was so angry with us, but we told him we loved him.  He was sentenced to go to a treatment program.  He literally had only the clothes on his back, not even a pair of shoes, and it was winter.  We told him to call when he was settled in and that we loved him.

            He knew he was losing his family and possibly his son.  That was three years ago.  Today our son has gone through treatment, is working a program of recovery, and has custody of his son.  We all take it a day at a time.

-- Larry & Peggy