| Testimonials. |
Testimonials, Stories, and Articles You Need To Read...
|
My son is a drug addict. He just turned 19 years old. He has been in jail for
over 10 weeks due to stealing from cars to support his habit. We have tried,
many times, to help him and this arrest we decided to not bail him out. We are
hopeful that he is learning from his jail experience, to stop using drugs and
stay clean. He is currently waiting for an opening at a 90 day court ordered
in-patient rehab. We see him weekly and he seems much better. We have had him in
4 rehab programs in the past 2 years, mandated by us. He would go and
participate in the programs, but his heart and desire were not into rehab until
the 4th one. We fortunately, found him, puking and unconscious, in his bedroom
before he was revived and sent to a psychiatric ward for one week He tried to
kill himself. He went through another 30 day rehab program and continued going
to NA meetings for months. He had a sponsor and was able to get a job through
his sponsor. He also, by the grace of God and a good counselor, graduated high
school. Things were going very well for about 5 months then everything went
downhill once he started using drugs again. He lost his job, we took away his
car, and finally kicked him out of the house when the lies and stealing of our
money and possessions started again. Does this ever end? I love my son and would do anything for him. He is a great person and has
many things to offer in this world. He has also been a major disappointment,
stress causer, and embarrassment for me these past two years. This child of
mine, who is extremely bright, was athletic, and had great friends, is in jail.
I run into many people in our community that I avoid and others that I speak to.
The more people, basically parents of his former friends, are supportive to me.
They realize that we were good parents when he was growing up and were involved
in all aspects of his life by coaching, teaching, religious education, etc.
Still, I feel as a failure although I know I am not. Life is hard. GROWING UP IN A FAMILY PLAGUED BY ALCOHOL Growing up in a family plagued by alcohol, I believe I lived through my
childhood on survival tactics alone. All the while, telling myself …fooling
myself really, that this is how normal people live. But I knew deep down that
this wasn’t true soon I began to act out on the emotions I felt all of my life.
I rebelled, I ran, stuffed my feelings and more than occasionally this broken
little boy would lash out in anger to anyone who got to close. Then, at the
tender age of 13, I began to smoke pot. I remember thinking to myself; well, if
no body loves me and I can’t be normal, then why not try something that everyone
says will make you feel better. They say it’s like you feel all warm and fuzzy
inside, that it will make you smile. Wow, I thought, if I’m smiling all the time
and making jokes then nobody will ever know how really sad I am inside and I
will fool them all, but soon the only fool was me, at 15 I had already become a
full blown alcoholic ruining my chance at a bright future by being kicked out of
school for fighting on school grounds. I joined the marines at 17, and finished
my training with recommendations from my superiors to enter officer training
school. I of course, ignored whatever potential they saw in me and continued on
my path of destruction. Soon after, with a less than victorious return home I
began working for my stepfather’s construction company as an operating engineer,
running heavy equipment, making great money and learning a trade. Everything
went really well until feelings of worthlessness started in and I began
searching for something to fill the void, so it began my downward freefall into
a world I didn’t understand, or belong in. I started hanging out in clubs in
downtown Chicago, drinking all night, picking up girls and consequently getting
into fights. I I HAD VERY LITTLE DISCIPLINE OR GUIDANCE WHEN I WAS GROWING UP I had very little discipline or guidance when I was growing up. Both of my
parents were alcoholics. They were constantly yelling at us kids and there was
so much disorder that many times none of us knew which end was up. We were
constantly moving from one At 17 years old I joined the US Marines. Having no knowledge what so ever of what I had to go though to be a Marine, I jumped in feet first. I passed my exams, finished my training and seemed to excel until the drinking started. Once again without discipline as part of my upbringing, my rebelliousness started to scratch its way to the surface. I began to drink and hangout in taverns where sailors and Marines fought each with other. My career in the Marines was headed down the tubes. I returned home and started to work for my stepfather as a heavy equipment operator. At 20 years of age this was a fantastic opportunity for someone like me with no education to make a substantial amount of money and learn a trade along the way. But, due to my lack of better judgment and responsible behavior, I began to indulge in a whirlwind of destructive behavior. Leaving my job, I went to downtown Chicago to work as a bouncer in nightclubs and on to do security for rock bands. This career move led me to drink, Do drugs, chase girls and get paid for it! Before long, I was in way over my head and lost. I wound up meeting some very bad people that wanted to groom me to be one of their drug smugglers and I began running drugs all over the world. This poor career choice ended abruptly when I was arrested at the Mexico City Airport in 1994. There I was taken to a large prison where I spent the next five years trying to survive. Unfortunately being in prison didn’t stop me from using drugs and alcohol. You see, in a Mexican prison, drugs and alcohol are very common. While I was there I sank to an all time low, spending all my money and even trading my food for drugs. I was caught in a vicious cycle. I even got drugs on credit while at the same time fearing the dealers who killed people for not paying their bills. I didn’t know how to stop. It felt like someone else had taken over my mind, like two people were living in the same body. It was insanity. My mom would come to Mexico on a regular basis to visit me. She would talk to
me about her Heavenly Father and ask me if I was ready to accept Christ into my
life. On Christmas Eve day in 1999, a friend flew down with her son to visit me. We
planned on spending the holidays together and just when things were starting to
feel like I didn’t have to miss my country so much all hell broke lose. Inmates
who had dressed as And a million things went through my head. I was scared for my life. Then it started, the ever so subtle tug on my heart. And little by little,
the light started to shine and I began to feel the presence and love of our
Heavenly Father. Today I stand here feeling so grateful and thankful to God for
my experience in the Mexican prison. Thankful that the Lord spared my life over
and over again just to illustrate to me how much He loved me. I am thankful for
His grace and protection as He brought me home to my country safe and sound,
without a scratch. I am thankful for being restored Heavenly Father, You have kept your promises and brought me home, I am
thankful. Christian Recovery Live 2-12-02 To Whom It My Concern, John is my son, and hundreds of listeners have prayed for John for a long time. They are anxious to hear his personal story of how Christ has help him to turn from a life of crime and addiction. To a person who desires to serve God and live a clean and sober life. The focus of the show that John will be on; will be how Christ has changed his life. Our primary goal is to give testimony of how powerful Christ is. No matter how bad you have been, or how bad your situation looks. The date of the show that I was looking at is April 10, 2002. The show is on WYLL A. M. 1160 at 200. Pastor Pamela J. Heil John C. Willis Growing up in a dysfunctional family I had very little guidance and direction in my life. We moved every year so I was always the new kid at school, and could never seem to fit in. I became a bad student and a discipline problem, which I discovered drew attention. Soon I was the class clown, the school flirt, and the schoolyard brawler all wrapped up in one. I was a loner and I was alone. This went on all through my youth and then into my adulthood. Then I started running. I ran from my responsibilities; I ran from my family and friends. I ran from difficult situations and from anyone who got too close. I would get in my car or on a plane and run as far as I could. But I could never seem to get far enough away from one person: me. I indulged in a whirlwind of destructive behavior. I left a good paying job as a heavy equipment operator to work as a bouncer in nightclubs and to do security for rock groups. These great career moves allowed me to drink, do drugs, and chase girls—and get paid for it. Before long I met some people who groomed me to smuggle drugs. Now my bad choices and running could finally merge. I began running drugs all over the world. This career ended abruptly when I was arrested in Mexico in 1994. I was taken to a large prison in Mexico City, where I spent the next 51/2 years struggling to survive. In prison my drug addiction reached levels difficult even for me to believe. I had sunk to an all time low, spending all my money and even my food for drugs. I was caught in a viscous cycle, getting drugs on credit and fearing the dealers who killed people for not paying their bills. But I didn’t know how to stop. My mom had been talking to me about Christ for years, but I thought Christians were crazy. Finally, when she visited me in prison, I looked at my surroundings and realized I was the crazy one. I decided then to give my life to Jesus. God tells me He has a plan for my life, and I have to believe him because he
has kept all his promises so far. He has brought me back home to my country safe
and sound. He has returned me to sanity. I have been completely clean for two
years now, praise God! I am home and it’s a miracle to be standing here
alongside my little brother and my new sister-in-law, looking out at all the
wonderful smiling faces and knowing deep down what all the smiling is about. I
thank the Lord, our God, that by his saving grace I am here to be baptized and
to follow the example Jesus set for us. OK, Pastor Jim, can we get on with this?
I’m feeling weak in the knees! Testimony from: John C. Willis, 148 Whittington Course, St. Charles, 584-7063
CHANGE, IF YOU CAN. In May, 2002, my youngest son graduated from high school. His class rank placed him 17th out of 800. He was a National Merit Scholar Semi-finalist, an all-Sectional athlete, and was going to a major university on almost a full academic ride. He had the world by the tail and all of us were looking forward to his continued success. He flunked out of our local community college. His friends had all abandoned him, he had stolen money from us and he disappeared from home for weeks at a time, living on the street, hitchhiking around the country and then calling from half way across the country wanting to come home. How could such promise turn into such heartache? At the end of his first semester in college, he was hospitalized for a week and diagnosed bi-polar. That was the start of the downward spiral. Though medication could have given him his life back, his drug of choice was marijuana. The prescription drugs would be thrown out the car window on his way to get high with friends to control his racing thoughts. Some months later, the same marijuana relieved his depression, while the prescription drugs gathered dust on the shelf. The effect of the pot seemed to build up on my son, making him psychotic. At one point, he refused to open his mouth for 48 hours, either to eat or to talk. This resulted in a “John Doe” mental health hospitalization when the police picked him up for walking on an interstate and he refused to speak. Shortly after that, he ran away while in Kentucky, eventually making his way to Florida before calling to come home. One job after another was lost as pot became more important than every other aspect of my son’s life and the psychosis continued. At one part, he tried to remove some of his own body parts, believing they were undesirable. Multiple suicide attempts were, thankfully, unsuccessful. After steeling thousands of dollars from my husband and I, we finally filed felony changes against our son in an effort to get him into the drug court and force him to get the help he needs. The initial results were more suicide attempts, each more serious than the last. After 3 separate week long hospital stays in a 2 ½ month period, he finally found the will to live. And with the threat of jail time if he failed the thrice weekly drug test, he found the will to stay off marijuana for increasing periods of time. He has been accepted to a private college and intends to pursue an education
in computer programming. Success is within his grasp. However, marijuana is also
within his grasp, and at times the battle between the two results in jail time
for use. There is hope, but it is a small fragile flower. We pray that time see
it grow and bloom into the young man that we know is waiting to emerge. Consequences of Drug Addiction Crumbled Dreams
Brok en Psyches I was sixteen years old when my interest in drugs reached its peak. At the
time, I had few friends and spent a lot of my time on the internet. In those
circumstances, it was hard to find any drugs. However, I was very open-minded
regarding what I was willing to try. Some of my online friends had been talking
about how they were high on something called Coricidin. The first time I attempted to experiment with DXM, I accidentally bought the wrong kind. I got the Coricidin for flu or something. I took the whole box. It just made me nauseous. When I learned which kind to get, I had better luck, although it took an hour and a half for it to kick in. I haven’t tried many other hallucinogenic drugs, so it’s hard for me to compare DXM to one of them, but I at least know that’s what category it is in. I’ve heard that it’s equivalent to PCP. As the drug started to take effect, I had to lie down. It was like a very dirty “trip.” I became disoriented. I felt disconnected from my body. I couldn’t tell how big my legs were or what I was touching. I tired to look at my pupils in the mirror, but it was very hard, because I couldn’t stop myself from shaking. I think what I saw was that my right pupil was dilated to almost the size of my iris and my left pupil was normal. To this day, my right pupil is larger. There was no way I could be around people and pretend to be sober. I was shaking, I couldn’t hold myself up straight, and I was seeing things I knew weren’t there. So I spent most of my time on DXM in bed talking on the phone to people I knew from the internet who were also high on cold medicine. We thought we were the most philosophical people on earth. I don’t remember any of our conversations though. Soon enough, I gave up on doing any other drugs, because Coricidin was so accessible and inexpensive. Soon enough, I used CCC on a daily basis. The effect from taking a whole box (I never even bothered to try less) lasts about 16 hours. I would take a box at about 7 pm, be high for a while, go to sleep, and then still feel the effects when I woke up. By the time I got to school, I still felt a little high, but I was in enough control of myself to function. It was a cheaper addiction than cigarettes. After a couple months, though, 16 pills weren’t having the same effect, so I
started taking a box and a half each time. But it still wasn’t working. And then
it started making me feel sick 30 minutes after taking the pills. I had to work
really hard not to throw them up and waste them. I also didn’t have an excuse to
go back and buy more after I got home. So there were nights when I was up all
night because I had thrown up my Coricidin. The whole time I had been taking
CCC, I felt dirty. The high was dirty, though I don’t know how to explain that.
I felt pathetic that I wasn’t even doing real drugs. These feelings were
intensified while intoxicated toward the end on my days of using DXM. I could
feel it killing my brain cells. At first, I thought I was so intelligent and
philosophical when intoxicated, but at the end, I really physically felt it
hurting my brain. Even 24 hours after taking the pills, I felt their effect on
my coordination and perception of my surroundings, and it was becoming more
difficult to function. I wasn’t able to do my schoolwork or concentrate on
anything. I wasn’t even going online much anymore, because I couldn’t see the
screen clearly. I couldn’t play guitar or watch TV. My whole world was messed
up. It was easy to hide but not easy to ignore. It was then that I decided to stop. I didn’t physically withdraw from DXM, but I found my life to be boring and depressing without it. To alleviate this, I smoked a lot of weed. I suppose that isn’t the best strategy, but I certainly wasn’t ready at the time to quit drugs altogether. To this day, the thought of taking any pills coated in sucrose (like CCC) makes me gag. I don’t take any cough suppressants with DXM, because I’m afraid it will make me puke. I am disgusted by my whole experience and ashamed of myself. If anyone asked me about DXM as if they were interested in trying it, I would tell them they’d be better off using crack or heroin. I still talk to one of the online friends that I had done DXM with. He is
still doing it. He can’t take CCC anymore without vomiting, though, so instead
he drinks Robotussin. It has about the same effect but less intense, because
it’s hard to drink as much cough syrup as it takes. He does it on an almost
daily basis. He has marijuana and alcohol available to him, but he’s chosen DXM
over them. I don’t know how he still does it. It’s been years. I’ve also
witnessed his intelligence drop over the years. Right now, I haven’t heard from
him in almost three months. Our story with drugs started about ten years ago when our oldest son, Michael was about 15 years old. He was able to get drugs at our church and his Christian school. He later told me he was curious, just wanted to 'try' it. Well, he liked it. We were totally unaware of this for several years. On his eighteenth birthday seven years ago we had come to a place of feeling forced to have him choose between drugs and not living at home or living without drugs and staying at home. He chose to leave and not give up drugs. We have younger children and how this impacted them we will never know completely. But it has had an impact as they all looked up to their big brother. He was a wonderful son and brother before drugs. Personally, as Michael's mother, I struggled with years of thoughts of suicide. I felt certain I must have done something wrong, failed in some way, that my son would get caught up in this lifestyle. Because Michael's drug use affected me so much, that in turn caused a greater impact on our younger kids. His decision to choose drugs began his years of homelessness, jail time, uncertainty, different treatment centers, and mooching off of 'friends'. It also began years of tears, blame, shame, and pain. Many unpleasant and awful things happened. One time Michael broke in our house and took two (2) of our cars! We eventually had to get an Order of Protection to protect our home and younger children from Michael. Such a very sad time. So many tears and prayers. Michael's drug use also impacted our extended family. My mom, 78 at the time, Michael's grandmother, thought she could help, though we advised her against taking him in. She had opened her home to two other (older) grandsons who needed help and she didn't see the difference. As I said, we strongly discouraged her from doing this. This decision almost caused a split in our extended family. At first Michael was nice and helpful, but he started intimidating my mom and occasionally took her car without permission. The final straw was one day my mom was giving Michael a ride to check out a job. He came back to the car, opened her door and started to pull her out! She begged him to stop! She thought he was going to break her back. She got out and he took her car and left her there 15 miles from her home. After finding a phone, calling me, and meeting with a counselor that afternoon, my mom went to the court house and got an Order of Protection. Those were such dark, sad days. I wonder if I was really there for my other kids. I don't know how I could have been. I was so sad, so brokenhearted. Just recently after 14 months of being clean and sober, Michael started meeting up with old 'friends' and drinking again. I feel waves of tears and sadness wash over me at times. He is almost 25 now. I wonder if I will live to see him walk in victory over these addictions. He doesn't really care about anything it seems. I walk around in such heartache, such pain. Thank you for wanting to read my/our story. My Grandson, Justin – by Margaret Orr Booth Friday, November 26, 2004 My grandson, Justin, is a Heroin addict. These words are the most It has robbed him of his youth. Inflicted him with terrible pain and I have watched my beautiful daughter, his Mother, suffering, being In search of this cause, she started Hearts of Hope, the Mom Squad, Heroin is like a pebble thrown into the stream of life, sending out My prayers are constant for Justin, his parents, all who are victims I pray our Government will fight this awful drug problem at it's Justin's loving grandmother WALKING ON EGGSHELLS Sat on that wall, not knowing that this was wholeness Still on that wall, feeling kind of rumbled but eggs always get put Back together when they are ready. Right? Guess I'm alone here on the wall. Maybe there's trouble? Stay on the wall, above it all. Stay on the wall and cry. Get off the wall. We're down here. So what if you crack? Splat. There at the bottom of the wall. Somebody should sweep up the sticky
stuff. I'm up on the other wall now with the Lord, the prayerful moms and the hope. Not too high. It's a long fall with this cracked shell and mending heart. I know He's there, greater that the Kings horses and men. JKAZ November 26, 2004 ACID TEARS My heart aches for you to come back to me Acid tears that’s all I have, my face and soul burn from the pain I want you to change, for the better Acid tears that’s all I have, there is emptiness from the pain You keep doing the same thing Acid tears that’s all I have, I am distorted from the pain Please seek help and change Acid tears that’s all I have, our lives are shattered from the pain We all love you Acid tears that’s all I have, please seek help We have to look forward Acid tears that’s all I have, I love you It’s not about the money Acid tears that’s all I have, life is precious The pain is like a cancer Acid tears that’s all I have, I love you THE BEAST My son is a heroin addict and I am tortured everyday by this fact. The signs of isolation were there in the past but I didn’t see them. I assumed most the events the occurred were teen anxiety. He spoke of things that were clues to his unhappiness but I didn’t hear them. I was sure that this would pass, as all teen problems do with time. His behavior became irate, which I assume to be the trials of a boy becoming a man. As everyday passed I long for his youthful days of innocence, when life was less complicated. I have acknowledged the fact that my son now relies on drugs to help him feel alive; the only problem is that the drugs now possess him. They are his only family and friends. Heroin now demands his attention, love, and friendship. Long gone are the days of seizing the moment for it’s natural beauty and calm. The sunrise is not quite as beautiful because of its heroin haze. I thought that this was his problem, as it was his choice to use. Just as a pebble in a pond produces far reaching ripples, so has my son’s addiction. It has changed our lives dramatically, with no section untouched. Gone are the days of a parents hopes and dreams for our son’s future. There may be no future for a life of lying, stealing, and craving. “The beast” as I have chosen to call his addiction has clutched my son, not wanting to release him. It pains me to see others who may start a relationship with this beast, for the innocent will never fully realize it’s consuming relationship until it’s too late. Most parents want their children to attain a passion for life, learning, and a wonderful future, not aware that their child flirts with the beast and may never be able to walk away. It’s a possessive relationship, which the beast will win till the end. No amount of love, caring, or conversation can separate the beast from its newfound friend. The beast will take the place of all ethical and moral teachings the parents have bestowed on their child. The beast does not know understanding, compassion, love, or caring. The beast possesses a raw obsessive demand on the addict, never letting go unless the addict allows it. Makes the choice to walk away. The beast chooses to suck the life out of the addict and all the lives that touch the addict never looking back. Just senseless black destruction is left in its path. The family is the pond, which has no control of the pebbles or rocks that the beast chooses to throw in the pond. The family becomes broken, shattered, and disorientated. The ripples become waves of pain and there seems to be no calm in the future. The beast has no compassion, love, and feeds on confusion and demands. The beast will never be happy nor will it allow its addict to be happy without it. The cycle continues to produce chaos and confusion to all that it touches, never resting until the addict decides to control it. But the addict does not realize that the beast is in control until it’s too late. The cycle of the relationship continues, with no real reason for the relationship. There is no future in this relationship. Neither the beast nor the addict wants the relationship to end, unless one dies. The beast will never die because of its appeal and form, which cannot be fully defined. The beast is similar to a cancer the doctors cannot control. Spreading further into the addict’s soul, leaving only the remnants of destruction. The beast is not attracted to everyone, he preys on the lost, sad, and those on the cross roads in life. He flirts with potential addicts and promises feelings of warmth, kindness, and tenderness. What he gives is a life of dark demanding possession. The beast has major power over those who may discount his worthiness. He turns the addict against those who hates him. The beast will not tolerate the unfaithful addict, he will become more demanding and negate anyone or thing that stands in his way. The Beast has my son. I am tortured by this fact everyday of my life. I try to find peace in life’s beauties, but I feel his dark presence everywhere. I try to ignore the relationship he has with my son but all the sunrises in my life cannot lighten his darkness. The beast has misdirected my family. I try to express the beauty of life, but the beast will not allow my words to be heard. This cancer, the beast has spread to every corner of my life and just as he has a hold on my son, his shadow creeps into every aspect of our lives. All that was good now is been overshadowed by the darkness. None of us look at life the same, the joy and happiness has been replaced by darkness and despair. As much as I want to end the beast’s relationship with my son, I know that I have no power or control over him. The only one that can stop the beast is my son. I fear that he does not have the strength to end this dark relationship. As a parent I have always wanted to protect my children and let them grown up to protect themselves. It pains me to see my son so hopelessly lost in this relationship with the beast. I want to fight it, to kill it, and attempt to pick up the pieces of our lives. The pieces are skewed and will never fit the same; the beast has touched us all. I pray for the lightness to touch my son again. Addendum: I originally wrote this when my son had no intention of recovery, his is now in recovery and there appears to be some hope that his relationship with the Beast may end. I pray that this is the first day of a new life for my son. One day at a time. k D.A.R.E By: Gianna Rizza When I see relatives that haven’t seen me in a while, they always say the
same thing, “WOW, have you grown.” Then they usually ask me the question, “So
Gianna, tell us, what do you want to be when you grow up?” . At that moment, I
always think to myself, I’m only a kid, why the heck do they always ask me that
question?! Then I usually just look at them and say “I’m not sure yet.” By the
expression on their faces, it seems as though they look so disappointed. Well,
the holidays are right around the corner, and there is no doubt in my mind, that
the big question about my future hopes and dreams will probably come up again.
And I’ll confess to you, that I still have no idea how I want to spend my
future. But now, thanks to Deputy Roberts, and the DARE program, I know what I
DON’T want to be when I grow up . . . Hi Lea, I am the sister of a heroin addict. Being the oldest of four girls, I have
always been the one who felt responsible for my younger sisters. Especially
because my mother was not emotionally present at all times, and my father was
not physically present at any time. My youngest sister, lets call her “Bella,”
because that was my name for her when she was a baby, is the most intelligent
twenty-two year old I have ever met. But you see, heroin doesn’t care about IQ.
It also doesn’t care about anyone that it comes to kill, steal and destroy. It
is not from Heaven. It is from Hell. How Drug Addition Has Affected My Life. I do not know where to begin. It has affected our family in so many different ways. I guess in some ways it has help our family to become the people we are today. You could say it turned my world upside down and inside out. It ripped my
heart out, I became numb, and I cried a lot. I felt very alone and frustrated.
Nothing was the same any more, merry went out of Christmas, and happy went out
of birthdays and so on. He had managed to ruin every holiday and every special
occasion in my life. He even managed to ruin the day my mother died and was
buried. I was afraid of him sometimes because I did not know what he would do.
We slept with something in front of our bedroom door because we did not trust
him. At times I really did not care about much. Sometimes I would feel that I
did not want to even see him or talk to him and yet when he did not come home I
cried and watched out the window hoping he would come home safely. I could not
understand his thought process. At first I would blame myself for the things he
did. I was very frustrated with the choices he made. I don't know to this day if
he understands the pain and anger he put us through, he says he does but does
he? It's not that he's a bad person; he just seems to make bad choices and never
thought about the consequences or how it would affect him or us, his family. It's very difficult to watch your child destroy their life. I was thankful to find a support group that understood what I was feeling and listened to me and never made judgment. They gave me the strength to be who I am today. They helped me learn, understand and grow. I am a different person today than I was 8 years ago when all this started. Sincerely, WORDS THAT DESCRIBE LIFE WITH AN ADDICT: Horrified fear pain despair Discouraged disappointed shame Embarrassed angst shocked Guilt heart-wrenching confused Anger lost dreams alone But also: HOPE JOY FAITH PEACE DETERMINED GRATEFUL VIGILENT STRONG
"I'll Always Remember" - by Marianne I’ll always remember the first time I heard the word HEROIN. My son was arrested for possession and we had no idea. He was only 18 years old. From then on our lives were torn to pieces. We watched our son turn into a monster as the drive for the drug drove him to steal and lie –he acquired felony after felony and instead of keeping him, the criminal justice system failed time after time. They would release him to go out and use again only to earn yet more felony counts against him and allowing his addiction to continue to have a death grip on him.
There was no aspect of our life that was not affected. It was like living through a death every day. It really is a war, and as a parent nothing prepares you for this. My son is 24 years old now and he has not used HEROIN for 3 years. We feel very blessed. Others have not been so fortunate. We continue to pray for all the families touched by this miserable affliction.
Marianne – A founding member of Hearts of Hope /”The MOM Squad”
"I'll Always Remember" - A Father's Story My son is a heroin addict. He is doing very well in his recovery the past 30 months, but I’ll always remember the afternoon that I discovered his hypodermic needles. There had been plenty of signs that things weren’t what they should be in his life, but I had rationalized all of those. I was in denial and doing the best I could, giving him every benefit of all doubts I had. I felt guilty about his mother’s mental illness problem that led to our divorce. I knew that all of that trauma had to have some affect on him, although he amazed me with what seemed to be an ability to control his emotions. He put on the best face possible and I learned much later that it was due to the drugs. He had always been a top of the class student and it seemed to come easy to him. When he started to have problems at school I met with teachers, staff, and administration and I told them what we had been going through at home. It was the perfect explanation and we didn’t really dig any deeper. We all wanted to believe it.
Things gradually deteriorated from there and his drug abuse just got worse as he attempted to numb out of the depression he felt. I finally got the feeling that something was horribly wrong a few months later when he announced to me that he wasn’t going to play baseball in the spring of his junior year of high school. You see, baseball had always provided a great bonding format for us and he was always a star player. He loved the game and especially when he was on the mound pitching. A year earlier in a Fourth of July tournament he had pitched a perfect game. On the Father’s Day weekend before that he wowed the crowd with a big home run. I had suggested that would be a great Father’s Day gift on the way to the game that day and he left the batter’s box pointing to me in the dugout saying; “Happy Father’s Day”.
On day the police came to his school and pulled him out of class, he thought he was finally busted; but they had come to tell him his mother had been in a serious car accident and they would take him home. He felt overwhelmed with emotions and sort of in shock. Although I work from home and the school knew that, I got the news from him as he came into the house. The next couple of days were traumatic and we stood by her hospital bed as the Priest read her Last Rights. Later that evening he was picked up by the local police who found him drunk in a nearby park. When he called me from jail I just wanted to cry. Of course, I went to bail him out.
After finding the needles I knew I had to take some serious action. First, when he came home I suggested we go out for a burger together and he was glad to go. We had barely been seated when I leaned across the table and calmly said; “I found your needles and I want to help you with your problem.” You could see the relief come across his face and he took his head in his hands trying to suppress the tears. He couldn’t speak right away, but when he did there were no denials, no lies, and no excuses. I knew he both needed and wanted help. I assured him we would get through this together.
I started to research drug abuse, treatment, rehab, and heroin on the internet. I learned about a new drug court program and finally connected with Lea who ran a support group for families of addiction. I’m really not a support group kind of guy, but this was different. From that call forward to this day an alliance developed. Most importantly there was a clear plan of action to take. I learned how to best help my son and although it was not going to be easy, I wasn’t going to have to do it completely alone.
I had to arrange to get my son arrested and accepted into the drug court program. There he would get treatment and have a structure from which to build his own recovery. I never got to really implement the first step because he was picked up by the local police and charged with felony possession that next night. This time I didn’t go bail him out. I felt relieved instead, but the process had just begun and the next couple of years were like an emotional roller coaster running the rehab/relapse loop-de-loop. He would find himself back on the streets of Chicago and back in jail again. He would successfully complete a 90 day rehab program and within a few short months he would flee to Mexico. I thought I might never see him again. But I did, about seven months later when he turned up back in Chicago and contacted me to let me know he wanted to find a medical detox program and could I help. Of course I knew what I had to do. With Lea’s help I tricked him into going to an area hospital and arranged with the police to have him arrested there. It took about three days of trying to track him down and get him to follow instructions and I barely slept a wink, prayed constantly, and cried a lot. I never felt so desperate knowing how his life was hanging in the balance. I know how desperate he felt also as he talked to me from his cell phone as the police officers approached him outside the emergency room. I told him it was the best I could do and I was sorry. He said in a sigh of relief it was OK. I said; “I love you”. The judge let him sit in jail 8 weeks, through the holidays, before putting him back in the program. Barely a week or two later they threw him back in jail claiming a suspected “dirty drop”. A week later the test results proved he was clean. He was released into the custody of a mentor family who knew him and offered to help in this way. He has been clean and free ever since then, and he’s rebuilding his life. I still worry, just not as much.
I have become an active member of Lea’s organization. I speak to groups in the area about the drug problem our children face and the need to educate ourselves. I want people to understand that fighting the war on drugs is up to each and every parent. All of our children are vulnerable every day. The government isn’t able to stop the supply from coming to our streets and neighborhoods. It’s only our awareness and our action that may save our children from falling victim when they’re confronted with the opportunity to join the fun and try some of the stuff being offered by one of their best friend’s friends.
This week the papers reported the death of another young man who used heroin with my son. We knew him and we grieve for his family. I feel very fortunate that my son is alive today. He beat some horrible odds. It took many dedicated people to make that possible. I will always remember them in my prayers.
"I'll Always Remember" - by Kathy I’ll always remember, when my long time friend from high school and her fiancé were trying to get us together. After standing up in their wedding together about a year later we did meet again. I was 26 Chris was 27 and we were both on the scared side of the whole idea of starting a relationship. Well after about 6 months we realized that we were a real good fit. I was the concerned, lovable, fun, kind of person whom Chris could feel good and comfortable to be around. Chris was a fun loving guy nothing seemed to bother him. He had a lot of friends and that was a good sign. I needed to know he could keep a friendship, that would be a tell tale that he valued relationships. He seemed real motivated in his sales job and also really enjoyed outdoors, very active. The first six months we went skiing and camping and would spend a lot of times outdoors. It was great. He told me he practically grew up on skis and in college was part of the mountain rescue team. They actually looked for bodies that had been stranded in the mountains. That astounded me. He had a great heart to do that, what courage I thought. I also loved the adventure he had for life. After while a lot of our dating was meeting after he would get out of work at 9:00, either going a bar and once in a great while, we’d go to a movie or dinner. About 6-8 months into it we realized we weren’t getting any younger and as Chris put it, “I want to be able to throw the football around with my son some day I don’t want to wait too long to get married, I’d like to be married by 30 so that I could have a family.” We both agreed with this. I may have had some reservations about marriage but probably less than a year after that statement we were married. From here we grew to know and love each other a real lot. We were married on the weekend of Mother’s day, somewhat in remembrance of his deceased mother, who had died of cancer when he was a young boy. In a way I believe there was emptiness about Chris that had not been replaced since his mom died. Maybe in some certain weird way I thought I could fill that void by loving him. After a horrible miscarriage just into the marriage, we decided to try again. After six months of marriage we were pregnant. Our baby was going to be born in August. We were very excited 1st time parents, taking Lamaze and all that other good stuff. It seemed to be exactly what we both always wanted. We could not wait for this day to come and have a healthy baby. Chris was so excited about being a father, about two days after our daughter was born he had stopped back at hospital to see if he was burping the baby correctly, he told the nurse to show him on his shoulder how hard to burp. Chris was very good at helping with his daughter and our two different work schedules. He would watch her in the morning sometimes riding the bike to the babysitters with her in the trailer stroller behind. This was working and everyone was happy for a while. There was a new adjustment in our relationship, I was a new mom and hadn’t been drinking for a while, and Chris hadn’t changed. We would stay in on the weekend rent a movie and the choices were,”Do you want beer or wine?” This is when I honestly started looking at the amount that was consumed and hoped that it would slow down when we had our family. At least that’s what I always had hoped would happen. This is when my denial started to break. Well when he refused to stop drinking while I was pregnant I thought maybe I had been hard on him. But then when we stopped going to friend functions and began to live only in our living room from Friday till Monday, I began to worry. The excuse was always the kid, “can’t get a babysitter or I don’t want to go out with them, and I don’t really like those people.” I was disappointed frustrated, and didn’t know how I could change things. Little did I know he was isolating. If anyone knows me, I can’t go a day without a telephone or someone to see. I did not think things were normal anymore and definitely did not want to get in a rut of sitting at home and not going anywhere. Good thing I was still working because that is where I had a social life. Some time went by and we were expecting our second child, I don’t think Chris was quite ready. I think it was my way of making the family seem normal. “We have to have more than one child, after all I had six siblings.” Chris immediately went into panic mode of having two kids. Could he still provide? He started talking about how much daycare was and we could not afford me to work out of the home. It was fine for me I would love to stay home, but did we really have a plan, no. This seemed to play a big roll in our communication break down. He was the one who knew all about the finances. So a month after our second was born I quit work just long enough to get the insurance to pay for all of the medical bills. Shortly after our second daughter was born, my dad died. It was a terrible time for us. It was especially hard for Chris this being the only father he had ever known. His father abandoned him when he was too little to even remember him. So I think back to those times and I was really hurting, it was my dad who died and there was so much hurt in Chris he could not be there for me at all. This is the time I started to name it a depression for Chris. He had no coping skills. Not for the one income and not for all of the loss that had taken place in his life. Now his way to numb the pain was to drink. It had become daily and it wasn’t just the two I watched him drink before I went to bed. Sometimes he would just get drunk and cry to me about all of the pain he felt when his mother died. Through those not so coherent conversations, I learned his mom was a drinker, too. Again, I thought that he could be my emotional provider but that‘s not what was happening. He would be drinking up to ten beers a night and I would be counting in the recycle bin in the morning and yelling about it. After all I needed him. And boy was I needy. Well when I got help, Chris told everyone that I was having a hard time after losing my dad. The truth was I lost my dad and my husband, a husband I could rely on for things like changing a diaper or going to the grocery store or just plain taking me out once in a while and talking like we used to. Everything was blamed on these poor kids who were, by the way, the miracle that kept me going through all of the lost dreams I had had of a family. When he got home there would already be cans in the recycle bin even though it was emptied that morning. Chris would just simply say they were left in there from before or that they didn’t get them all out. “Yeah right”, I’d say. Day after day with the two young kids and being angry all the time, I left Chris just up and went and stayed at a hotel for three days, without him knowing my whereabouts. I sought a trained professional in the field of alcohol; the counselor was certain this would give him a wake up call. Well Chris didn’t try to find me he was busy getting drunk at home alone. It was probably easier to feed his addiction with no interruption. I tried controlling his actions, I didn’t stay gone for too long I had to see how he was without us so I went back. The typical co-dependent behavior I had learned. The counselor‘s advice didn’t help. I couldn’t figure out how to stop him from his irresponsibility, so I thought maybe someone else would have an idea. I went into Al-a-Non meetings to find solutions to his problems and they kept telling me to focus on my own controlling issues. What a lesson that was for me. I couldn’t believe his bosses never suspected a problem he never gave any indication that he was suffering about any life issues. He kept everything stuffed down inside so that people would think he was happy. He was never late on the job or absent. It was a double life he led, having everyone at work think he was such a family man, yet we never saw him sober. As long as the two parties never collided, he would be ok with this deceit. That is also why I never went to a work party in all the years we were together. I learned that meddling in his professional life wouldn’t really help matters for us, but I always hoped someone at work would find out. On the off- season in his business he would collect unemployment just to stay not working at night. He once told me that he couldn’t do both (family and work). Imagine hearing that from your husband that he couldn’t do both. I thought about getting a part-time job during his unemployment but I realized my paycheck would be for his booze. So I didn’t do it. He needed to have enough money to pay bills and support his alcohol so he took on a part-time job delivering pizzas. He never drank before his shift. He made certain that he’d never deliver after 6:00 P.M on the weekends. Well anyone knows that it doesn’t even get busy until that time. He would get paid cash and use it for bringing home his beer. A few hours later he would be passed out on the couch. This would continue as a pattern every night. My kids would be going to bed with daddy asleep on the couch. Sometimes they would bring him a blanket, or think he was sick. The truth was he was sick and so was I. I would agree with the kids that he was sick and I also taught them that he loved them even if he didn’t talk nice or act nice. We continued to pray that something would grab hold of him and he would seek sobriety. I thought that he would want it better for his kids. I knew Chris’s intentions were not bad, I don’t think he had enough faith in himself to believe that he could change. Chris would work days, and he would be in the hot sun and long hours no brakes, and hardly eating. He saw a doctor for a leg injury and found out he had high blood pressure. He convinced his doctors that he wasn’t a drinker. I wanted to contact the doctor and tell him everything but I always second guessed myself, thinking that would be wrong. I’m not convinced that was the way to go, but that’s what I did. I kept plugging along with Al-A-Non meetings, waiting for his bottom to hit meanwhile trying to raise the kids with him so ill. It was hard to stay with him he isolated so much from both friends and family. The last Thanksgiving dinner he made was for him alone. My next plan was to get a job, move out and support myself with two young kids. It was my last choice. I did get a job and went back fulltime. Chris was terribly threatened with my new independence. It got to the point that he told me he would pay me all the money if I moved out and then he could keep the house. He knew we had a failed marriage and he said he’d move and stay with a friend in Colorado, I wished he would have done that. Chris got in the car on April 29, a couple hours after his shift, onto the start of his nightly drinking binge, to go and return a video. On the way home about 6:00 P.M. he veered off the road and into someone’s driveway, almost hitting a three year old boy playing catch with his dad. WHAT A WAKE UP CALL THAT WAS!!! That same night the police came and took my husband to jail for a DUI without seeing him drive. Because these neighbors were so ticked off at him and because I answered yes to every one of their questions, he was arrested. I had been learning that I was not to interrupt or rescue someone out of a crisis. I did not bail him out of jail, as he sat at the station the police said he kept denying he was the driver of the car, he continued to give excuse after excuse even saying that he had a heart condition, and needed his medicine at home. They even called in paramedics because he was faking heart trouble. The medics took all his vitals and found nothing wrong even his blood pressure was normal. Ironically they said, “Call us when you really need us!” It took him 4 hours to sign the arrest papers. He also refused to get a Breathalyzer. This was, to my knowledge his third DUI offense. His denial was breaking hard. Mine had broken long before this. I knew that everything would not resume as “normal” from this day forward things would have to change for him, and I was hopeful. To be honest I had been praying for a DUI for probably 2 years. I asked if we could get him into a rehab while talking to the arresting officer, I told him he was a daily drinker and needed help. The police said they couldn’t sign him into a hospital and I should start with his medical doctor. They also told me that if he would have hit that boy on the driveway, “Life as he knows it would change forever.” Guess what, it did anyway for all of us Chris didn’t end up serving time or getting into a drug court or skipping town or losing his job. Chris got out of jail that night after signing his own release and stayed at a motel. The next day I got up, I went to work, when I got home, approximately 60 seconds after walking in the kitchen door, Chris took his hunting rifle and shot himself in the temple. He could no longer suffer this grave disease that in the end robs your life. His job was gone, his license, his dignity. He chose to take his life and end it. Was it something that could have been prevented (who knows), but this I know, Chris was in utter despair. Which came first I don’t know the depression or the alcohol addiction, but instead of fighting to treat his mental illness and addiction he put an end to what could have been a wonderful life. We (the family members) know it’s not easy to survive an addiction that throttles your every waking moment. This I do know instead of checking in, he checked out. I can’t speak for the addict, I don’t know how much he suffered inside, and I wasn’t on the inside I was on the outside. I hoped, prayed, pleaded, argued, punished, and then I surrendered. These are my words about how a loved one changed my dreams of a wonderful life together. - Kathy, August 2006
I am director of a non profit organization called Hearts of Hope /”The MOM Squad”. We are an educational and advocacy group and our mission is to restore hope to our children by providing them with Drug Free Communities through education, prevention, support and advocacy. I am also the mother of a recovering heroin addict. Justin is my only child and when he was just a baby his Dad and I split up so I pretty much raised him on my own. Even though I was a single Mom I was fortunate enough to be a stay-at-home mother during most of his formative years. I was cognitive of the fact that Justin carried hurt feelings about his Dad not participating much in his life and I would try to reassure my sweet and sensitive child by reinforcing that his Daddy loved him very much but was just a busy man. Children though take these “grown up” issues and internalize them. Even though Justin did not articulate it very well I could sense that he blamed himself for the break-up, thinking he was maybe not worthy enough or lovable enough and that is why his Dad paid him little attention. Children desperately need their fathers and when these men are not available there is a father hunger that follows them all the days of their lives unless healing and reconciliation take place. My son is still trying to earn his father’s love and admiration although I am grateful to write that their relationship is quite close now. When Justin was young I tried to be both Mother and Father. I had no problem putting a worm on a fishing line or playing ball with him in the backyard. And I was no weakling either in giving him rules and structure - as he grew older I imposed curfews that he abided by. I made sure I knew all his friends. Yes I was probably overprotective and more indulgent than I should have been at times. Still like all parents, I took my role very seriously wanting to grow up a fine upstanding young man. We lived in downtown Chicago then and Justin went to a small private school, it happened to be the year of the “Justins”. There were several in his classroom and to differentiate him from the others his teachers would refer to him as “Good Justin.” And he was good, an easy going child with a sunny disposition. I was very involved in all aspects of his life, PTO president, on the school board, Soccer Mom, Cub Scout Mom, etc. We went to Church on Sundays and said our prayers at night and so it went. I loved being a Mother. When Justin turned 9 I decided to move back to St. Charles, I had been raised here and had an idealist childhood coming from a large closely knit family with wonderful parents. I wanted to offer my son the same fine upbringing I had. And he seemed to thrive. I went back to work when Justin was around 14 years old. Now I won’t beat myself up for that because it was a financial necessity. I cringe when I reflect on the fact that from 2:30 until 6:00 p.m. he was by himself. He must have been lonely…and bored left to his own devices? It is rather ironic that just when our kids hit such fragile and vulnerable ages as teens we tend to think it is safe to go back to work. And again I am not tossing out any guilt for most of us have no other option. Around this time I did notice a change in him, good Justin became Sullen Justin, if not downright Surly Justin. I was concerned. He never was a behavioral problem at school but was starting to be lippy and disrespectful to me. Soon enough his grades started to drop. I would sit around a large conference table with his teachers and counselors trying to figure out his lack of motivation. Once I said to them, “Do you think he could be using Pot or something like that?” In unison they all said, “NO, not good Justin. He has discovered girls and is socializing too much, it is normal…he is a teenager”! I felt meagerly consoled wanting desperately to trust their “educated and wise” input. Well his grades never improved and I had this terrible uneasy feeling…a sense of foreboding. Something was wrong…terribly wrong. And God gives us that intuition as a gift so when you feel something is amiss with your kid I will not say it probably is; I say, it is! Please act on this gut instinct and investigate further. In my way I did, boldly seeking outside the school district for assistance. I got Justin a therapist that he saw weekly to address the grades and the mood swings. Justin and I had always been extremely close but we were arguing a lot now and there was much screaming and yelling going on in my house. Frankly it was a House of Horrors and I was beside myself with feeling powerless, distraught and hopeless. My world was crumbling as I knew it. But at this time I still did not fully “get it”…still in denial and unbelief. When he was 16 he threatened suicide. By nightfall I had Justin in a Psychiatric Hospital…touted as being one of the top ten in the country. He was there 10 days where he had tons of evaluations, assessments, psychological and personality tests done. Through the mire of paperwork I came across this…“Patient states he has experimented with drugs…alcohol, pot, acid, PCP, ecstasy, cocaine.” I was shocked, how could I have been so stupid? I spoke to the shrink about it and he said that Justin was not dependent on any of these drugs but had just tried them on occasion. The root problem was not substance abuse but major depression and he had been trying to self mediate. The doctors put him on antidepressants. Years later Justin revealed to me that while he was at this hospital his friends from home were allowed to visit and every night they brought in heroin that he would shoot up in the bathroom. All those doctors that counseled him never noticed. And all those expensive, in depth evaluations done on him were done under the influence of heroin. I went to family meetings while he was there and saw all these good looking kids who were in the hospital with him. Their parents, like me were in anguish; concerned and confused as to how to help their precious children. I noticed the boys were all either having truancy issues, behavioral problems, or even trouble with the law and the girls were cutters, bulimics and anorexics. The girls took their pain out on themselves and the boys on the rest of the world. I was horrified and wondered what was going wrong…why so many youngsters in such pain? Now Justin was seeing a Therapist, Shrink and Family Counselor on a weekly basis. Soon we had our first encounter with the police. Justin got arrested for breaking into a car. What did I do? I got a lawyer. See I could not imagine my son going to jail…why he might be raped or beaten up or learn bad things. We were not like “those people” and the notion of jail was a foreign concept to me…I have since changed my mind on that. Justin was put on Probation and had to wear an ankle bracelet. Well everything just started to crumble in short order. I came home from work and went to put the T.V. on and it wasn’t there. Jewelry disappeared, Credit cards and checks too. I never considered calling the police on him for stealing from me then either, it was a family problem. I was desperate and tapped my phone lines and listened to conversations that Justin had with friends (and I recognized all their voices, great kids from wonderful families). I discovered they were all going into the City to buy heroin. The sky was falling, I became dizzy and my knees buckled out from under me. It felt as if someone had stabbed me in the heart. My son and all those young friends of his who were using heroin were the first batch that the police reported ever seeing in this area. But the epidemic came quickly to our sleepy little town with a vengeance and many more fell under its wicked spell. St. Charles became Ground Zero for the Heroin Outbreak. Many of those friends are dead now from overdoses.
The next morning though Justin could not keep his promise. I alerted his Therapist, Shrink and Probation officer as to what I had found out about the heroin. His Probation Officer said, “Lady I will pretend like this conversation never occurred, he is on an ankle bracelet and will adhere to the rules“. Justin saw his Probation Officer on a monthly basis and they never gave him a Drug Test. The shrink simply upped his meds. This was the help I received for our catastrophic crisis. When addiction strikes, the whole family becomes diseased…and I was as sick as Justin. In desperation I tried to fix and rescue and control. Sometimes in a rage Justin would punch a hole in the wall. Methodically I would get out the spackle, repair that wall, sand it down, repaint and hang the picture back up. Then in my distorted thinking would feel better, a coping device; saying to myself with a sense of a paltry accomplishment, “Good, it is mended”. Somehow it almost was a magical feeling like I mended the whole dismal mess through this action. My dysfunctional way of controlling a very out of control situation. Denial is part of the illness and probably the one symptom that is most dangerous for all concerned. And parents are not the only ones that can fall into this deadly trap. Whole communities can - schools boards, public officials, the medical community and even our churches can. Exposing the truth and educating others are the only way to overcome this awful plight. I used to sleep with my wallet under my pillow and my car keys in my underwear. I took my purse with me when I went to the bathroom and carried the land line phones with me to work. It was a nightmarish way to live and I was in absolute despair. The only thing that kept me semi sane was my faith. I poured through God’s Word and stayed on my knees through that dreadful bleak time. Justin went out one night and never came home, he overdosed and almost died…one of 5 life threatening overdoses he has since had. After picking him up from the ER that first time the doctor’s only recommendation was for Justin to go to an AA Meeting. Instead I put him in In-Patient Treatment at an Adolescent Center in MN. From that first Treatment Center his Dad and I spent 100’s of 1000’s of dollars trying to save this kid’s life with more Rehabs…22 in all across this nation. And still he continued to spiral down in his addiction. Finally I got strong and pressed charges against my son after he stole from me again. Later he stood before a Judge and got accepted into Drug Court. He was taken off to jail and frankly I never slept so sound. He was safe and could not get a hold of any drugs. I do believe if not for this Program my son would be dead by now. I am not going to tell you Justin was a model Drug Court participant and even within the System he has relapsed - relapse is part of recovery. But I am happy to report that Justin has been clean and sober for almost a year. The combination of enforcement and treatment makes for successful and positive outcomes. It takes a team to come along side these recovering addicts and parents play such a vital role in this for who knows their kids better? Dialogue and communication between us all is what will break the cycle of addiction. And I might add that we need to listen to the addicts themselves. They are a storehouse of knowledge regarding their disease and more than willing to share it if we ask. We can learn plenty from them. Throughout this disaster I began going to a Support Group where I met other parents just like me. We bonded in a profound way and through that got healthier and stronger leaning on and supporting each other in our various trials. We formed a prayer group to pray the Prodigals home. Soon Hearts of Hope evolved from that fellowship and we established business meetings knowing that in the midst of this epidemic we could not remain silent any longer. Now we have a Web Site, a Newsletter and we speak out about this plight that is trying to take down our children. My story is about heroin but certainly I include all the other drugs as well that are harming and disabling our children and their futures. This battle is huge and a God sized task and so we are appealing to all of you to step up. Be forewarned and educate yourselves on how drugs and alcohol can damage and destroy young people. These toxic chemicals are potent and lethal, especially when they flood a young and growing brain. This is not about “bad parenting” either and it is vital that we are clear on this. Because most of us are doing the best we can and pride ourselves on having good families we can be lulled into assuming that our kids are safe, blanketed in love and excellent rearing. “That happens to others, but not my kids.” This is dangerous thinking because it could be your precious ones. Don’t live in complacency. This national tragedy is prevalent and all our youngsters are at risk. I have had the privilege of working with hundreds of families through my work at Hearts of Hope and have met some of the most devoted, nurturing and attentive parents. Many are that classic example of the nuclear family everyone strives to emulate. Addiction strikes families of doctors, pastors, police chiefs, lawyers, single parent households, dual parent households; it shows no prejudice or any mercy. These are all our children and they are our responsibility to protect, they deserve nothing less. Together if we join forces standing in unity and stay committed we can overcome this evil attack and come out victorious with solid resolutions to this problem. It is possible to make a difference one life at a time. And we never give up hope. Lea Minalga, CADC
From a Hearts of Hope parent who has a son struggling with a crack cocaine addiction. Lea, Hi, well I did a really bad thing yesterday, well yesterday I thought it was ok, but the repercussions today are not good. I went to go find Mike and I did. The judge dropped the charges and let him go, I could really ring that judges neck. If I knew who it was I would go down there and talk to him myself and ask him why he let Mike go just to go back out onto the streets? I am soooooooooooooo angry about that. He never called me since 2 weeks ago and I really needed to know he was ok. Anyway I knew where he hangs around and I took 290 to Cicero and got off at Cicero and I was going to give myself an hour or so to find him. Well as I go off onto Cicero, I saw a kid begging for money who was walking pigeon toed and said to myself, that looks like Mike. Well he turned around and it was. My heart almost came out of my chest. It was like God, put him there on that corner on that day I was looking for him. God made it real easy for me to find him. I pulled up to him, stopped in the middle of the street and told him to get in the car. The people behind me must have been thinking , this lady just picked up a homeless kid, J Anyway he got in and he looked good considering, his face was drawn and he has lost weight, but he looked ok. Dirty and dingy, terrible shoes and socks he probably has had on for months, so I took him to payless and bought him some heavy shoes and socks, went to get something to eat and got him a hotel room for 2 nights. He said he’s just not ready to take on responsibility for himself to get over this. I so much wanted to bring him back with me but I knew I couldn’t force him. His smile was killing me. So I asked him if he wanted any jeans or gloves and he said no. He told me that weird as it is he has a little family right there. I asked him if he ever will turn this around and he said he hopes so. He is carrying in his jacket a phone number for counseling so hopefully he will go one day. It was so hard to leave him but I did. Today is a horrible day. I can’t stop crying. I am at work and probably will leave because it hurts so bad. I’m trying to keep it together but its so hard. I want to be strong but again very hard. I’m crying without realizing I’m crying. I should be happy that he is alive, but it hurts so bad to actually see him begging for money and sleeping in empty garages and L stations and trains. He said its just easier doing what he’s doing, I don’t get it. I told him I would bring him his birth certificate to get his ID or license so he could get a little job and he could stay at a half way house and get help but he wasn’t interested. Well I know I shouldn’t have bought him the boots and socks and the hotel room. I was making it easier for him and I shouldn’t have but I had to. I wish I could have done more. OK well just wanted to get you up to speed. I think I’ll just check myself in, I think I’m ready. This pain is really bad, I think I might be losing it. I am going to try really hard to get over this depression I keep falling into. I need to be tough for myself. OK hope all is well with you and Justin. And again I shouldn’t be such a complainer he is alive. See ya soon,
P.O. Box 3314 St. Charles, IL 60174 Tel: (630) 327-9937 Fax: (630) 232-9240 Email: Info@HeartsOfHope.Net |
||||||||||||||||||||
Contact Hearts of Hope for a Drug Free Community!. |
