Drug Addiction Possible At Any Age

[riobikini]

My son, T, was 11 when he started using drugs. Pills, pot -whatever was available to him and was being shared among his friends. These kids didn't have a lot of money -just a few allowance dollars from parents.

 

I didn't know about my own son's experimentation, and subsequent addiction with drugs until much later.

 

My husband, who was the "rock" in our family -and held us together with this incredible glue"- had just died and the three of us (my older son, 13, myself, and T) felt as if the bottom had fallen out of our world and we were devastated, at a loss of how to live without him.

 

To T, my husband had been this ever-present, extraordinary hero and they were very close. Taking his inspiration from my husband, T excelled in various sports -football was his favorite- and at only eleven years of age, he had achieved loads of local attention from his school in athletics in so short a time. He loved -and lived- the games.

 

Back then, I was young and working exhausting long hours as a nurse, and T (like a lot of kids) didn't have all that much in common with his older brother and stuck with his friends who played sports, most of the time.

 

Not one of us was dealing with the death very well. We were all trying to do what we thought we were "supposed" to be doing: the routine things we had always done.

 

We weren't really allowing ourselves to connect with the reality of the impact of the loss.

 

We were just robots in denial.

 

It was about this time that our world began to change even more in ways that were as unexpected as the loss to our family we had just suffered -and in ways that took us all three down a path that there were times I didn't think we would ever survive.

 

The whole household had taken on a dark and dismal kind of atmosphere since the death -it was empty, strange, unfamiliar- and so much so that none of us looked forward to going home after work or school.

 

The boys argued more, and after a few months, everyone was feeling a sort of edginess from not dealing directly with the loss that none of us functioned the way a close, loving family should have, or the way "normal" people grieve and heal after the death of someone very close.

 

And it just worsened.

 

There was an opportunity of a turning point where I realized how seriously our relationships with each other had deteriorated -but I could not seem to muster the courage to approach the subject and start tackling what needed to be done.

 

I felt as if all my strength was gone, and that I lacked the "something" that was needed to change things.

 

There was this deep hurt in the way that was so huge it overshadowed me, and rendered me powerless.

 

There were moments I was ashamed that I couldn't find the strength in myself to do whatever it was that needed to be done about our emotional circumstances, and still not knowing exactly what intervention to take if I had known.

 

So I did nothing.

 

I came off shift one afternoon to find all T's trophies, and all the things we had displayed boxed up and sitting in the floor of the garage, along with a pile of sports equipment. It was a sight that truly shook me, and left me bewildered, hurt and numb.

 

I could only cry.

 

Instead of taking responsibility as a mom and gathering both of my sons to me, and encouraging us all three to *finally* talk about our loss, our feelings about it, and start grieving *properly* and dealing with it *openly* -and as a family- I just shoved it back and added to the growing chasm of painful, non-communitive dysfunction in our family.

 

Everybody *wanted* a way to deal with the pain we were feeling -but no body knew exactly what that was.

 

My son, T, found his "way" through drugs.

 

At school, he began detaching from his friends in sports, and made new "friends" who knew all about drugs, -and although they were surprisingly young- had been taking them for a long time, and had plenty of access to them.

 

These new friends were "into" other things, as well. Apparently, drugs were not enough.

 

T was approaching his twelfth birthday when I first discovered drugs in his room. A lighter and a joint fell out of his pillowcase as I changed his bed linen.

 

And a strange little book lay underneath his pillow. I read the title and skimmed through it -it was all about "rites" and "passage" and had drawings of hooded figures hovering over stone fire pits and -by the time I had paged through it for a moment or two- I knew it was trouble.

 

I looked around the room and opened the closet door. In the back of the closet was a makeshift "altar" and more books, little glass pipes, and related paraphernalia -even a small carved dagger.

 

I tore the room apart.

 

By the time I was finished, I had a pile of stuff -more drugs included- lying in the middle of the floor and I just sat beside it all down and cried.

 

During that time in my life, *our lives*- it seemed that was all I could do.

 

But it wasn't changing anything -and it did little to make me any stronger.

 

Sitting near that pile of despicable trash, something started to change in me though. The more I looked at, thought about it, and saw where it had stemmed from, and where it could lead just made me angrier and angrier.

 

Between the momentary outbursts of tears and the change-off to intervals of anger, I think -for the first time- it was then that I actually began to realize how truly dysfunctional we all had been reacting in regards to B's death, and started to see what a downward spiral we had allowed ourselves to be sucked into.

 

I came face-to-face with my reality and started to deal with the circumstances created out of our avoidance of an overwhelming loss, and even farther back: the loss, itself.

 

To shorten this personal account, my son T was not too happy with my going through his room (you may have a different opinion about what I did, but under the circumstances, I'm glad I did) -and in the months to come, he appreciated my intervention even less - but today, he's *thankful* that I loved him enough to do what I did.

 

The beginning, middle, or ending to this wasn't easy; it actually got much worse before it got better.

 

There was a point where I was called at work by T to hear that he was about to hang himself from the ceiling light fixture in his room, there were a lot of "I hate you's!" yelled from T to me in the house from time to time; there were countless physical outbursts where things crashed to the floor and were broken, but not as much as my heart because I didn't start soon enough in dealing with the problem *when it started*.

 

And there was counseling, rehab, getting him back on track with school work.

 

There was the issue of his old friends vs. all the "trouble" it took to make new friends.

 

And lots of other hell to deal with.

 

He was almost fourteen before we were through the initial part of this -throughout high school and his very early adulthood he had some relapses but we got through it.

 

He's 28 now -and he's OK.- he is stable, in charge of his own life, is happy, and for the last seven years has not taken drugs (still gets counseling) but he knows I am duty-bound (heart and soul) as an active cheerleader in his fight against them and will - without a doubt- strongly re-intervene if I am ever needed.

 

I cannot deny that I am still always checking for any changes that might indicate the presence of drugs appearing in his life again. I think it would be unwise for either one of us to ignore that possibility -no matter how long it's been since his last use -but he has done well- better than most- and I am proud of his progress.

 

With both my sons grown , I have two young daughters now -I'm starting all over- (Smile) -and although I know that no one can be certain what the future holds, you *can* be more cautious, keenely aware, and above all, more *involved* with your children to create a doorway that each can cross over at anytime to stay in touch and show you care.

 

I think that's the key to dealing with whatever comes your way: letting those you love *know* you *love* them. No matter what happens.

 

I hesitated before posting this, but in the long-run I hope this personal account of my son's drug addiction at a very young age has been useful to someone with children who have started using drugs at a very young age, and gives hope for positive help and intervention -whatever their circumstances.

 

Addiction to drugs can happen to anybody -to any family. If you *suspect* your child is taking drugs, or *know* your child is taking drugs, don't run from the problem like I did at first, -reach out to someone for strength and support to deal with the problem.

 

Your posts/comments are welcome (-please forgive the typo's and far less-than-perfect grammar).

 

Take Care.

 

-Rio

[amaysngrace]

Rio, you are truly an amazing woman. Thank you for sharing your story of courage and love.

 

XO

[Art_Critic]

I'm speechless.. thanks for the most moving 15 mins I've ever spent on LS

 

Thanks for sharing Rio..

 

You are an amazing woman

[Guest]

RIO,

 

what u say here is true...the answer is to reach out however.....

 

"Addiction to drugs can happen to anybody -to any family. If you *suspect* your child is taking drugs, or *know* your child is taking drugs, don't run from the problem like I did at first, -reach out to someone for strength and support to deal with the problem."

 

..there are times in one's life where it is just not that easy, or possible to do so, and you will never be faulted for that.

 

and one should realize that there are many was to 'reach out' to someone...

 

and to prove that point, here is a brief outline - i went thru a similar experience, only i was the one using drugs. my "rio" did try and reach out, a number of times, but i made it impossible for myself to "hear" her because there was more than one issue on the table...so, that 'reaching' didn't work and she decided to leave me...that reality 'snapped' me out of it...i was 'losing the love of my life'. i knew [and told her] that the moment she walked out that door things would change forever - THAT'S WHAT SNAPPED ME OUT OF IT.

 

so u see, my 'rio' actually did reach out, many times, and she found a way to save me, herself, and those around us - at a great price - but that is what her and i risked by simply not communicating...however, because we have all survived and gotten better, the amount of love and respect everyone has for the 4 has become stronger..

[riobikini]

Guest: great feedback!

 

And I'm happy for your positive outcome.

 

(Smile)

 

-Rio