The Healing Place
Some things are hard to talk about. Some things seem impossible. It is those things that are buried so deeply in pain that even the thought of them can bring tears. These are the things that we need to talk about. These are the things that we need to have healing from. These are the things that we need to bring to God.
I have said this before, but for those of you that are newer followers/readers of my blog, I will say it again.. I started this blog with a promise to myself and God that I would be brutally honest and talk about the hard things that hurt the most. I believe that if something I write, although painful to talk about or share can touch even one person so that they don’t feel alone in a similar situation, then it is worth the pain and effort of sharing.
So here I go, baring my soul again.
My daughter, who is my first-born and an angel to my spirit, is a drug addict. Not just a casual smoke-up here and there user, but a serious addict that is so caught up in that world that it has almost completely changed the wonderful child that I have known and loved the past twentyy-three years.
It started when she was twelve – I think as a game from someone else that she loved who kept her quiet by giving her marijuana. It was not fine, it was not good and caused the family tremendous stress. Quickly the addiction grew as I sought out medical help, help from the school boards, help from psychologists, psychiatrists, church, rehabilitation centres (which I put her in three times) and any other desperate plea I could think of to stop this road to hell that she was spiralling down.
Although I was a single mother, most of my time and effort were spent on her to “fix” the problem, at the very high cost of not giving enough attention to my other three children and even losing days at work as I chased down different professionals in hopes of helping her stop.
The family suffered. As the years went on, she was completely reckless. She would take any combination of whatever she could get her hands on and it was a very desperate situation. More than a few times, I had to call an ambulance. More than a few times, the police came to try to stop her violent behaviour towards her siblings and often towards me. The children lived in this volatile situation which caused them fear, stress, anxiety and dealing with my own depression as I was not able to do anything to stop this tidal wave of destruction.
Many times friends counselled me to “kick her out of the home”. What a harsh thing to think about doing to a sixteen-year-old child who despite her behaviour, had so little life skills that there was no way, in good conscience that I could do that. I could never have lived with myself if anything had happened to her. By the time she was 18, her addictions had escalated further and her behaviour was more destructive than ever. She was coming and going at all hours of the day and night and nothing at all could stop her. My poor kids… going to school, they were waking up all hours of the night from her violent outbursts, her bringing strangers into her room at any time of the day or night. I finally was ready to do what needed to be done by this time.
This is the girl who cried with me every afternoon after watching “Touched by an Angel”; who cared for me in every way when I was sick with kidney infections, stones, etc; she came to church with me; she prayed with me; she cared deeply and compassionately for others as slowly this part of her was being eaten by her consuming hunger to be high every moment of her waking life.
I watched her destroy herself and the family. Finally, just after she turned twenty years old, I took the courage and told her that she had to leave. It was not only heart-breaking, but it was also a hell that I did not expect. My sons, who at the time were 16 & 17, were steadfast and there for me. She even went to the extent of phoning the police on me to say that I was crazy as I wanted her to leave. The police were there no more than ten minutes before they saw through her attempt to turn the tables. It was so, so sad. My heart has never hurt me as much as it did when these days were passing. A part of me died as she left me. I still had faith in her healing, but I had such strong hope that she would be healed at home and that it would never come to her leaving.
Was the lesson mine to learn? Was this for her good, for my good, the family’s? Any way that I look at it, I only see a family destroyed and try to hang on to the hope that I have always had.
When she left, I had hoped that she would bring herself to detox. I had given her thirty days before leaving to do so. I promised her that if she did that, she could stay and that I would continue to support her in every way possible. The day that she left, I reminded her that I had been begging her to not let it come to the day of making her leave and that I had wanted her to go for help and she just said “f you”.
So there is the hard part of this story. There is some light, although it may still be far away at the end of this road. For these things I am so thankful. She is worse now than ever and I hear terrible stories of what she does to get drugs – I cannot even type the words, but use the worst of your imagination.
I still have held tight to faith and believe that she is healed as soon as she decides to see that God is still standing beside her with His arms wide open waiting for her to just open her eyes.
I still see glimmers of the sweet, thoughtful child that stole my heart before she was born.
I still believe with all of my heart that God is bigger, God is stronger, God is more able than I (we) could ever imagine.
I still love her with all of my heart.
- Thank you for reading. This was very hard to share, but if it touched you in some way, I would love to hear
- Easter Ellen