My Story
by A Grateful Mother
Where did my cuddly little boy go? Where did my giggling, happy-go-lucky bundle of joy go? Where were all the precious moments?
At 14, an angry, defiant, depressed, drug and alcohol abusing, stealing, truant teen had moved into my son’s body — and into my home seemingly overnight.
And life became one of daily misery, anger, shouting and pain.
Adolescence was hard on my son. My husband and I divorced when he was just four. No child benefits from the bitterness of a divorce such as ours. He had to endure family dysfunction and alcoholism on both sides of the family. When he was younger, he lived through my own battles with depression and alcohol as I masked the pain of the divorce. And so many of the kids he was around lived a life of entitlement, rather than gratitude.
He was also on the small, skinny side at an age when his peers were hitting their growth spurts. His father is 6’6”. I assured him that his time would come, but a child at that age can’t see beyond the moment. I knew he endured teasing at school.
I was aware that my son had insecurities and a huge chance of losing the genetic lottery on addiction. I talked about these things with him often. I kept a watchful eye out for his choices. I thought that he had learned from watching me through my years in recovery. But nothing could have prepared me for the emotional freight train that was speeding towards us at 100 mph.
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by Cathy Gilson, 7/15/2011
by Cathy Gilson, 2/28/2011
I told her you were good @ it. Any suggestions I can pass on?
