Hopeless..
As I stood in my living room with my hands still shaking from our most recent fight, I tried to put some stale tobacco in the rolling machine. My lifetime addiction I wish I could quit. I looked up at my reflection in the mirror hanging behind the bar. The years have really taken a toll on my face. Today was another one of those days. My face is red and my eyes are swollen. My hair is particularly disheveled from holding my head in the uncontrollable sobbing that only occurs on these particular days. “What was different about today?” I thought to myself. But I knew it wasn’t anything in particular. I am the mom of an addict and my emotions are like the tides. Today the waves were strong and unpredictable.
As I pondered this 10 year struggle I've endured, I glanced at the inspirational message I put on the mirror I was staring into. It so simply stated, “You were created for more than being dope sick and high.” I thought it was so uplifting to think he might see it one day and he would miraculously realize he was stronger than his addiction.
Now I found myself holding a marker to replace some words to leave it saying, “You were created to be dope sick and high and kill your mother.” Crazy thoughts for a loving person to have about their own flesh and blood, I do realize that. But it wasn't the worst thought I had today.
I used to think I could love him enough and my love would inspire him to change.
Or maybe he would feel so guilty at the tears I’ve shed over the years.
He should have some sort of accountability to make amends to me and convince me he would try to change.
Well he must be nervous when he stole cash or the bad checks he wrote.
How about some loyalty to his mother to not bring drugs into my home.
Grateful for living through a car accident and a broken neck.
Respect to not leave needles and baggies everywhere.
Honesty to finally stop lying about everything,
He must be thankful that I’ve stood by him all these years and gave up everything;
my marriage,
the relationship with my daughter,
My granddaughter;
My mother,
My friends
I was wrong to assume any of this because in the end he only cares about one thing.
I feel heartless to feel so cold towards my son (Wyatt). I don't like to use his name much because Wyatt is the love of my life, my baby boy, my best friend. I have been grieving him although he's still alive. I look at this 27 year old man who lives in my home like he’s the devil that took my son away from me. I wonder if he even notices my stares or looks of disgust. But even if he did, would he care?
