I wasn’t going to write about Christmas but I know I should but I don’t want too.

I thought I might avoid the subject altogether.

Because it hurts.

But It’s not healing if your not talking about it.

Twelve days of Christmas is playing on Foxtel now.

That on its own puts me on the brink of tears.

Last year my younger addicted son watched Christmas movies with my youngest child and I.

It’s these things that hurt simple things.

This year we are watching them alone.

 I’m letting them go I’m going to give them to my god.

Their addiction their chaos their disease is driving me crazy.

It doesn’t mean I don’t love them it doesn’t mean I’m neglecting them it means I’m trusting my God to take them.

I’m not sure how. But I’m going to try because I can’t save them I have to hand them up.

I have to pray for them I have to entrust them to my God and trust my God has them in the palm of his hand and I need to let them go.

I need to change for my own sanity I’m completely powerless.

There is no other option open to me.

My sadness rises and dives like riding a wave  pulling me up and then dunking me under.

I try to shake it off.

But the tears have fallen today and lots of them but still I’m letting go.

When was the exact moment they both became lost to me?

When did my Eldest Addicted son begin to hate me?

The exact moment that was the last time it was real and they were happy to talk to me happy to let me be their mum.

I ring my younger addicted son and he doesn’t answer so I message him and tell him that twelve days of Christmas is playing on Foxtel.

I think he will know what I’m saying.

But I don’t know weather he will care.

My eldest Addicted son messages me he has brought his baby brother a Christmas present can I pay the postage? But he hates me still.

He reminds me he hates me by telling me this.

Maybe he hates his disease hates being stuck in the quicksand stuck in the abyss of his addiction.

Does he remember giggling with me on Christmas Eve ?

Does he know I love him does he remember?

The same questions burn constantly inside my soul they pierce my heart.

Why?

But I know the reason it’s their pain that keeps them in Addiction.

Neither of my Addicted Sons are  sitting here in my living room today and my younger addicted Son won’t  be in his bedroom this Christmas night no presents under the tree for him.

Just an empty pair of shoes that poke out from under his bed to remind me he once was here.

Both of them on Christmas Day will either be strung out or nodding out or sitting in a jail cell it can go either of these ways take a pick.

 

This emptiness I’m feeling is vast and as deep as the ocean itself to which I feel as if I too am drowning with them.

My husband says let’s make our own Christmas traditions.

Let’s make it for us and our youngest child.

I will smile this Christmas Day and I will make this day exciting for my youngest child.

I will be present for my husband and my child and I will recreate new traditions and try not to live in the old traditions.

 I will Cook new recipes and eat different food.

I will not show my yearning my emptiness I will not look at their  empty chairs this year.

Instead I will pray god hears my prayers and walks with my Addicted sons on their journey.

But when my day is over and the house is quiet within.

I will sit outside on the same green grass they feel beneath their feet.

I will gather up their things their photos their trinkets left behind and I will remember, I will let their memories their laughter run through my heart I will hear the laughter of their childhood. I will breath in the smell of the last shirt they wore the smell of summer the smell of jasmine and the stillness of Christmas Night and I know they too will be breathing in these same smells which I know will give me some comfort.As if we are still connected in some small way.

I will sleep with their blanket  and their hats beneath my pillow.

This will be my Christmas hug my Christmas connections with my Addicted Sons.

This has to be enough for now.

I will sit really still and I will imagine I will pray and then I will pick myself up and I will let them go.

The scary thing about addiction you don’t know if they will stay lost to you forever.

Or if they will remember and choose to hang on.

Please share 

Annemaree Whinn

# My Addict Sons 

 

1. My youngest child was diagnosed with heart disease last Christmas.
   They told us he was lucky to survive infancy.
   The surgery was scheduled and things were explained to us.
   We were scared but medical science is amazing now.
   A few nights before surgery my husband said to me please don’t yell at the Drs will you.
   I was so surprised and actually offended I said to him why would I yell at the Drs ?
   My husband is a wise man and he just let me go rolled his eyes and let it go.
   My youngest child went in , I was so scared he was in ICU with lines and the blood bag and I was petrified.
   They couldn’t take his breather tube out because his blood pressure went up and down.
   I think they called it hypertensive.
   Drs and Nurses worked on my son and were with my baby constantly.
   I was petrified of losing him .
   I’ve been scared like this before but in a different way.
   But both feelings were the same , the same fear for my children.
   My second youngest Addict Child was on a rooftop of a supermarket he never does things quietly he was in an Ice pychosis he spent 3 months in an intensive care psychiatric unit.
   I was petrified because my Addict son was no longer my son anymore, he was dying on the inside his soul was dying.
   I was afraid for his life.
   It hit me when my Addict Child was in the psych unit.
   I held him sponged his sweaty face down and I fed him drinks through straws and sponged the spit that formed around his mouth.
   I nursed him the same way I was there nursing my youngest sick child.
   The difference was I yelled at the psychiatrist, the nurses that looked after my Addict Child .
   I demanded , I made it comfortable for my addicted child. When he cried for more meds I demanded more meds .
   But when my youngest child lay in the ICU, tubes and wires hanging out of him.
   I did not yell at the Drs I allowed them to do their job .
   I did not for one minute think I could save or fix my baby .
   That would be insane.
   I do not have a degree in medicine.
   So what gave me the right to yell at the psychiatrist that treated my Addict Child I do not have a degree in psychiatry.
   I realised all my children are sick but in different ways .
   I realised I need to take my hands off my Addict sons.
   My Addict sons have a germ growing inside of them, that Germ is their addiction.
   That germ thrives on my love my support my enabling.
   I realised today why my husband said you won’t yell at the Drs, he said this because I always yell at the Drs the police anyone who I feel poses a threat to my addicted sons.
   But it is not my sons they pose a threat to it is the Germ and I have come to see this.
   Who am I to take control of their disease.
   This is their disease and I need to take my hands of their disease, their Germ their addiction.
   I have to let go of the thought I can control their disease, no matter how much I want too.
   This disease cannot be controlled because it is a disease.
   I think this is when I finally understood addiction as the disease it really is and realised how powerless I really was.
   My addicted child was dying inside and I was trying desperately to control the germ but I can’t control the germ from spreading.
   It is a choice to use but when you become addicted the choice between using and not wanting to use is blurred.
   There no longer is a choice.
   Until they hit rock bottom.
   So I need to let them hit rock bottom that is their medicine that will be their recovery their saving grace they will never get well while I’m there screaming at Drs .
   Putting letters before the court saving them from jail.
   I need to let go and let them hit bottom then they and only then can they choose recovery.
   I cannot choose it for them.

NarAnon Step One
Step 1: We admitted we were powerless over the addict – that our lives had become unmanageable.

 

I hate Domestic Violence.

I hate that word as it defines who I am.

I don’t want Domestic Violence to define me.

I hate having to explain that I have two sons that are addicted.

I see the look people give me when I say it they look at me and I know they see my well dressed clothes, my make up my hair my nice handbag.

I know I don’t fit their picture of what a mother to an Addict should look like or a women of domestic violence.

But how should a mother look?How should a woman look that’s a survivor to Domestic Violence.

We are just everyday Women.

I feel I have to explain I was in Domestic Violence and this is how it came about that I have two addicted sons.

I see the look again it’s either surprise or sympathy both looks I dread.

Domestic violence has defined me its made me into the women I am today.

I never even knew I was living in Domestic Violence funny that isn’t it?

I hate talking about it, thinking about it, but it’s such a big part of my life and the women I have become.

I grew into womanhood with this man, it’s defined me like it or not.

I still feel ashamed guilty as if it were my fault.

I remember years ago watching the movie sleeping with the enemy with Julia Roberts and how her husband would come home and hit her because the towels were not properly lined up or the cans in the cupboard were not in order.

My towels in my bathroom have never sat right and my food cupboard was and still is always a mess and my ex husband never hit me because of these reasons.

I remembered watching this movie and thinking well he’s not like that so it mustn’t be Domestic Violence.

Domestic violence and addiction, drugs ,Alcohol are so closely interwoven and this violence takes many forms your partner doesn’t have to hit you everyday for it to be Domestic Violence,it can be physical mental and sexual.

I lived with all these and didn’t know it.

I was accustomed to it and I actually thought this was my life even though I never saw my father hit my Mother.

I accomodated the  Violence I made excuses for it.

For the physical violence I had a exit to quickly get out of his way.

Most women who suffer physical abuse will have a quick exit.

When I knew he was building up to a physical fight I made sure it was in my kitchen my quick exit out the backdoor.

He would never follow me out there sometimes I wasn’t so lucky and he’d get me cornered In the kitchen beside the fridge and the stove.

My eldest son didn’t receive his wrath.

My youngest addicted son did.

Images hover in my head the Violence the words echo and flash across my eyes.

I hated dinner time, dinner table sitting down to eat my youngest Addicted son would kick and swing his legs like children do.

If my ex husband was having a bad day and was craving drugs the table the chairs the  dinner plates would go flying.

So I accommodated I made sure my youngest Addicted son sat no where near his father.

But the dinner could be too hot and that would set him off I had it down pat I made sure his dinner was the perfect temperature.

I feel so ashamed why did I not leave?

The mental abuse comes too and in many forms.

My ex husband didn’t want me to work.

 I was dependent on him.

I didn’t get my drivers license until I was 28.

I block a lot of the mental abuse out not sure if I’m even able to open up these wounds have them gaping open and staring in to my soul.

I think I like to bury it but I know by not talking about it , it will fester inside of me and I need to heal I need to forgive myself.He made me feel inferior ugly not womanly even as I write this I start to feel sick but it’s true.

He isolated me made me distrust myself my family but all at the same time being nice to my family but behind closed doors telling me they didn’t like me.

You hear it often enough you start to believe it.

He did this and acted this way because he is an addict he was fighting his own demons he didn’t like himself he still doesn’t.

He’s still fighting his disease though I think the fight has been lost now.

He doesn’t want to be alone so he kept me down knocked me down and kept knocking me down, so I believed he was my protector when really he was the perpetrator.

I know today he still hates himself because he keeps my children down he knocks them down with his insults  for wanting to change their life.

He puts mistrust between me and my children and it works.

This is what they call Family Violence.

Today my ex husband hasn’t changed he’s still mean and abusive I’m sure he is contrite and sorry afterwards.

I bet that hasn’t changed.

When I lived with him He would take me out for dinner or buy me that dress or pair of shoes I wanted.

I’m not sure how he makes it up to my Addicted sons.

Probably in drugs.

I hate Domestic Violence and I hate how IT’S the big uncomfortable secret.

I hate how I still feel ashamed and guilty and I hate how people don’t understand.

Unless you have lived it you truly won’t get it.

I wish I had left I wish I had took my children my Addicted sons when they were babes.

I wish I had known then what I know today.

But I can’t change it.

Even as I write this I picture my father his face not believing me I see my father and I hear his thoughts well what did you do?

It can’t be that bad if you are not leaving, or if your going back the unspoken words but the thoughts were loud and clear.

How can I explain.

I didn’t do anything.

My ex husband wanted drugs he was an addict and a violent alcoholic.

I didn’t do anything that’s why they call it Domestic Violence.

I let him do to me what he shouldn’t of done.

I can never tell my Addicted Sons I’m sorry I’ve tried but it gets stuck and garbled and mumbled and they are so stuck in the cycle of violence themselves they can’t grasp it.

My cross to bear how can I ever not feel ashamed how can I ever fix it.

It’s not the bruises on the body that hurt, but the wounds of the heart and the scars on the soul.

Please share ❤️

Annemaree Whinn

# break the silence #shred the shame #No more guilt#

#My Addict Sons 

The Three C’s
I didn’t cause it
I can’t control it
I can’t cure it.
A simple slogan from Nar anon to remember and repeat that can bring comfort when in the midst of chaos with our Addicted love one.

21 

My son turned  21 .

I turned 40 

My parents have their 40 th wedding anniversary.

Big milestones this year .

But this year my parents don’t talk to me addiction has destroyed that .

This year my son is a Ice Addict living under a bridge .

This year I am 40 alone in a different state away from my closest friends .

This year I turn 40 with my best friend my soft place to fall my husband.

I have my husband and I’m grateful to him and I know he will spoil and ravish his love on me I know he will do this because he is my soul mate my soft place .

I thank God for him every day I’m so lucky to have found him .

If Addiction hadn’t destroyed our family we would have a big party and celebrate but addiction has .

My eldest baby 21 a big milestone he’s already surpassed milestones I will never imagine or envision .

What do I buy my addict son that he will not hock  ?

What do you do for an addict who is so broken and doesn’t care .

I get him a tattoo unless he decides to chop his arm off he can’t hock that .

I think this is a clever idea ,I’m outsmarting the addict not my son .

The Addict always wants money this tattoo is for my son .

This tattoo the addict cannot steal.

A tattoo is permanent a reminder .

I speak to the Tattoo guy I pay for the Tattoo online , I explain not to refund my son  the money , that I want his tattoo to be meaningful something we can add to a reminder that my addict son is strong beautiful and I love him .

Of course my son misses his first Intital appointment he is high .

Another appointment is made he gets a skull tattoo with a rose.

I didn’t want the skull and he explains to me mum the skull is my life the decay the disease the Rose growing out of the skull is you my love for you and all things good and pure .

I am happy with that .

He has a daily reminder now of the love I have for him .

This is my hope that we can add to his tattoo that his life is not over .

That I’m there I’m a constant reminder to him I’m with him now on his arm wherever he goes I am there and strangely I feel peace and a flicker of hope that one day we can add to this tattoo.

Also I have fleeting thoughts that if ever he over doses in a alley or under a bridge he will be buried with a permanent reminder of my love for him.

I will be will him always.

I have a cake made its a rainbow cake I used to sing somewhere over the rainbow ,when he was a baby it’s our family lullaby .

I have written on the rainbow “The journey of a 1000 miles begins with one step “-Lao Tzu.

Hidden messages trying so hard to channel my faith my hope and courage into his broken soul.

I don’t know if he understands the message I don’t know if he cares .

But my son is 21 today and I need him to know from across the way how much I love him how much I’m praying that he chooses life and not to exist .

Today I pray for my son .

Somewhere over the rainbow

Bluebirds fly

And the dreams that you dream of

Dreams really do come true

Someday, I wish upon a star

Wake up where the clouds are far behind me

Where trouble melts like lemon drops

High above the chimney top

That’s where you’ll find me

Israel Kamakawiw’ ole

Chocolate chip cookies 

It’s funny how you forget things .

My youngest son is a toddler he is 3 we went shopping today .

Memories snatches of memories of me shopping with my other sons when they were little .

My eldest loved chocolate chip cookies we called  him the Cookie Monster because one minute they were there and then the next they were gone .

Funny how as a mum you know yr child’s taste and you do the groceries  you buy their favourites because that’s what we do as mums .

My youngest son also loves chocolate chip cookies , we will form our own rituals like calling into Hungry Jacks on the way home .

When my Addict sons were younger it was hot chips from the local take away .

Today I was unpacking the groceries and I wandered when was the last time my eldest child ate a chocolate chip cookie .

Does he remember that he loved cookies when he was little can he remember dipping them in my tea .

Is he so broken he’s forgotten is it too painful to remember.

I remember  my youngest addict son running down the driveway from school on shopping day to see what goodies I had brought .

I wandered when was it the last time they ever did that .

There is a last time for everything.

The last time I held them the last time they brushed their teeth in my bathroom the last time I helped dress them .

Did I even know that would be our last time .

Today I am going to appreciate and take in everything because today could be the last time I lick chocolate of my youngest child’s fingers , he may want to wash his own hands next time .

Our children grow up they go away from us .

All parents  have last times with their children.

Last time they hop in to bed with you .

Having a Adult child as a addict you go over in yr mind constantly yr last times because they are all you really have .

You hold them precious to your heart because the last times are all I have .

I don’t have happy  first times with my adult addicts .

I don’t have the first time they drove a car a first time they got their license a first time they graduated from school .

A first time at a school formal or even a first time for a girlfriend.

It is all last times , and horrifying first times like overdoses ,hospital visits ,jail ,pychosis, these are a mums first times when you have a addict for a child .

But I am going to appreciate what I have at this moment I have first  happy times and last times with my youngest child .

I am grateful to God for my second chance at mother hood a second chance to be a mum .

I’m going to pour all my love in to my youngest child because I cannot do it for my addict sons .

I can love them from afar and that is all I can do today .

Missing you comes in waves today felt like I was drowning .

AnneMaree Whinn

#My Addict Sons

Thanks for joining me!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton