When addiction first crept into our household 11 years ago, I started keeping a journal. Retreating to clean white paper became my refuge. The blank pages stared back, non-judgmental and welcoming. On their unvarnished surface I poured out my anguish, fear, confusion and shame. It was the only place – until many years later – …
Recently, my husband and I spoke at a treatment center for adults suffering with addiction. In front of us sat some 25 men and women, a few in their twenties, but most seemed much older, in their fifties or sixties. We talked about our son, how his addiction began in high school and haunted his …
He’s still waiting. Somehow my husband thought, magically, once our son was in recovery and had a decent job he would offer to pay for all the shattered side mirrors on our Chevy Trailblazer that he drove during high school. Just one of many “expenses” from his years with addiction. And since he was in …