For years, I believed my son’s addiction was my problem to solve. Finding PAL helped me realize it wasn’t.
I have four children, two biological and two adopted. One of my sons, whom I’ll call Ethan, has struggled with addiction for much of his life.
Ethan is an amazing athlete. His first word was “ball.” He seemed able to pick up any sport and excel. Whether it was basketball at a campground or jumping into a lacrosse game at summer camp, he fit right in. Watching him thrive was one of the great joys of being his mom.
His journey with substances started before he was born. His birth mother used meth during pregnancy, and he tested positive at birth. He was introduced to marijuana in middle school, and from there his drug use expanded.
Over the years, addiction took him down some difficult roads. He was suspended from school, dropped out before eventually earning his GED, got into trouble with the police, totaled three vehicles while under the influence, overdosed on ketamine, accumulated charges, spent time in jail, and experienced homelessness while living out of his car.
Like many parents, I tried everything I could think of to help him. We did urine testing, met with therapists, created agreements about behavior and drug use, explored treatment options, and imposed consequences. At one point, I made the painful decision that he could no longer live in my home, and I maintained that boundary even when he later became homeless.
I carried enormous sorrow, grief, shame, fear, helplessness, and responsibility. I had tried everything I knew to do. Nothing seemed to help, and I felt completely stuck.
One day, I attended a Kindred Spirits event with a friend. Someone had left PAL flyers on the tables. I brought one home and set it on my nightstand, where it sat for two weeks before I finally picked it up and decided to take action.
That simple decision changed my life.
At PAL, I am surrounded by people like me who love their children from the bottom of their hearts and want to see them healthy and thriving.
Their stories aren’t all the same as mine, but they are familiar. We shake our heads in disbelief. We shed lots of tears and hand each other the tissues. We also laugh at some of the absurd situations addiction can bring into our lives.
Most importantly, they understand.
It’s like a weight being lifted from my shoulders to connect with people who truly “get it.” For the first time in a very long time, I didn’t feel alone.
Through PAL, I learned that I cannot control my son’s addiction or recovery. I can’t want recovery more than he does. I can encourage him to make healthy decisions, speak to him as the adult he is, and lovingly say no when necessary.
Most importantly, I’ve learned that I can love my son deeply without taking ownership of choices that belong to him.
Today, Ethan is preparing to be released from jail again. While I am still scared for him, I hear something different in the way he talks. He’s discussing resources, an apprenticeship that interests him, finding supportive housing, and staying clean.
His new attitude gives me hope.
At the same time, PAL has taught me to be realistic with my expectations. Only time will tell what choices he makes next. Whatever happens, I know I will continue to find support, encouragement, and community at PAL.
One of the biggest changes in my life is that I am no longer “as happy as my least happy child.”
While fear and sorrow still visit me from time to time, they now run at a low hum in the background instead of being the main event of my life. I can focus at work again. I have healthier boundaries. I know what is mine and what is not.
Perhaps most surprising of all, I feel relief.
Relief that I no longer have to carry responsibility for choices that are not mine. Relief that I no longer believe I have to solve a problem I cannot solve.
Recently, Ethan sent me a letter from jail telling me he felt I had done everything I could to help him. Those words meant more than I can express.
I don’t know what the future holds. What I do know is that after years of fear, exhaustion, and isolation, I am in the best place I could possibly be.
PAL has been a lifesaver for me. More than anything, it has given me something I desperately needed: a community of people who understand.
I came to PAL looking for answers. What I found was something I needed even more, people who understood.
A PAL Parent
