No No No No...

Eight months worth of sharing to catch up on.  Pull the bandage off the wound method seems the only way I can put this down in writing.  La Petite, my youngest, only living child, is seventeen years old and has been living with his father on and off for the last few years.  I found out on Sunday morning and confirmed yesterday that he is shooting heroin.  Fuck My Life.

Yeah, its's been a while...

It's hard to believe that so much time has passed since my last post. I still spend some quiet time each night before falling asleep composing posts in my head, and always begin my work mornings catching up on the blogs that are still around. Yet I rarely if ever comment and can never seem to find the words in the light of day to write an actual post.  I only wish my writers block was caused by a lack of material to share, and not the lack of time it would take to bring this blog current with all that has happened in my life this last eight months or so. 

What I never did is done....

Lord make me into a rainbow.. I'll shine down on my mother, she'll know I'm safe with you when she stands under your colors,  life aint always what you think its gonna be, aint even gray when she buries her baby..

HOPELESS.  That is exactly how I feel..  La Petite just finished a stint in detox for Xanax.  He is 16 and is doing his second tour (?) in rehab.  Really.  My mom has been in the hospital less 4 days for over a month now.  My Prince would have turned 23 this past Saturday. This coming Sunday is the first birthday in 44 years that absolutely no one in my family is here.  My dad is dead.  My Prince. Dead.  I survived my first and hopefully only suicide attempt last fall,  6 days state mandated in the looney bin.  True Story.  For the record... not a great way to spend Labor Day.  Why am I unlovable???  I just need someone to put their arms around me and tell me they love me. My plate is full.  Fuck you Heroin.


The sharp knife of a short life. 

Peace y'all

And here I am...

My ex-husband, who is 44 years old, took ill quite suddenely in the middle of December. His blood pressure had apparently been extremely high and unmanaged (oh the irony...) for the last few years. Add a pint or so of vodka and two packs a cigarettes a day, he was admitted to the CCU unit of the hospital, put on blood thinners for fear of a heart attack or stroke and there he sat for approximately 8 or 9 weeks fighting off a myriad of ailments that has ultimaly left him with renal failure and he now requires dialysis for 3 to 4 hours a day, three times a week. For the rest of his life. He is still out of work. Good Times.

The little Prince alternates where he sleeps on a pretty regular basis. Although I am the "legal" custodial parent, he splits his time between the both of us. Often choosing to stay with his father since he is the more lenient parent as far as curfews, healthy eating, and boundaries are concerned. Truth be told I often prefer him to stay with his father, because quite frankly I no longer have the patience to deal with another obnoxious, beligerant, substance abusing teenager.

When I walk in the house after working all day and I am greeted, no, lets call it assaulted by the pungeant odor of a recently smoked blunt, it does not a happy homecoming make, to say the least. And so begins the circle-jerk of bullshit, where in I accuse, he denies, I become angry and defensive along the lines, of yeah, by now, do you reallllyy think I dont know what weed smells like by now?? Seriously? Followed up by his dramatic hysterionics of how he hates to be f-ing accused of being high, F-Bombs fly, blah blah blah. Doors slam. and..... end scene. He is, or he tries to be a bully.

The last few times he has slept at my house this week, I was quite sure he was high. My instinct over the years is rarely wrong. So the fight scene above repeats itself. Boundaries. I try to set the boundaries. The rules to live in my home are quite simple. NO DRUG USE. Period. You can not use in my house, you can not bring drugs into my house, I will not give you money, you will not take what doesnt belong to you. Go to school, make curfew, and you will have respect. There will be no telling me to go Fuck myself. Period. And yet.

My M.O. is to throw him the fuck out of my house as I have done before until he decides that my rules are for real. Dont wanna follow them? You know where the door is. However, when he stays with his father or his grandparents, the rules are far and few between. As long as you physically go to school everyday, then psst okay, cool! Homework? Ehh homework is for those studious college bound types. You smoked a little pot? Came home a little stumbly and slurry cause you had a fewtoo many beers? Well thank the little baby jesus that you arent messing with those damn opiates again... No job or desire to secure one? Well, sure, you should probably be working, but as long as you somehow are still managaing to get your cigarettes and weed and a few beers and maybe a pint of vodka or so on the weekends... and as long as I dont have to foot the bill... then it's all good.

Perhaps I am being ever so slightly dramatic. But seriously not so much. This afternoon his new school that he attends for "disaffected students" and others with various emotional disabilities called to tell him he appeared high and reeked of pot in class yesterday, and that today he was removed from a class after being disrespectful and then cursing at a teacher. And he hasn't done a single homework assignment in two of his classes. I called him and explained that he is not to leave the house afterschool today and he will not be allowed to leave the house until said assignments are made up. This was followed up with his typical response of that is stupid. That is so stupid. Bottom line, I told him yet again, my way or the highway and if he wants to continue to have a place to rest his thick head in my home, then I suggest he do as he is told.

I really do not have to energy to do this again.

Feelings.

Disbelief
Confusion
Fear
Denial
Anger
Fear
Sadness
Rage
Terror
Disbelief

This is just a short list off the top of my head that I can think of when I remember first learning that my Prince was using drugs. The same list can alos apply to the many feelings I remember feeling the moments after I learned my Prince died of a drug overdose. It is almost like coming full circle on an emotional rollercoaster.

We were ready for anything... but this

Yesterday was two years since my beautiful prince left this world. A mass was said in his name on Saturday evening in the same church where his requiem mass was held. I am ashamed to admit that I have not stepped foot in that church or any other since the day my son was buried. I was raised catholic and still believe in God and respect some of the laws of catechism, but if I am to be honest with myself, I have to admit it has been very difficult for me to not question and doubt the justness of the last few years of my life. That being said, it felt good to be in church, surrounded by my friends and some family and to remember the rituals of a Catholic Mass. My favorite part has always been (please forgive me if I have the terminology incorrect), when the priest lowly chants the words of consecration over the gifts while the litany is being sung. It has always been the part of mass that somewhat restores my faith.

One of my oldest and dearest friends arranged to have the mass said. After we received communion and kneeled for the obligatory prayer, she leaned over to me and told me she also said a prayer for me and told me she was proud of me for being so strong. While I appreciated the kind words I don't know that I am any stronger than anyone else in my position, but I know I am just trying to survive.

So much has changed in these last two years, and so much is still so very much the same. I miss him so very much. I feel as though there is something I should be doing or should have been doing to make some kind of difference in this world. In his name. Yet, I know in and around the area where I live, the prescription drug abuse is spiraling at all time highs. There have been frequent pharmacy hold ups for oxys, many of them resulting in shoot outs and deaths of innocent people who happened to be in the wrong time at the wrong place. I do not live in a city or even very close to the city, I live in suburbia. In my humble opinion, there needs to be something done about the Oxycotin. Take it off the market. Or have it only available in a clinic type setting. I have thankfully never had pain so terrible that I needed opiates to treat it, but I have suffered the pain of losing a child to an opiate overdose. If this drug is so dreadfully addicting, that paople become so desperate for it that they are willing to walk into a family drugstore in the middle of the afternoon, on a busy street and kill for it, well then, this to me is problematic.

Thank you silence...

Thanksgiving is rapidly approaching and officially kicking off the holiday season. I know from reading others blogs that the holiday season, when you are the parent (brother/sister/spouse/grandparent) of an addict, that the holidays are often filled with trepidation. Will they show up high? Will they show up at all? Will pieces of the good silver go missing? Will there be a blowout and a scene? The negative possibilites are endless when there is an addict in your life.

Remarkably, when the Prince was alive, our holidays were without drama. The 2009 holiday season preceeded his death by mere weeks. In hindsight, I can remember him being quieter than usual, and looking at the pictures from that late fall/early winter, you can see the difference in his eyes. The dark circles around them.

I do not know what it is like to celebrate a holiday while my child is incarcerated, or in a rehab. I only know what it is like to have the perpetual empty seat at my holiday table, the seat where my Prince once sat. The seat that he will never sit in again. The empty seats in the future where his wife and my grandchildren should have sat. It is so easy to dwell on the pain and the loss. I still have moments daily that take my breath away with the realization that he is really and truly dead.

As the weather turns slowly in the fall, and the holidays approach, I fantasize about not celebrating at all. I dream of getting on an airplane and laying in the warm sun and eating fresh mangos instead of roasting a turkey and certainly not preparing for the mother of all family holidays- Christmas. If I could flip the calendar from October 31st- January 9th each year I would. Its hard to be thankful and full of joy when you spend more time planning on how you will decorate your childs grave for the holidays than you think about decorating your home.

My once large family has grown smaller with each passing year, and I have lost interest in carrying on holiday traditions and. Yet,my Little Prince deserves the Mom he used to have, the Mom who painstakingly planned every detail of every holiday menu and tried her best to make everything as perfect as possible (within a perfectly flawed family that is) at each celebration.

A part of that Mom is gone forever. I can see it in my own eyes when I look in the mirror. The pain of losing a child is indescribable. And it is there, present, front and center with every breath you take. But, as I sat by my sons grave this past Sunday, where I spend most of my weekend days, it occured to me, that I have spent more time over the last 22 months at the graveside of my dead child than I have spent focusing on the precious child I still have. The living, breathing, young man who needs his mother desperatley. And it occured to me how very, very wrong and unfair that is.

It would be easy to skip the holiday... having a dead child gets you a pass on these kinds of things, but then, after much reflection, I decided to take a long hard look at myself and remember what Thanksgiving is really about. It is about being thankful for our blessings and what we have, and I realized that although my heart is broken, I am very thankful for the life of my Prince. To have had the joy of his existance for 20 years, to have been hugged and held in his strong arms, to have watched him in the process of becoming a man. They werent always good years, but I always loved him deeply and fully. I feel priviledged to have been given the honor of being his Mom, although he was taken from me too soon. And I am thankful for the realization that this life is really not all about me and my pain, that I have this other beautiful human that I brought into this world and I am equally blessed to have him.

So please take a moment on Thanksgiving and think of my Prince, and all of our addicts, and be grateful for them, wherever they may be. Allow yourself a moment to smile and remember better days, and know that you will all be in my prayers and that I am thankful for each and every blogger out there that shares their story.

When you open up your heart and the truth comes out...

Many of my work associates were able to either watch my brief interview online or on television yesterday. Most all of my co-workers who were able to view it, made it a point to stop by and say a few kind words or drop me an email offering support.

I still work in the same office that I worked in when I lost my Prince. Although there are one or two new faces, everyone here knows my story. However, after watching the show yesterday, three of my co-workers came to see me at separate times during the day and each shared personal stories with me of the ways that alcohol or drug addiction has touched their lives.

One spoke of the heroin overdose which took the life of her 21 year old cousins over 30 years ago, and how her grandmother wept for that beautiful boy every day until her own death. Another came to me with tears in his eyes thanking me for having the courage to share my story so publicly, and how he goes to sleep each evening thanking God that he has lived through another day without receiving a call informing him of his own dear cousin, who has always been like a brother to him, has overdosed. Lastly, my boss's assistant came to me and spoke lovingly of her 45 year nephew who is drinking himself to death. He has already done the institutions, prisons, rehabs and what not. His pretty wife had had it and is just mere moments away from packing up their two young boys and calling it day.

It reminded me all over again that I am not alone in this battle, and I was honored that these people felt comfortable sharing their experiences with me, and thanking me for reminding them that addiction isn't a dirty secret after all and my courageousness for going public with the Princes story encouraged them to speak out.

Oh Thank you Mr. Cooper, for giving me the opportunity to open a dialogue. For the first time in a long time, I feel my life may have some kind of purpose after all.

Update.....

I am daring to put this link up to share my segment that I mentioned in my last post... I will not leave it up for long... your thoughts, as always, are welcomed...

Warmly,

Kel

http://www.andersoncooper.com/2011/09/11/my-son-doesnt-look-like-a-drug-addict/

Losing you is like living in a world with no air....

I was invited to be an audience participant guest on A. Coopers new talk show which premiers today. You know- he is the guy from C- N- N.... LOL Forgive me for being cryptic, but I try to keep my blog private from my friends and or family so I can speak as honestly as possible here. Although I do not post with regularity, I do write a post almost daily in my head. Even if I rarely write it out. This blog has been a place for me to share my pain of living with an addict and ultimely loosing that battle with honesty and speaking from my heart. I would like to keep it that way.

That being said. I get the opportunity to speak with Mr. Cooper for a few moments and briefly talk about losing my Prince. It premiers today in the NY area at 4 pm on PIX. Not sure where it will air in your neck of the woods, but if you get the chance to tune in, I would love your imput, afterall, you guys have been my backbone and lifeline for many, many years. And I thank you from the bottom of my heart for always being just a few clicks of my keyboard away...

I don't need to fight, to prove I'm right...

During my 45 minute commute to my office each morning I enjoy listening to the silly morning show on the top 40 pop station. I often find myself laughing out loud to their silly antics and jokes. I find this a good way to start my day off in a good mood by smiling and laughing in the car alone, and it tends to put me in better spirits and makes facing my work day a bit more pleasant.

In between the silliness and the news and traffic and commercials, they do play the top pop hits of the moment. Most of the songs sound the same to me, and I rarely give them much thought, tolerating the synthesized music until my silly friends come back on the air. However, hearing the same catchy songs over and over, the words begin to register and you become aware of the content.

Today I realized the top songs being played over and over are by the same few so-called-artists... the top sellers and money makers of the moment. Two of these songs are catchy drinking anthems. Lyrics include: "Cheers to the freakin weekend, I drink to that, let the Jameson sink in." or: "Yeah we danced on table tops, then we drank too many shots, think we kissed but I forgot". Another of my "favorites" includes the line "before I leave brush my teeth with a bottle of Jack".

Really? I am not trying to deny this generation their right to have a good time, I am not going to deny I did my own share of bar hopping and partying when I was a kid. However, in order to get a lot of air play on the radio, does the music have to be laden with stories of female debauchery, drnking till you pass out or get arrested and random hooking up with strangers that y0u wont remember? I know it happened when I was young and it happens today and it will happen in twenty years from now. Yet, is it OK that the rockstars of today are young women singing the praises of this behavior? Are there no more real "artists" out there that can actually play an instrument and write a song with meaning that will give you goosebumps and stay with you and will stand the test of time?

When the young shy girls looking for acceptance and a place to belong turn on the radio and hear these songs, are they getting the message that in order to have a good time and fit in you must go to the clubs and drink yourself stupid? I certainly hope not. And seriously... when did I get this old???

Wishing you all a wonderful and safe weekend... and hey.. lets do it without brushing our teeth with a bottle of Jack... just sayin...

Not much? How 'bout you?

Lying in bed Sunday evening unable to sleep, my mind, as always , vacillating between the problems I am currently having with my younger son; and what went wrong, why was my Prince taken from me? Out of the hundreds of thousands of addicts out there, on that particular evening why him? What have I done to deserve so much pain in my life? Why me? And it occurred to me for the very first time ever... who am I to question God and his will?

I believe I may have had a breakthrough...

Did you get what you deserve???

Thank you Dear Tori for commenting and inquiring about my son and I, it gave me the inspiration to put up a short post. Something I have been meaning to do for a while. I am still here every day reading your blogs and sometimes even leaving a comment. I am so excited to see my old faves- Mary Christine, Lou and Pammie are back in the blogging business. Just makes me feel better.


It is 17 months today that my Prince has left this world. The pain is still overwhelming. He is still the first and last thing I think about everyday. There are still moments that take my breath away when I realize he is really and truly gone. Heroin. Really, it kills. Do not doubt it for one moment.

My little Prince, spent 30 days in a residential facility. Since he has been home he has been splitting his time between living with his father and I. In the earlier days it was more with his father because he was lashing out at me and we really could not get along. He stayed clean for about 3 weeks after but has now been testing positive for marijuana. In his wee little brain he still sees nothing wrong with it. It is really quite exhausting. He is failing his sophomore year of High School. It has not been an easy year, or couple of years for that matter. But I am doing my best and I am still getting out of bed and trying to function in the real world. I try not to wear my pain on my sleeve, cause really, at the end of the day... no one really cares any way...

You no my name....

So. yeah. You can follow me on twitter if you are inclined to dial into my pathetic life in 140 characters or less.... @kellyny1968 or something like that.

I couldn't walk and I tried to run...

Last week, at a restaurant, I was asked the dreaded question, "Do you have any children?" I squirmed and hesitated a bit before looking over at my date for some reassurance or maybe just some assistance before the woman asked again, "Is isn't that difficult of a question". I then explained my situation. She was apologetic and after the moment of awkwardness passed, we went about the business of enjoying our meal. I didn't go on the share with her that my younger, only existing child, is currently locked away in a rehab facility 400 miles from my home. Friday night I was feeling a bit sad and weepy about my current situation and reached out on the FB to a friend of mine that I met at the cemetery where both of our children are buried. Within an hour, she and another MOA (Side note: In our case we use this acronym to mean "Mother of and Angel" but I have seen it referred to Mother of an Addict in our corner of the blogshpere, but technically I am both. Can you say Epic Fail.) had arrived at my house tissues in hand to help me lift my spirits and feel better about who I have become and how I have landed here. Sometimes though, I have to remember the blessings in my life, like the gift of good friends that have walked in my shoes and who love me and understand.

Another mother's broken heart is taking over...

I forget the warm feelings I find after receiving comments on one of my posts, from others in our little corner of the blogshpere, and I thank you, I forget how much comfort I once found in blogging regularly.

Received a phone call this morning that a bed will be open for La Petit a week from Tuesday at the residential facility we are looking into. It is over 4 hours away and we have no guarantee that the insurance will authorize treatment until he is physically at the facility and they do an intake. Another week of keeping him on lock down. It will not be easy. But then again, nothing ever is.
The weekend was drama and stress free other than the fact that he is getting anxious and wants to go back to school and he wants to see his friends.

This all still feels like a bad dream. I still find it difficult to accept the fact that the Prince is dead. At times, it will hit me like a brick and I can literally feel the air being forced from my lungs and breathing can be difficult. And I have ask myself, did this really happen? Is he really gone? Has it really been more than fourteen months since I have layed my eyes on him or spoken to him? Will I really never see him again? And the pain is just too much too endure.

Imagine me, Taught by Tragedy...

I know it has been a while since I have posted, but I am still around reading others blogs each day. I have so much to share and just cant find my voice, perhaps because what is left of my heart is being broken again from my youngest son.

I guess you could say I am the mother of an addict redux. Part 2? Again? My youngest son, La Petite, starting doing really poorly in school last year after the death of his brother. He was never a great student, but we figured he was just really falling apart from his loss. We all were. Late in June, he came home after being out with friends and he was obviously drunk and high. Knowing full well not to engage or argue with an inebriated person, I put him to bed, and kept a close eye on him all night.

I went through his phone and made some calls and was told by some of his friends that he had been smoking a lot of pot. They were concerned. I was shocked that I didn't pick up on it. I'm usually pretty good. We put him on lock down until he was to leave from sleep away camp a few weeks later.

He did well all summer while away at camp and shortly after starting his sophomore year, he started cutting classes and we found out he was again smoking pot. We cut him off financially, making him brown bag his lunch. I found a large Ziploc bag hidden in the bathroom filled with pot. Money was going missing. At this point I realized, I simply can not live with another addict in my house. He went to live with his dad. A week or so into that, he found some sleeping pills and pain pills that had been prescribed to my ex husband and took a nice handful of them. He was a mess. I would almost say it was an overdose. We got him into an outpatient program that meets twice a week and also requires attendance at AA or NA meetings.

Fast forward to February and the present, he has been dropped from his Spanish class, for cutting it so often. A class he has taken for the third time that is a requirement for graduation. He is failing 9th grade math for the second time, also a graduation requirement, and Biology the second time around isn't looking so good either. He is one cut away from being dropped from his Global Studies class as well. Opiates show up in his urine screen.

I am assuming he must be involved in dealing on some level because he has no access to cash, and he is still managing to be high all the time. Through out all of this I have been working with the Special Ed department to get him classified and placed into an alternative learning program outside of the district. I pull him out of the public high school because all he does is get high there, we decide its time for residential treatment. I am working on that right now, its not easy, insurance companies do not want to pay and I don't have $10,000 cash laying around at the moment. Beds for adolescent males are scarce.

We have him under 24 hour supervision. He stays with his grandparents during the day while we are at work. In the evenings he is either with me or his dad. Last night he asked his dad if he could sleep at his grandmothers house. We both kind of saw that as a red flag as he had asked to sleep at my house last night as well. But my ex is exhausted from sleeping with one eye open watching over him every night so we figured what could happen, he has been on total lock down.

Sure enough, my in laws call my husband at 10 o'clock last night saying that the Little Prince is high as a kite, totally out of it. Turns out he stole some DXM based meds from the supermarket during the day. Never say never.

We are hoping for a bed any day now. Its just so outside of my realm of thought that he would mess around with this stuff considering we buried his 20 year old brother just 14 short months ago. Cunning, Baffling, Powerful, Indeed...

I'm not running from...

Last night I went to an event that was being held by one of the bereavement groups that I attend that is designed exclusively for parents who have lost children. A woman (who also happens to be a medium), led the group of approximantely 125 bereaved parents in a guided meditation. I do believe it is the first time I was ever able to successfully mediate. Perhaps it was the overwhelming feeling of sadness that had enveloped the room. Or the profound feeling of belonging that I feel when I am surrounded by a group of people who "get it". Those who have not lost a child, simply can not understand. They think they do, but they do not. However, the enegry in that room last night was overwhelming to me. A group of desperate parents looking to each other for comfort, support, guidance, I dont know, just looking to each other to say, "I understand". I wondered to myself if this is how the alcoholic feels when they finally find the rooms of AA Or the loved one of a alcoholic when they discover Al-anon.

Ironically, I have finally found the place where I fit in, a place where I belong, and that is with a bunch of people that have suffered the same devasting, life altering loss that I have.

It's not always so good to be home.

That part of me left yesterday...

Blogging used to be a place for me to come to talk about my sons struggles with addiction and substance abuse. It is here I connected with other parents of addicts, sober bloggers, and al-anoners alike. Some of those bloggers remain, some have gone. A select few I remain friends in the real world with.

I don't know what to say here anymore. I still read your blogs every day although I do not comment often. I see there are alot of new parent of addicts blogs out there, and I am not sure if my story can help or hinder their progress in their journeys. My story did not have the ending I had hoped for.

That said, I am still here, I am still in pain, and my son, the Prince is still dead.

Nobody told me there'd be days like these...

Today I am celebrating, or really, NOT celebrating my first birthday without my Prince. Last week would have been his 21st Birthday. We had a small memorial at his grave as his headstone was in place a few days before, I passed out balloons and sharpie pens and we all wrote a message to him and launched the balloons in the air simultaneously. I invited his friends and my family back to the house for dinner. We made the best of a bad day, I asked that everyone dress in white and we celebrated his life. This is all entirely too painful. This never should have happened.

If Heaven and Hell decide, That they both are satisfied...

Accidental Acute Opiate Intoxication

That is the final, official cause of death on the corrected death certificate. Last night I also received the autopsy report. Knowing my son died from an overdose is difficult enough without having to read how the Medical Examiner sliced his chest cavity open in the "typical Y formation", and sliced through each of his organs and detailing the condition of every organ in gruesome detail. There were no surprises, in fact other that the whole shooting-himself- full-of-heroin-until-he-died thing, he appeared to be in very good health. However, there are some things a mother just shouldn't know.

Four months ago today, my Prince was still breathing. Four months from approx. 1:15 a.m. tomorrow, he took his final breath. I am constantly thinking of what else I could have done, could I have done something differently, and there is n0thing. It breaks my heart when at the end of the day, I know that he, and he alone, was the only person capable of saving his life. And quite honestly, when he made the decision to start shooting into his veins, I do believe that his life was over, and the decision was made for him.

It frightens me to read how powerful the addiction to heroin is. How strong the pull. How so many addicts never get free from it. And it frightens me even more to know that there is really nothing that I can do about it. I feel powerless. I know I can speak out, and give interviews, tell my story, tell his story, speak to other parents, and write to my congressman. But the bottom line is there is nothing anyone can do when an addict puts that needle into his arm. Only he can push the syringe or not. It is their moment. And I can not change that.

>The addict does not know the wreckage he leaves behind. The lives destroyed in his path. He gets to rest peacefully while every painful day is the first day of the rest of our broken lives. The sadness in my home is palpable. There is no longer joy. I know with time, we will learn to live the new normal, our new life without my Prince. It will never get better, but they tell me in time it will get, different. Its already different. And not in a good way.

I've been wallowing in my own confused and insecure delusions...

When my Prince was alive and still in school or rehab, this was one of the days I dreaded the most. April 20th. or 420 (four-twenty) as the kids referred to it. It is some kind of weed smoking reference, I never got the full story. I just knew it was a day that the pot smokers celebrated by excessive marijuana smoking.

There were other days I also dreaded when he was in his teen years. That would be every day. My head is still not working properly. I will ask my younger son the same question 4 times in the 6 minute drive to his high school. It disturbs him. I try to explain that I am just so distracted since the Prince passed away and I am hopeful that in time it will get better. In reality, I do not know if I really believe it.

I do not hold my Prince up on a pedestal in his death, although it often too painful to remember the early years of his addiction, but there are certain moments when it comes crashing into my consciousness and I am reminded of an incident. In his final year of high school he was still going to the intensive outpatient rehab program. He was dating a junior from his home district. She was a lovely, beautiful girl. She was drug and alcohol free. She never minded coming to the house to see him since his program did not allow him to leave the house unsupervised. She invited him to attend her Junior Prom as her date. I was hesitant and very reluctant to allow him to attend. The "program" did not think it was a good idea. I faltered and decided to trust him. She was a good girl and she I know he did not want to risk losing her. I took him shopping and bought him a nice suit. He matched his shirt to her beautiful red dress. I was going to drive them to the prom, and her mother was to pick them up.

Two days before the prom, his weekly urine test turned up dirty. For opiates. He snorted heroin for the first time. Money turned up missing that week and I subsequently found it hidden in his room. I refused to drive them, refused to allow him to attend the prom. He went anyway. The next day I went apartment hunting. I had reached my limits. I was not yet in a financial position to afford an apartment while my soon to be ex-husband and the Prince lived in the house while I tried to sell it. Not to mention the fact that they would have killed each other. The solution was that he would go live with his grandparents. He lived with them until the moment of his death. He died in their house.

I think of all of the blogger buddies that I have followed and who have followed my story through these years. I am sad for the ones who have left us. However I am grateful for the love and support I have found here. I pray for your children that are still fighting their demons and addictions. And I miss my Prince with every inch of my being.

Cause your the only song I want to hear...

Sometimes I feel as though I am still in shock and that my son is still alive. As though we had an argument and we are simply not speaking as opposed to him being gone. We had some really lovely weather this past weekend, a weekend where he likely would have been starting to do some work on his small boat to get it ready to put in the water. I kept waiting on the phone call for him to ask me to help him finance some kind of expensive boat repair. The phone call never came, and it never will.

I am mourning my own loss. The loss of my child, the flesh of my flesh. However, more profoundly, I am mourning his loss. The loss of the life he will never live. He was twenty years old. He will never get married and he will never be a father. He will never again spend lazy weekends fishing on the little boat he loved so much. He will never again go to a concert, or a baseball game. He will never have the opportunity to vote for a president. He will never again have the chance to get dressed up and take his lovely girlfriend to his office Christmas party. He will never stand up as Best Man when his little brother takes a wife. Gone are the days when he will call me and ask to come over and bar-b-que some steaks with his special secret marinade.

The sadness and pain of this loss is more than I can bear most days, and I am thankful for the body's ability to protect itself by keeping me a little bit numb so I can function on some level and get through most days. Sometimes the anger overwhelms the sadness and I want to wage a war against someone. To make a difference. To get this shit off the streets and away from our children. And that is just what I intend to do, one baby step at a time if I must...

Already Gone...

The last few months of my life have been surreal. There is no other word for it. The loss of a child is like nothing I can describe to you. It is pain that you feel to the very depths of your soul. Yet, life around you goes on. You must go on. I still have a mortgage to pay so I still have to get out of bed every day and get dressed. I still have another child to raise so I don't get the luxury of just completely shutting down.

Most people, can not relate to the pain of losing a child. I hear often, that it is the most devastating loss a human being can go through. It is unnatural, unfair, perverse, against nature. I have since noticed, often times, once the initial shock of it wears off, it is easier for those around you, to pretend it never happened, or to pretend you don't exist. It becomes the 600 lb gorilla in the room. I experience this often.

Perhaps I am just becoming cynical, but I often feel that some people could perceive the death of my son as brought on by himself. I have known of at least 2 or 3 deaths by heroin overdose in the months prior to the death of my son. After those deaths, I have also overheard people whispering things like "just another dead junkie".

The deeper the thoughts, theres no more pain...

The Prince called me on the Thursday afternoon before his death. He had begun working in a sales position for a rather larger company since some time in November. He was doing well and loved the work he was doing. I always believed that sales jobs were perfect for drug addicts because they have the gift of knowing how to get the means to the ends. They are natural salesman, having the ability to talk their way into giving you what they need from you. But I digress.

He called Thursday afternoon like he called every other day. We had been trying to make plans to see a limited exhibit at MOMA. We discussed going that weekend and were deciding which fabulous place they wanted me to take them for dinner. We hung up with the understanding that we would speak again the next day to finalize our plans. That would be the last time I would ever hear his voice.

He and his girlfriend were inseparable. For the most part, they lived together. Mostly they stayed at his grandparents house, where he lived. Occasionally they would sleep at her grandmothers house, where she lives. Thursday night, his girlfriend was not feeling very well and after spending the day with her friend, decided to spend the night at her house instead of going home to him.

What happens next is sketchy. He and a friend went out for awhile. Supposedly to meet someone at the mall. They then went back to the Princes house to watch a movie on Blue-Ray on the new TV he got for Christmas. The friend left around midnight, the Prince said goodnight to his grandparents at around 1 a.m. When they tried to wake him at around 730 the next morning he was gone. The police said it was instantaneous, that it happened somewhere around 1:15 a.m. The tourniquet was still tied to his arm.

His phone record show a phone call to the GF at 1:08. A few text messages go back and forth earlier in the day between the Prince and the friend he was out with discussing the need for "clean spikes" and the Prince asking the friend if it was possible to "shoot xanax". I don't know how long this was all going on and honestly, I guess it doesn't really matter anymore.

Heroin is epidemic where I live. A bag of heroin is cheaper than a six pack of beer or a pack of cigarettes and easier for our children to get their hands on. Heroin, was never the Princes drug of choice. I am still in a state of shock and disbelief. I am still numb. I can not believe I will never see him or hear his voice again.

This is the end, Beautiful Friend....

The Prince

Kenneth Charles

June 16, 1989 - January 8, 2010

My beautiful son, Kenneth Charles, the Prince, lost his battle with addiction last Friday and left this world for the next. He overdosed on heroin. I pray he is finally at peace with himself and will now find the peace he so desperately sought. I pray for all of you on the god awful journey we are on.


May he rest in Peace.

The first post of the year....

I have not smoked a cigarette in six days. Yay for me. As a result of said six smoke free days I seem to have lost my taste for coffee and wine. Is it possible to have given up all of my vices in one day? Not even on purpose? Is it possible all of my addictions were caused by my smoking cigarettes? I know, I know, not possible, but psychologically, I have had no interest in coffee or alcohol since New Years Eve. This is not like me. At all. Maybe it is because I have been really really concerned with my alcohol intake of late (this is not a great secret) and maybe the not smoking thing has lead me to a better path? I am not going to fool myself into thinking I do not have a problem just because I have not wanted to have a glass of wine, but maybe it will keep me on the clean and sober page for a while.

Which leads me to my next stupid question. And yes, I am being honest when I ask this... What exactly do you do to socialize that does not include alcohol? (I'm guessing since I have to ask this question, my answer should probably be: Go to a meeting!)

So Happy New Year and wish me luck...

The Last post of the year...

I rarely blog on the weekends, and practically never from home. But today, I just felt like reaching out to my blogger peeps and extending my best (belated) holiday wishes to you all. My holiday was lovely, but not not without issues, mostly of my own doing. I dont feel up to sharing it just now, but I know I have to make alot of changes within myself, and I need to do it quickly.

Wishing you all a healthy and Happy New Year!

When your mind breaks the spirit of your soul

I have been seeing the nice man who I went on a date with a few weeks ago. He is gentle, fun, generous and kind. He likes me. Alot. That scares me. Alot. I am trying to explain to him that I need to take it very slowly. That I was not looking for a relationship right now, that I was actually planning on taking some time to myself and work on reconnecting with myself after all that I have gone through the last few years. He is responsive, but keeps saying the "we" word. Like how "we" will remember that our first movie together was a little dark and twisty. Things like when "we" go here or there, etc. I am happy to date him and spend time with him, but I am not ready to be a part of a "we" just yet. Tomorrow I have the day off from work and we are going to spend the day together, going to drive out East and do some Christmas shopping and a nice lunch somewhere. I am sure it will be a pleasant afternoon.

The Prince got a job as a stock broker trainee. He started yesterday. They were to pay for his training and the courses for his Series 7 exam for 8 weeks. He found out an hour after he got there that they would not be paying him until the test was taken and passed. He walked out. The "man" who hasn't worked since early June, said he can not possible go eight weeks with out a paycheck. I took him shopping and spent $300 on work clothes over the weekend. He says it is OK that I spent all that money because now he has interview clothes and plans on having another job lined up by next week. He has three other interviews set up in the next few days. He called me last night and asked me if he should tell the people interviewing him that he has other interviews lined up, you know, so they would offer him more money. I tried to gently tell him that the jobs he was interviewing for were entry level, most likely minimum wage positions and he does not have the experience to use that kind of leverage.

It still hurts that he has no clue about the real world. That he has no education, no marketable skills and that he will have a hard time getting a job because he can not pass a urine test. He still has so much growing up to do. And I don't see it happening any time soon.

He and his father have no relationship. His father only sees him in passing when he is at his mothers house (where the Prince lives). His father has a pretty good relationship with our younger son, La Petite. Much better than I ever thought possible. He sees him regularly and they do things together, La Petite looks forward to spending time with him. I know this hurts the Prince. His father never taught him the things necessary in life to be a man. How to mow the lawn, how to paint a wall, how to tie a necktie. I have tried my best to both mother and father to him. But I see it pains him that his father doesn't want to be a part of his life. His fathers love for him is not unconditional. I know the Prince has caused us all so much pain, but at the end of the day, I still love him deeply, even though I can not allow him to live in my house, and I know I must keep him at a safe distance to protect myself.