Wash. Rinse. Repeat. It’s a vicious cycle.

My 25 year old is using again. 💔

Fighting with his gf/wife (married but not legal 🤷🏼‍♀️). 

No job. 

No housing. 

Pandemic unemployment allows them to get a motel room. 

No support from parole or addictions counselor. 

What’s the point of parole if they’re not going to hold him accountable for violations?

Abusive towards wife and me when he’s using.

I’m trying to remain supportive but not enabling. 

It’s a struggle.

She (who has no family support) keeps calling me. 

Wants me to rescue him.

I *can’t. 

Not that I don’t want to. 

She thinks he’s in danger.

I find myself in the position to deal with my worry and grief and try to support her. 

I can’t. 

It’s too much. 

I (think I) sound callous when I tell her to call 911. 

When I say I’m not driving over there to get him. 

When I turn off my phone at night. 

I’m not immune to her worry, but I can’t bear her angst and grief along with my own.

My prayers for him are just for him to be healthy and productive and know that there is a wonderful life available to him when he’s ready for it. 

The emotional toll is great. 

This is an intolerable dynamic we face as mothers. 

How can you turn away?

How can you accept that it has to be him that wants help? That you can’t save him or wrap him in your arms and make it all better. 

There are no good systems to help these adults who are emotionally and mentally not able to take on adult responsibilities due to addictions and trauma and mental health issues. 

The corrections system is a disaster. 

Social service systems are ineffective, underfunded and have no authority. 

This is a vicious cycle of pain and attempts to clear the pain with drugs, not being able to sustain employment, housing, relationships... any intervention by a parent just enables the dysfunctional behavior- yet it’s untenable to watch your adult child be homeless and at risk.

I can’t save him.

I can’t watch him destroy himself.

I wrote this a a rambling diatribe to release my overwhelming anxiety. I did not pretty it up as a blog post. I’m not capable of cleaning it up right now, so here it stands.

Regrets might come later. 🤷🏼‍♀️

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