My son recently broke his collar bone. The trip to the ER brought a daunting flashback of my hellacious self before I quit drinking.
My exhausted body shamefully slumped in a wheelchair, gasping for every breath and trembling from withdrawal in the middle of an overcrowded room. Alone and ashamed. Eyes fixed to a spot on the floor, my lame attempt to ward off those well known judgmental stares.
In recovery almost two years, I knew better than to allow myself to get lost in that memory for too long. I couldn’t do that to my son, who now more than ever, needed his mother.
Instead, I comforted the one who had never broken a bone. I held his hand as the doctor spoke of surgery. I made decisions about his care, and medical staff valued my opinion. I never once left his side while he underwent one of the scariest experiences of his young life. This never would have been possible as that lost and hurting soul, barely grasping to existence, not so very long ago.
So to the one who sat alone while slumped in the corner of the ER while I waited with my son, with dark sunken eyes and that familiar lost stare, I saw your pain and understand your desperation.
I want you to know that you matter.
And please don’t give up the fight.
There’s hope for a better tomorrow, where you’re no longer alone as addiction steals your desire to live another day.
I know this to be true, for once upon a time, I was you.
Having a life where I’m there for my son in his time of need has been the the most wonderful gift I’ve ever received. And it surely came from a power greater than myself. I once became lost in the depths of addiction hell. But I mattered enough to the One who breathed life into my soul to receive the amazing gift of recovery. And so long as you believe this to be possible, keep fighting and never give up, I know so can you.
A Forever Grateful Mom in Recovery