- Alcohol
- Drugs
- Faith
- Mental Health
I am a single mom who was raised in house full of mental illnesses and addictions. When I had my son, I strived to give him a “Leave It to Beaver” life. I taught my son early on about drugs and alcohol. As he aged closer to being a teenager, I taught him the dangers of our genetics, that it was very dangerous and that he would not be afforded the luxury of “dabbling” in drugs or alcohol. Everything was fine until grade nine.
My son was a small fish in a big pond, but he wanted to be a big fish. He started using marijuana heavily in October 2010. By November he was sick and experiencing delusions conspiracy theories. I thought, “We have got to nip this.” I took him to a specialist who recognized his need for psychiatric help. We saw the psychiatrist and received a couple of diagnoses which weren’t accurate. The boiling point was February 2011. My son thought the police were spying on him and that I was wearing a wire. He desperately needed help. I got him to our hospital where he was committed and held for eight days with a diagnosis of drug-induced psychosis. He had not been hospitalized long enough to truly appreciate the cause and effect of his drug use, but as I learned about the disease, I was filled with hope that my son could be cured.
The last three years have been filled with disrespect, stealing and stress. I know this is not my son! Since his addiction started young and with immediate mental health consequences, he very much operates at the level of a 13 year old. I’m in Canada, and from the age of 14 and up, our children have the right to make their own choices regarding mental health. It’s been nothing but battles and ultimatums to get him to comply with medication and seeing his doctor. Now that he’s 18, I have the “power.” I told my son he had three choices: Go to rehab, be taken to a youth shelter where he would most likely be committed or be committed. He has chosen rehab. He is working his way through the paperwork as I speak. Hopefully he will be in his six-month treatment program in the next two weeks. I know this is not my son, and I will fight ’til my death to get him back. I try to be positive when people feel sorry for me. I explain he’s a teenager. If it wasn’t this, it would be something else. It could be worse.
At this point I will not put my son on the street although he doesn’t know this. There is a reason for this. When I was 20, I told my father I was getting off his alcoholic roller coaster and couldn’t help him anymore until he was sober. The next time I saw him, he was in a casket. The hole that left in my heart was far greater than the manipulative hurt he caused for so many years. It might sound crazy, but I take a deep breath and believe in God and that this is another path of learning and loving. I love seeing the stories of hope, honesty and encouragement.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart for sharing.