Well, I can't tell you how sad I am as I write this. Last Sunday, with my daughter telling me she has to 'own this' and asking me to dump the hidden bottle, was such a hopeful moment for me. I literally said a hundred thank yous to God (should I have said 1000?). The week went well, and then she came home, yesterday from class. I could tell by the look in her eyes. (No, I didn't ask, "Did you buy alcohol" I used my new code phrase system: "Is everything okay?" --did you buy alcohol?; "Is your day going well?"--are you sober?; "Are you feeling okay?"--are you thinking of buying alcohol? I'm not sure if she understands the code, yet, but that's what I do) Anyway, I looked at her and asked her if she was okay. She paused and then said that she had stopped on the way home and bought a bottle (maybe she does understand the code). (my heart sank, but was also a little hopeful that this may be different, because she didn't hide it, I turned and saw it on the night stand, and she didn't lie to me about buying it). So, I didn't panic. I sat down with her on the bed and talked about it. I could tell by were the liquid line was on the bottle that she had already had her first drink, so I wanted to talk with her while she was still able to talk.
In as calm a voice as I could muster I asked, "Can you tell me why you bought it?"
"Because I heard some of the other kids in class saying they were going out to the bars, tonight."
"And you were jealous that you couldn't go and drink?"
"Yeah"
"So you're wanting to have that same experience, alone, here, in your room?"
"I want to feel normal."
"You are normal for the most part. You just can't drink."
"I know and it makes me upset."
"Why?"
"Because that's what everyone does."
"But they're out with each other. You can go out and not drink."
"I'm too shy. I'm not as out going. Alcohol makes me outgoing."
"And passed out in your room is outgoing?"
"I don't have to think when I drink and pass out."
"Sweet heart, don't you see how this 'lie' you're drinking is robbing you of your life?"
I could see her eyes getting heavy. "You have so much life, a good life, a head of you if you just stop drinking. It's the drinking that has given you all of these regrets. I love you, and it is so painful to watch my child do this to herself."
"I love you, too." And she fell asleep.
I said a prayer over her and then left her room. I had such a feeling of hopelessness--that she will never recover from this, and it is breaking my heart. I think part of my problem is that I pray, and still live in fear. I don't think you're supposed to do that. God doesn't give the spirit of fear, right? How do you keep faithful and hopeful when there is so much darkness? It is morning. I heard her moving last night, but she is sleeping now. I have a meeting, tonight, that I am looking forward to going to. I am planning to get out, today, and just do stuff, so that I don't have to think about this. I don't know what else to do. This numbing hurt can produce such cloudy thinking. What I prayed last night was: "God, please take her home or heal her, but do it today, because I can't take this limbo anymore." Was that a lack of hope, or the beginning of letting go? Did I pray the right prayer?
In my experience this is a very long process, especially for young people. The lonliness is a HUGE obstacle for them. I can't think of anyone in my circle of recovery...online and real life, who said, "I quit" and then never relapsed again.
ReplyDeleteShe is so painfully honest and your girl is in so much pain it sounds like. She is articulate and sharing her heart with you. Those are blessings! Do not give up hope. You are not in limbo. Your daughter is an alcoholic/problem drinker. That is where you are at today. It may be many years before she finds sobriety....or it may be tomorrow. The goal for us mom's is to find peace and serenity whether our kids are doing well or not. I used to think that was impossible. It goes against nature. Until I finally got the concept that I am not in control of my daughter. All I can do is surrender to the process and put her into God's hands for today and let Him take care of her. I am here. I can facilitate, help as needed and as is appropriate, I can give what I can and what does not impede her progress....but really the journey is her's. Not mine.
Bless your heart...I know its so hard. I am praying for you both.
I need to keep a box of kleenex by my computer, because these tender and compassionate responses bring tears to my eyes. I am choked with gratitude for such loving advice. Thank you.
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