I do not know where to begin. I do not know much of anything these days other than it is time for me to come back to where it all began, here on the blog.
As I write this, my 26-year-old son, just landed in Richmond, Virginia.
Nineteen years ago, my son and I decided to make WA State our home. I was a young mother who had a young son. It was time for new beginnings while leaving the past in the past. Although life was never easy for us, we made it work. We always had a place to live, food on the table, and the bills were paid. There was never much left for extras, but it worked.
Over the years my son was pretty vocal about not wanting to communicate with his biological dad. I understood and never really pushed the issue. My son knew that if he were to ever change his mind “Just let me know and I will find out how to get you in touch with him.”
Somewhere over the last 19 years, my son lost himself, and drugs entered the picture. I still have no answers. According to my son, everything is, was, and will always be my fault. I try to tell myself “It’s just the drugs talking” but at this point, I do not know, maybe he is right?
Sadly my son saw things he never should have seen. I got wrapped up in a pretty abusive relationship. Maybe that had something to do with it? Over the years, after three failed serious girlfriends and more drug abuse, things just got worse. He was unable to keep a job (my perspective, he will tell you differently) and just latched on to the drugs even more. (again, my perspective. He does not believe he has a drug problem)
The last time he had a job was August of 2019. My husband and I were supporting him (enabling?) and always hoped for the best. We knew he had it in him, I just do not believe my son thought the same.
It got to the point where we had to ask him to leave. He went to go stay with his childhood friend, and then because (as it was told to me) of the drugs, they had to kick him out.
Somewhere in between my son decided to reach out and connect with his biological father. The same guy who abandoned him nineteen years ago. There was never any phone calls, birthday cards, Christmas gifts, nothing, and now, in the span of a week, my son left us and went to go live with bio-dad.
I am at a loss. I am hurt. It feels like a slap in the face. There was no goodbye other than “I am out.”
I have no idea what will happen. Best case scenario, VA will work out, and he will get his life on track. Naturally, I have my doubts. In the end, I need him to be okay. I need him to be alive, and I need him to make things right with his siblings. I hope and pray he will find himself in Virginia, but who knows? Drugs and the addiction that comes with it is an evil thing. And, unless someone realizes there is, in fact, a problem, then the cycle will just keep repeating.
The saddest thing for me is knowing he is gone. Knowing that when I go outside to run errands I am not going to see him walking up. Knowing that when my front door opens it will not be him. Knowing that late at night when I hear someone rummaging through the kitchen cabinets, it will not be him, and knowing that maybe in some small way he is right and everything is my fault.
Last night on Facebook, he posted a selfie of him and one of his long time friends. He had wonderful things to say about her, and to be honest it was a very sweet “goodbye” post. However, the two things that struck me, even gave me chills, was how happy he looked, and how much he looked like me. I do not believe I have ever seen either.
His eyes sparkled and his smile was as if I was looking at my own. I do not know. I do not know much of anything these days other than I need to go back to where it all began, with my oldest son. I need that person back. I need that smile and the sparkling eyes, and as hard as it is, if that means Virginia is the answer, then I just have to ride the current.