#mysonismyworld

[an-tagen-wie-diesen0]

Mein Sohn, mein ein und alles, mein allergrößter Schatz, mein Wunder ✨

10.01.22

[crazymomsstuff]

[frogsdoingyoga]

🐸 This is a pic of my pet frog. His name is Jared short for Jared Kleinman 🐸

[autismmother714]

My Boy excited around Halloween session. So sad no trick or treating this year. So bummed one of our favorite time of the year.

[stephanator02]

Talking to ppl about self care is like a joke these days that they dont have time for.

But you can do self care anytime.

When you get up in the morning watch yourself get dressed in the mirror.

Tell each part of your body that you normally hate what you love about it instead.

This belly held my baby for 8 wholes months. It was his first home. And I'm happy it allowed me to do that.

The stretch markes and wrinkles are battle wounds and scares. Proof that I was able to endure the siege they call labor. Proof that I am still fighting the war of time.

These arms have allowed me to carry many things these legs have taken me far. Now these arms carry him my legs are comfortable supports. It's all for him.

I know secrets now that I didnt know before. It all comes back to you. My son. You are the one I'm a warrior for.

[3611295]

My son

He's waiting for his date. Where's he anyway?

[narcan-revival]

My name's Patrice and my son's a Heroin addict....

My name is Patrice, and my son is a recovering heroin addict, among many other things. He struggles daily with a disease called, addiction.

In 2007, it became clear that my son, James, was struggling with alcohol and drug use. That was the year he entered his first treatment center. James came from a very loving home, and was given many opportunities for success and such throughout his life. When we became faced with the reality of his addiction, we were intensely frightened, which was compounded by our lack of knowledge about addiction and how to best help our son.

Twelve years later, my son has been to over 20 different treatment centers. We possess boxes full of paperwork from treatment centers, books on addiction, legal papers relating to his encounters with the law, bills, past due notices from medical facilities that took care of him, etc., etc.

What was it like during those twelve years????...

It was a Nightmare on Elm Street, that was riddled with various levels of intense anxiety—fear that burns in your chest with the impending notion that a drug dealer will kill my son if he doesn’t pay his debts, or that my son will overdose on the drugs he is using. Obsessive thoughts that my son would relapse, causing us to have to find yet another treatment plan that would bring hope and success. Worry that literally gnaws a hole in your stomach as we, the family, worry every minute of our wakeful day, fearing something awful has happened to our son. Waiting, waiting, waiting for a phone call or text from my son, validating that he was alive. Obsessively monitoring my online Verizon call list every day to see if my son had any phone activity, which would bring brief relief that he was hopefully alive.

Never planning a trip or vacation more than a few days out—because, what if something happens to James?

In the early years, before I fully understood the disease of addiction, I would obsess about taking my own life, in the hopes that maybe that would have a profound impact on James, leading him to want to stop his destructive path of drug use and all that goes with it. I loved him more than I loved myself. I wanted to help him in any way that I could.

I felt isolated, and couldn’t share my story with my friends at first, mainly because of their lack of knowledge about the disease, and I found it exhausting trying to catch them up on all the information that took me years to gather.

I found my greatest support in the recovery world, from families that were also struggling with a loved one. We were juxtaposed in similar situations—treatment centers, medical facilities, courts of law, etc. I have met some of the most wonderful, loving, supportive, helpful, and nonjudgmental people (addicts and “normies” alike) these past many years. They have given me the most relief from my anxiety, and have helped me clearly see that I can not make James sober, no matter how hard I want to. He has to want to do it for himself, and I have to accept it if he doesn’t—even if it means the worst. I have heard many sad stories about a great number of

struggling individuals that have died as a result of their disease. My heart breaks for them and their families.  

In the early years, I had no idea that this would be a lifelong struggle for our son. I’ve had to read many books in order to educate myself. I realize, now, that 30 days in rehab is usually just a brief hiatus, and, ultimately/unfortunately—a waste of time and money.

This is a lifelong process, and the longer someone can stay in a supportive community, statistically—the better their chances are at long-term sobriety.

I am grateful, today, that my son, James, has over one year of sobriety, and is carrying out a healthy and happy lifestyle in a supportive community. I love him so much, and am so proud of his hard work. I pray, as I do everyday, to God, thanking Him for never giving up on my son, James, and I ask that He please keep him safe from himself and others.

Today, I feel like I can breathe, while enjoying my life and my family. I have also started planning some trips—months in advance—with just a small amount of underlying anxiety.

[waste-a-weigh]

Guys I can’t get over how perfect he is