Thank you for sharing the story about Moms going to war. I would like to share what happened last summer in my family if I may. I cried that evening as I stood there with my friends circling me. I was praying and my church family was praying with me. After being in denial for so long, my son had finally agreed to get help. Marijuana and alcohol were vices my son had turned to when he returned from Iraq. I noticed the changes immediately, a once charismatic young man now withdrawn from family and friends, nightmares that brought cries in the night, and headaches and irritability that would not stop.
He turned to marijuana and alcohol in hopes that he could forget, that he could just mellow out until he passed out. Still, there were times when his new companion (PTSD-Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) kept him up.
I was terrified he would do something to hurt himself. He talked of suicidal thoughts and how he did not deserve to live when others had died. The headaches got worse and I turned to many organizations to try to get him help from the V.A. to the media. Eventually, he agreed to see someone and we found out he had a closed head injury. That was why the headaches had started that day in Iraq when the explosion rocked his vehicle.
Once David found out he wasn’t “crazy” as he kept thinking, that there was a physical reason for his headaches and mood swings (although the PTSD alone was self-explanatory in a combat veteran who went to a war zone as a teenager), then he began to see that he needed help to get off the marijuana and alcohol.
That was last summer. Now he is taking life one day at a time. He is in therapy and slowly regaining his confidence in himself and trust in other people. He is dealing with survivors’ guilt and knows that it is a common trait among war veterans who have lost friends in battle.
The post on here about moms going to war is accurate. Many times I wanted to go after the people in Iraq who were hurting the children and other innocent civilians and who hurt my son and killed his friend. I am grateful he made it home and I do not take my days with him for granted. Even now, as I worry about his bad days that he still gets sometimes it is uplifting to read a story such as the one shared here. It is reassuring to know that I am not alone in having felt like that.
We moved to Arizona when I was thirteen. I hated leaving my old school but my dad was in the military and when he gets orders, we move. I did not know anyone but eventually became friends with a guy down the street. We began hanging out at the basketball court and the base pool over that summer and eventually I started looking forward to school in the fall.
One night he told me he knew where we could get something. I asked what and he said, “You’re kidding, right?” Not wanting to seem like a baby, I said “Yeah, dude, just messing with you.” We went over to a friend of his who’s mom was out partying that night and I got high for the first time. My anxiety about a new school and making new friends disappeared.
Over the next couple of years, my grades were acceptable but not at the point they had been. My dad kept telling me I could do better. My mom offered to get me a tutor. I just wanted to get high.
Then one night as we were riding around, my buddy having just got his license, we got stopped by the local cops. They could sense something funny about my friend and searched the car, finding the pot we had just bought. They arrested us and called our parents.
That was three years ago. My parents were really disappointed in me but they stood by me. They insisted I take responsibility and they got me into a drug treatment program. My dad ended up retiring this year and we have settled into the community.
I just started my freshman year of college and I also help at the drug rehab center my parents took me to three years ago. I am interested in becoming a counselor and helping other kids who find themselves where I was as a teenager. The counselors there seemed to understand and did not put me down while at the same time not letting me use excuses. When we get into drugs, we need to take responsibility.
I heard horror stories of kids who’s parents turned their backs on them or were into drugs themselves. I was thankful even more that my parents were there for me, and it made me want to help those who did not have a strong family unit like I did. My parents are both supporting me in my career of choice and my mom thinks I am going to make a great counselor.
You know, I always assumed that drug addiction meant an addiction to one drug. I learned the hard way that it isn’t always true. Roy was a sweet, albeit “hillbilly” looking man that I dated for a couple of year’s way back when. Roy was sweet, but believe me, I saw the rough side of him too. He was a bodyguard and was always armed. If he believed for a second that anyone would hurt the woman he was protecting, he could be very mean. There was always a crowd of people at the house. There was always a party going on and I admit, I was part of it. The woman Roy protected was a drug dealer. We called her “Ma” and a small group of us always got to party for free. When “the family” was alone in the house, everyone pretty much got whatever drug they wanted. While I preferred to stay with the marijuana and occasionally cocaine, Roy was doing the hard stuff. After a while, I noticed he was not only doing A drug, but several, and drinking.
He never got mean toward me but he did start getting meaner to other people.
Roy was doing acid, cocaine, marijuana and drinking; and that was on the nights he was hitting light. He never got mean toward me but he did start getting meaner to other people. He even started getting dangerous. He would draw that gun on way too many occasions and sometimes with a house full of people. When the group would go out, more than likely, Roy would get into a fight or two. Of course, everyone in the group was at least three sheets to the wind, so we thought it was funny.
When I met Roy, he had a healthy appetite. As time went on, he barely ate. His eyes became sunken and had dark circles. He began to experience some serious medical issues too but wouldn’t do anything about them. This sweet, good-looking man who always called me his wife was becoming a shell of a person and very different from the man I started dating. Well, I was caught up in it too. I did my share of smoking and snorting and did nothing as Roy would down one drug after another. For two years it went on like this. Then Ma started getting in even more types of drugs. The parties continued.
Thank you for sharing the story about Moms going to war. I would like to share what happened last summer in my family if I may. I cried that evening as I stood there with my friends circling me. I was praying and my church family was praying with me. After being in denial for so long, my son had finally agreed to get help. Marijuana and alcohol were vices my son had turned to when he returned from Iraq. I noticed the changes immediately, a once charismatic young man now withdrawn from family and friends, nightmares that brought cries in the night, and headaches and irritability that would not stop.
