By Bella’s Mom
I am a sixty-year-old Jewish doctor, and my daughter is a drug addict. I’m happy to say she’s alive and thriving, but not too long ago, I was afraid I would have to prepare myself to bury her.
When my daughter, Bella, was midway through twelfth grade, the school counselor called me into a meeting. She had been skipping classes, and they suspected drug use from what they were hearing. We put a tracker on her car and phone, we questioned her, we grounded her. Before I could figure out what to do next, she was arrested by city police for shoplifting. Then, by the end of that week, she got kicked out of high school for vandalism.
It was a wakeup call. Before all this happened, I had to admit I was in denial. I believed my daughter was struggling just like all teenage girls do. Now I was scared to death and found it hard to wrap my head around what was happening. She had been seeing a psychiatrist and taking meds for ADHD her whole life. She had been in counseling since my divorce when she was young. She was in a private school with accommodations. I had been doing everything I knew to do. In truth, I was angry I had to deal with this drug problem now, too.
When Bella was released from jail, I took her to the local public psychiatric hospital. The doctor recommended outpatient care at first. Once she got kicked out of school, they directed us to a ninety-day rehab program. I searched online first, not knowing what to look at. I was lost and so confused. I ended up sending her to a program they recommended.
At the same time, the hospital counselor said something very important: Addiction is a family disease, and I needed to go to Al-Anon.
Going to Al-Anon then, and still going now, has changed my life.
I had no understanding of the disease of addiction, how we got here, or what to do now. I was scared to death, anxious, guilty, and ashamed. Most of all, I was confused about what to do next. Who could I talk to? My parents blamed my parenting, my rabbi had no suggestions, my friends gave me advice that was all over the place. I could barely sleep or work. I was so distracted.
In Al-Anon and a family recovery program, I came to understand my parenting did not cause this. There were working moms and stay-at-home moms; kids in public school and homeschool; wealthy and working class; permissive parenting and restrictive. We were all in the same boat. I was able to let go, over time, of my guilt and shame. I did grieve, though, for the illusion I had of my child, the dreams I had for my child’s life.
I faced the fact that addiction runs in our family, so she is genetically predisposed. Her poor self-esteem issues and anxiety led her to self medicate. She never felt like she fit in. She felt emotionally abandoned by her father. The circumstances of my divorce created stress in her life, and her wiring led her down this road. In high school, her friends kept changing. She spent more time alone in her room, and she wouldn’t talk with me anymore. These were the circumstances of her life. I was doing the best I could. I was not to blame. I had no control over her choices.
I learned this child needed to be parented differently than the others. When my daughter slid back and deeper into drugs, shooting heroin at college a year and a half later, I was better prepared. Denial was still there, until it got too crazy. Coming home with the flu every few weeks, which I now know is opioid withdrawal. Having her things stolen or lost, which I now know were traded or pawned for drugs. Finding things missing from our home, like jewelry and cash. Frequent car accidents and blowing out tires.
Being lost or abandoned at night in bad neighborhoods and calling for a pickup.
With suggested resources from other Al-Anon parents, I was able to choose a recovery program I believed could help us—the Insight Program, an Enthusiastic Sobriety program with locations in Georgia and North Carolina. With the support of its staff, my husband and I confronted our daughter. I had no control over her behavior, but I had choices about mine. I came to believe that anything I provided to my daughter to keep her safe—a meal, some cash, a bed—actually was contributing to her using drugs for one more day. I could not keep her alive. She could overdose up in her room as well as out on a street.
I finally chose tough love, because I could not live with the daily dramas and anxiety. We took her phone and her car, which belonged to us, changed the locks on the house, and gave her the choice of rehab or a bus pass. Her choice was help or homelessness. She knew I was serious this time. I had defined my boundaries for my mental health. I couldn’t take the craziness anymore.
She chose help. She was belligerent and defiant. The drugs were in her system for months, distorting her thinking. The pain and anxiety she had been numbing out with drugs were in full force. She had a tough road to recovery. We emphasized that she had to choose the life she wanted for herself. We couldn’t live her life for her. She made that journey and is the wiser for it. She understands her struggles and where she gets tripped up, and she has tools and strategies to cope. She found through the recovery community that she was loved for exactly who she was, no matter how that looked.
The wisdom, faith, sponsor support, and tools of the twelve-step program of Al-Anon got me to this point of influence in my daughter’s life. I had to let go and get out of her way. I had to have faith that a loving God was looking out for her, that she has her soul’s journey to make. I learned loving detachment. I learned to live in the moment, not futurizing disaster that might not come or rehashing past moments with guilt or shame. I learned to take care of myself emotionally and spiritually. I learned to be grateful for what was and appreciate the small daily miracles. I learned to live my life joyfully, regardless of my daughter’s choice. I found a community of parents who understood and did not judge me by her actions.
Teasing out what is parenting and what is enabling my child was the most difficult lesson I have ever had to learn. This has led us both to be independent of each other, yet have a close adult-to-young adult relationship we both treasure. She can call for advice and then choose to do what she wants. My happiness is not dependent on her actions.
Bella has completed college and is working in an industry she loves. From completing the twelve steps, I am emotionally and spiritually healthier than I’ve ever been. I am happy and content in all aspects of my life, whether there are challenging circumstances or not on any given day. We have grown our souls through this journey.