instructions for mothering an addict

Alex Colville, 1954 Horse and Train

pray often. whatever that means to you
try to get enough sleep, even though usually you won’t
put your own oxygen mask on first, you cannot help anyone if you fall apart
don’t give up. never, never, never give up. don’t give up especially when that’s all you want to do
learn to ask for help, and then learn to accept offers of help
keep living your own life, try not to feel guilty about the times you do things you enjoy
when it feels as if the world is crashing down on and around you, take one small step, then pick another small step and keep inching forward no matter how difficult
try not to be angry with people who do not behave as you would like them to. they are doing their best, and sometimes their best is not what you wish it would be
tell him you love him each and every time you talk to him. especially when you are frustrated and don’t want to. tell him you love him because life is short and uncertain and you never know if it will be the last time you will talk to him
do not curl up into a ball and give up, even though the heartbreak and the stress is more than you think you can bear. Bear it, if not for yourself, then for him, for you other children.
only let a select few see the pain you’re in, do not fall apart in public, cry when you’re alone in your car, in your bed, when no is there. the rawness will overwhelm most people and they will back away
do occasionally bring his clothes home, wash them, dry them and fold them, do not think about how you used to do this when he was a little boy
remember all the reasons for not letting him live with you, the relapses, the broken promises, the unbearable behaviour. remember these when all you want to do is wrap your arms around him and bring him home
do not listen to the song Bring Him Home unless you are alone so no one will see you cry
when you pick him up at the shelter, do not dwell on the dilapidated building, the sorrowful residents. sit with him in tiny hallway where tired mothers carry crying children, sit there till it is his turn to apply for medicaid
take him to pick up his antipsychotic medications, and while you’re there get him toothpaste, another toothbrush, sunscreen and antiperspirant. say yes when he asks if he can have gum when you are in the check out line
give him the money so he can take you out to lunch for mother’s day. order extra food and give him the take out containers to take with him. thank him for lunch.
buy him clean clothes from time to time and throw out the ones he’s been wearing for two weeks straight
do not picture him on the shelter floor on a thin pad while you are on your comfortable couch, or your warm and safe bed. thinking of this will only eat you from the inside out
when the enormity of what you have to manage becomes too much, it’s okay to put your head down on your desk and close your eyes, but you must lift it back up again and keep going
when he asks to come home, say no, even though your chest aches, and your eyes are filling with tears, say no, and tell him you love him.