It’s been a little over two years since I learned that my daughter had become a heroin addict. She’d been using for 8 years, she said.
I’d known something was wrong. She’d stolen from us. Big time. She’d stolen all the gold jewelry my husband had given me since we married, 16 years prior.
She’d stolen and pawned the old coins my dad had left me when he died.
And, I would learn later, her father had given her nearly $8,000 over the course of one summer.
When I first learned about my daughter’s addiction I was terrified. I hadn’t been much of a drug user myself. Heroin scared me. I pictured needles and Billie Holiday and gaunt, skeleton-like beings with chains on their ankles.
I’ve since learned her addiction was for “street” heroin. It was snorted, easier to get and more affordable.
I Thought I Could Recover For Her
Looking back, I see now that I thought I could recover for my daughter
I mean, that’s what I did. As a people pleaser, I wanted to live your life for you and then show you how, with my help, we could live your life even better.
It was kinda crazy, huh? It was insane.
Then, after a while, I thought I could lead her to recovery.
Then, I just decided to bring recovery to her. That’s when we had mini-12-step meetings in my living room in the mornings, before she went to work. (When she was staying with us)
I wish I could tell you that my daughter is in recovery now and has been sober xx months, but I really don’t know what her status is.
I do see her and I talk or text regularly, but it’s usually when she wants something. She quit her job recently and I know she’s looking for another, but I don’t know where she is with her job search.
I am working on accepting her just where she is. That’s hard. That’s a challenge.
Thanks for listening!