It has taken me some time to process the ‘The Unfamiliar Road’ my son has chosen to take. My first response to his telling me about this choice was not good.
I got angry
I mourned
I thought
I read about it…
And still didn’t like it.
But the truth is even after all of that; it’s not my choice to make.
I tried to fight against it, I told him every CON I could think of while he listed the PRO’s. I couldn’t think of one success story that included this road he was about to take. My lament continued…
He asked me “I need to know will you still be in my corner?”
Sometimes he asks such hard questions. I wanted to say NO. I won’t be in your corner if you take this path. I wanted to demand that he do it my way…
But it’s not my choice to make.
It will never be my choice to make. I’m not the addict. I’m not the one who’s been in Rehab after Rehab still not finding the right door to walk through. Getting wearier and wearier of the process. He needs to find the Road that will bring him to a life of Sobriety. This is his journey and only his.
So after a few phone conversations; I was finally able to say;
“This is your journey, you need to work this and whatever it takes to get you there I will be in your corner cheering you on, even if it is on an Unfamiliar Road.”
I’m so glad it’s not my choice to make.
So true …. It is so hard for us as Mama.s to get to that point
you have so described the place that we all hopefully get to i know i am there matt is 27 and needs to make his own choices and for the last 3 months is on the good road i am just praying he stays on this path
I’ve often use metaphors to make sense of the world of addiction. I’ve told my daughter when she’s ready to “Climb the Mountain”, I’ll be there to cheer her on. I told her to look at recovery as climbing a mountain. At the top and on the other side of the mountain she will find great peace and happiness. Also at the top she will find her family and all the friends she has lost during her addiction waiting for her. But her climb to the top (recovery) is hers alone; no one will be climbing with her. She will not find me ahead of her pulling her up the mountain, nor will she find me behind her pushing her up the mountain. I will not be there to carry her when she get’s tired. But I will be there watching and cheering for her every step of the way. I’ve told her when she feels alone and weary, I will come sit with her for awhile but she must continue on by herself.
If she stumbles and falls, I will not be there to pick her up. I will not clear her path to the top of obstacles in an effort to make her climb easier. She must do it alone this time because in the past I was always pulling, pushing, and even carrying her up that mountain. She has reached the top of the mountain from time to time, but she has never had any incentive to stay there because she never put in the hard work to get there. She never suffered enough because I was always there making the climb easy; she never learned the lesson. She never said to herself “I’m staying here because I never want to make that climb again”.
Today she is on the mountain again. She has fallen and begged me for help; I told her to pick herself up and put one foot in front of the other. Some days I see her move those obstacles and make great progress but other days she walks one step forward and then two steps backward. However, I have great faith she will make it to the top and stay there as long as I stop making her journey to the top easy. I’m not saying it’s easy watching her climb, especially on the days she falls. What mother doesn’t want to help her child when they see them suffering? But I’ve been told by experts I must stop enabling her. My past actions of rescuing her have caused her more damage and has let her remain stuck in addiction. God bless everyone in their journey to the top of the mountain.
Thank you for this. I really needed to hear this today from a parent who is right where I am. I loved this analogy. You have given me a new wind of strength.
I hope others will read this post and receive the same.
Because of Hope.
Susan