My child became an addict in his teens, lured to drugs and alcohol by a culture that glorifies substance use–the same culture that now, so ignorantly and harshly, passes judgment on him. And me.
I am judged for helping, fixing, and pushing (or not helping, fixing, or pushing enough) this sick child of mine who won’t be helped or fixed or pushed. I am judged for over-reacting and under-reacting, enabling and letting go. Most hurtful of all, I am judged to be a mother whose love must be somehow flawed.
When my child became an addict, I became the mom of an addict–a role I wasn’t prepared for and certainly didn’t want. It’s a role the whole world seems to have an opinion about, whether they know anything about addiction or not. Whatever I do (or don’t do), I am judged to be wrong, but I no longer pay attention to that. I just keep doing what I’m doing, with love.
“Judge tenderly, if you must. There is usually a side you have not heard, a story you know nothing about, and a battle waged that you are not having to fight.” ~Traci Lea LaRussa
Today’s thought from the Hazelden Betty Ford Foundation is from the book Tending Dandelions by Sandra Swenson.