My child has been stolen from me. He’s even been stolen from himself —The Addict has whisked away my son’s very essence. I don’t know if I will ever get him back. I know what he’s like, the monstrous fiend who took my son away. The Abductor is evil, heartless, selfish, and abusive, with a reputation for spreading anarchy, bondage, devastation, and death.
Thinking about the torture my child must endure each and every minute of every day, with every passing year, is torture for me. I try not to allow the images to fill my mind (because they kill me) —but they do. Because they slip right on in with the thoughts of my child that fill my mind each and every minute of every day, with every passing year, too.
The Abductor needs my child, my child’s body, to survive and will fight to keep him all the way to the bitter end. There is no ransom I can pay. There’s no SWAT team on the job. No yellow ribbon tied around a tree.
My child has been stolen from me. There is no end to this hell.
“Imagine trying to live without air. Now imagine something worse.” ~Amy Reed
SAVE THE DATE! Free webinar:
Title: Mom to Mom: Facing the Holidays When Your Child Is Addicted
Date: Friday, December 15, 2017 (Will be recorded for future viewing. Registration required.)
Time: 10:00-11:00 AM Central Standard Time
Today’s thought from the Hazelden Betty Ford Foundation is from the book: