When my son didn't arrive on the bus that was to bring him home for Father's Day, I drove an hour to his city, right to the crackhouse (somehow I KNEW he was there) and I knocked on the door. When they told me he wasn't there and shut the door, I told them to open the door and send him out or I would kick it down!!! I'm a lady incapable of kicking down doors but my voice must have told them I meant it and my son came out.
I went back to his apartment with him and spent the night on the couch and when I left for home in the morning, he returned to the crack house.
On the drive home, I had to pull over because the tears were blinding me. I sat at the side of the highway and just told God: "I give up, I can't do this anymore, he's all Yours".
That was the end of my insane behaviour and the beginning of my true recovery. I've never regretted "giving up and letting go", it was the beginning of my new life, one that was worth living.
Good thread, Passion, and it's good for me to remember the pain because I know that I will never ever have to go there again.
Hugs