TheOneAndOnly

Hi, I'm new to this site but unfortunately the addict lifestyle is old hat for me at this point.

My brother is a heroin addict, or really whatever he can get these days. He's been using for at least 8 years and we've been through the cycles more than I care to remember. I'm aware his addiction is his and I cannot help him anymore. That was a really hard fact for me to understand for the first few years. I remember the anxiety, the panic attacks when the phone rang and just the random daily phone calls from my parents about nothing...they just wanted to take their minds off of him for a while. Each cycle I detached a little more and a little more to where now, I'm pretty non-emotional about it. That is the part that worries me now.

In the early years I just couldn't understand why he couldn't stop. I mean how many times does it take in rehab, detox and emergency rooms for you to get that this is a bad idea? I would be told he was an addict he can't help it but that's the problem with addiction the addict and the person are the same. They slip in and out of each other its hard to understand why the "person" would still go along with this.

I can't even tell you how many rehabs he's gone to and it was always like hopefully he stays 3 days on the fourth day you pray for a week. At the week you're just taking it day by day until, holy crap he made it 30 days, maybe he's getting this. Then on day 32 hes back on the street. He's even done the full 6 months at the Salvation Army and I watched him get his 1 yr chip after that...he relapsed 2 weeks after.

I'm aware death is a very real option in this reality. It's becoming more of a reality given his current actions that its probably more imminent then before. While I am effectively detached when do I deal with him dying?

My father explained to me early on in terms that I understood that he is basically a cancer patient who's treatments keep failing and right now he's on hospice. That analogy was the best thing to help me detach and understand his current disease but still I wonder when do I prep for death?

In dealing with cancer patients at some point grieving happens when the patient is still alive. I feel that there are some points in my life I have grieved for his death though he was sitting in front of me. My brother, the person, has effectively been dead for 8 years and I've only had glimmers of him since. I'm aware he's been replaced by the addict but still his shell looks like my brother and in all other ways is technically still my brother. I almost wish he was a cancer patient, it would be an easier fight at this point.

When do I become comfortable actually being the only child? I find it ridiculous to be completely detached that I don't care if he dies, of course I do. I'm just aware there is nothing I can do about it. Honestly, I hope he goes to jail so he would still be alive and I still technically wouldn't be an only child. It sounds self-fish but there is always a small part of me that has hope for him. I think all addicts families no matter how bad they are still try to have some faith that maybe they'll find the higher power.

I sit here and hope all while knowing the phone will probably ring...and I'll be officially the one and only child.

EnglishGarden

My exabf was an addict from age 13 to 34, from weed to alcohol to cocaine to heroin. At 34 he got clean and stayed clean for 16 years. I'm not sure if he's still clean, as he had a cycling accident that put him on morphine and shortly after that his personality changed so much that we separated. I have been no contact for 19 months.

He worked a program, sponsored others, held a demanding professional job, and raised his children, participating in after school activities with them and sitting at PTA and school boards.

I'm certain that no one in his family ever expected him to do any of this and waited for him to die. But he didn't.

So I hope you can take a deep breath and allow your brother to live out his destiny and find some peace that whatever that may look like, it is his life, his lessons, his path, and that there is purpose to it, even when it seems surely there is not. We cannot know what larger plan is unfolding nor how his life is making a difference in others. There are, for example, many addicts who--though on the surface should perhaps have never become parents--made beautiful beautiful children who grace the world.

Is there a Nar-Anon group in your town?

Ann

What you feel is not uncommon for people like us who have watched our loved ones self-destruct for years.

My son overdosed twice at home and if I had not been there he would be dead today. Yet he is still lost out there in his addiction. We haven't heard from him in 8 years.

I have grieved the loss of the son I used to know, I have grieved the loss of the son who is so sick with addiction, and I have mourned to loss of "what might have been".

Should I get word tomorrow that he has died, I know my heart will break into a million pieces all over again. I shall mourn and grieve and pray that he is now at peace somewhere.

For today, I say a prayer each morning and give his care to God. I cannot go through each day living in fear, in grief, and in loss, so I dealt with the pain and today I live well, embracing life and all it's beauty. It really is a lovely world out there, and the darkness of addiction remains a place I shall not visit any time soon.

I will keep your brother in my prayers. And you too. It really wears us out to love someone lost in addiction.

Hugs

EJG123

It's not too soon to grieve. As the parent of an addict, I've watched my D slip away and mourn the loss of everything that addiction has taken from her.

crazybabie

IMO, most of us have starting some type of grieving process already after all we have lost the person that we knew them to be before.

We have experienced Shock & Denial, Pain & Guilt, Anger & Bargaining, Depression, Reflection & Loneliness just a few examples.

Many of us experience these symptoms over and over until we get our own help and possibly some after I have no clue about that because I am still going through some of the above stages.
What we can have is some Hope.


What we should not do is let that hope run our lives. I am guilty of some of the above stages and am currently working on that. When I first came to SR I came because of my AS,later I had 2 AS,now I have 1 AS an AH and a son who is a few months clean.

One of my children (the one that is currently clean) He was a cancer patient at age 12 I did not grieve, I did not give up, and thanks to God I still have him. I did worry, spent as much time as I could with him etc...

IMO, most people who know a love one has a terminal illness are still not prepared when they lose their loved one from the illness.

AH and I are currently separated it has only been 11 days but feels like forever and yes I am having some feelings similar to those of grief.

I also will be keeping your brother and family in my prayers.

Kindeyes

Your post touched my heart. It could have been written by my own daughter about her brother.

I have grieved a thousand deaths for my son. His lifestyle is scary and dangerous. I love him but he has become as noxious to me as the chemicals he puts into his body are to him. And I'm tired. I'm tired of worrying. I'm tired of grieving. Grief is not meant to be something that goes on indefinitely.

I lost my father in a small aircraft accident about three years ago. One day he was alive and vibrant. The next day he was a mass of crushed bones, blood and gore. I didn't expect it. It was sudden and jolting.

I was afraid for a very long time to let go of my son. I didn't want to feel that JOLT IF (and if is the big word) I got a phone call telling me that he was dead. I dreaded that JOLT. I dreaded the element of surprise. So I held onto living my grief daily so that I wouldn't be caught off guard like I was with my Dad's death. I thought....if I expect it, it won't hurt as bad. But the truth is that I was feeling that jolt every single day. And it was sucking the light and energy from me. And instead of hurting WHEN something happened, I was feeling that pain every single day just in case it did happen.

I finally had to let go........I have detached. I have accepted that I am not my son's savior. I'm simply not that powerful. He is in God's hands. And I am living my life. I pray daily that God with watch over him and deliver my love to him. I have accepted that I may not like the way God elects to teach my son his lessons but I will accept it. I have come to terms with my son's death but not it's timing. I am learning to live my life again because living in an indefinte state of grief and fear is not living.

My dear daughter was one of the first to detach from her brother. I love her so much. She showed me the way and I will be forever grateful to her for the example of healthy detachment that she demonstrated for me.

You, your parents, and your dear brother will be in my prayers.

gentle hugs
ke

outtolunch

This is one of the better reflections of the defence mechanisms that so many of us put into place in a feeble attempt to protect ourselves from the pain of caring for someone deep into addiction. And unless someone has lived it, they cannot appreciate how active grief can overshadow everything, if we allow it to do so.

Along with accepting I did not cause it, can't control it or cure it, was the comprehension that my daughter has no obligation to meet my expectations and hopeful fantasies of how her life should be lived.

Chino

When my daughter was 6, she spent a week in the hospital with a raging fever. They sent her lab work to the CDC because they could not identify the culprit. When she was 12 she was accidentally shot by a neighbor. The bullet missed her heart by 1/4 of an inch.

When my dad was 52, he had his first heart attack and a triple bypass. Before any of these things, I had attended at least 20 funerals for friends and family. Some were classmates who died way too young.

When my dad died, I grieved for 4 days then celebrated his life. By the time my daughter's addiction began, the only thing I had left to grieve were my dreams for her.

My daughter has chronic hep C. Though she's been in recovery for two years now, she may very well die before me. I've already done enough grieving for several lifetimes. What I am left with, is gratitude for each precious moment of life.