What Craft doesn't address
I'd been using CRAFT, and things seemed better... but then the relapse.
My son had been using Facebook to sell expired drugs to other children. He went on a bender with DXM to evade drug testing. He has mastered the narcissistic skills of lying and gaslighting women, and his social workers and psychologists are women, and when we went to them with this new information, they said the missing piece was that we needed to be in group, but they don't have one for us yet....
Thank GOD his day-to-day counselor is male and an ex-addict and didn't buy the "abusive parents taking away his computer because he didn't do a good job in the garden" story. However - the drug treatment program he is in (and it is excellent) - has barely begun, and he is about to get thrown out. They cannot have children who deal drugs to other children. They won't help someone who doesn't want help. And my son cannot make up his mind whether he is willing to get help or not.
I live in a house where we have to put locks on doors, and then safety glass on those same doors, as he was caught using tools to remove the locks to get into the room where his asthma medications are held, and where we keep money and credit cards. Our purses and wallets have to be guarded, or he will simply take what he wants. We have had to take away his computer, his cell phone, hack and shut down his social media accounts because it is not a matter of if the drug dogs are coming to my house, it is a matter of when. My son still cannot make up his mind.
And now - at 17 - a very young 17 - I need to make plans to send my son away. His father doesn't really want him, but I cannot live like this anymore. My heart is breaking. I have taken so much time off work that my business is failing. I live in fear of the next theft, that he might kill someone else's kid, that he will mix the right combination of drugs and simply drop dead. And I have been saying this to his drug counselors, white-lady-college-liberal syndrome all (by the way, I am a white college liberal) - and they seem to think I have munchausen syndrome, even after I dropped a case of confiscated and dangerous drugs found in his room on their desk.
I live in Italy. His father lives in California. When he goes, I may never see him again. I cannot afford to fly home, his father... well - his father abandoned us in the first place. His father has a new family. His father has always refused the heavy lifting. His father lives in the Heroin and Speed capital of California, and my son already knows the drug dealers in his father's town - because the last time my son was there, his father did not supervise him.
My son was the apple of my eye. Sweet, kind, compassionate, intelligent, beautiful. I am watching him die before my very eyes... I look into his blue eyes, and I see a lizard staring out at me. My child, whom I failed because I was never strict, never unreasonable, never spanked, always explained....... he accuses me of being abusive, a bitch, a tyrant, crazy.
My heart is broken. I am out of optimism. I cannot reach him. I probably have to send him away. I cannot just watch him die.