When drugs and alcohol nearly killed Susan's teenage son, she had no choice but to find the strength to take him to rehab, a decision that changed his life and her own.
Susan's Story
My relationship with my son when he was young was magical. He was such a happy kid. I loved him to death. Then, about the time he turned 14, everything started to fall apart.
"I kept telling myself it wasn't real."
For the next four years my son abused alcohol and drugs. Everything I tried to do to stop him didn't work. I would drive by his school to see if his car was there. I would go through the trunk of his car for signs. I found empty baggies, a lot of eye drops, but I couldn't confront him. There was just so much denial. I kept telling myself it would all go away. Even when he got arrested [twice in the same night] I told myself it was only happening because he was hanging around with the wrong kind of kids. I couldn't admit that maybe he was the wrong kind of kid.
I can remember being at parties with other mothers and they would be commiserating about SAT scores and colleges. And I just wanted my child to get home safe that night. It was the biggest secret in our town and in my life. I was convinced no one else had this kind of problem.
"I'd always thought if I loved him enough he would stop."
Finally, I met with a counselor. She told me my son was going to die if we didn't do something immediately. I think deep inside I knew all along it would come to this. I just needed one person to tell me. When he walked into that rehab and the doors closed behind him it was a relief. I'd never seen such anger on anybody's face. It was also very difficult for me to accept that my son needed professional help. It felt like a total failure on my part.
"Now I love him enough to let him live his own life."
Because of the rehab, my son went into therapy and I went into therapy. I also went into a 12-step program. I realized that what I thought of as mothering was really enabling. My biggest failure was not allowing my son to suffer the consequences of his actions. I had to stop trying to be his friend. I think what I would like to say to parents is something very obvious: "You're the parent, not the best friend." And I had this darling little baby who was my best friend, who I enjoyed. I mean, I relived my childhood through him, with parks and playgrounds and doing all sorts of fun things. In those days, I had to keep him safe and grab him if he started to go for the street. But when it came to the drugs and the craziness, I couldn't take a stand. I wasn't the good, strong parent when he needed it. My relationship with my son now is marvelous. I can't really say that I'm doing too much to keep him on his path. I just love him enough to let him live his own life.
