<div class="ubbcode-block"><div class="ubbcode-header">Originally Posted By: Wombatina</div><div class="ubbcode-body">Dear Stands,
When your difficult child calls and tells you how scared he is, I'm sorry, but he's playing you like a cheap fiddle. You know what he's scared of? The party ending.
The thing that has the body of your son and speaks to you with the voice of your son is not your son, it's the drugs. It's like one of those science fiction movies about pod people, he's not in there. A hostile alien is making him do the terrible crimes and lies and manipulations, and you don't have to answer that monster or love it or do anything with it, because it's not your son. Maybe he's still in there, way in the back somewhere, or maybe he's gone. We have no way of knowing. Maybe he can find the strength to come back some day, or maybe this is it. Only time can tell. Everybody did their best. If anyone on the street, any of your neighbors or friends or relatives asks about him, you hold your head high and tell them you did your best and if they can't deal with that, if they think they have the right to judge you, then they're not worthy of being with you.
From now on, this is your mantra: you are a good parent. You are a good, wonderful, loving mother. You did your job as well as you possibly could. Do not believe the lie that there is something more you need to do for your son, because that time is over. His failures are HIS, not yours. We all try our best and sometimes our efforts make no difference and it wasn't our fault because it wasn't GIVEN to us that this person, with their own separate mind and thoughts and will, would come out okay. We never know. It's not entirely up to us, just as we might get a disease or be in an accident and that wouldn't be our fault either. Sometimes we receive sad, hard luck. That is why you get to stop trying to fix the unfixable now. You get to have a long, long rest. Have a good cry and hug your PCs and your husband and your new sister in law tightly, because thank g-d, or whoever/whatever your higher power is, that at least they're well. They are your gifts.
Collect your diploma. This phase of your life is now over. Believe it or not, you graduated. It's time for the next thing and trust me, it'll be a lot better than this last one because this terrible weight has been taken from you.
Much love and prayers and everything positive I can possibly send to you,
Wombatina
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Wow.
I loved this post so much I am quoting it in its entirety.
Welcome, wombatina.
I love the name, too.
Barbara