When you have an adult child who is also an addict, telephone calls are not your friend. They range from the desperate ‘I need money RIGHT NOW’ calls to ‘I’ve been arrested’ calls.
A ringing telephone can still bring tears to my eyes.
Last year at this time, my biggest fear was that my son would die. I felt the best case scenario was that he would go to jail and get clean.
That’s some fucked up shit when your biggest hope is that your child is incarcerated. Happy fucking holidays.
This year? This year is MUCH better.
My son moved out around Thanksgiving and has been doing just fine on his own. He called me a few days ago to ask me if I wanted to go play Bingo with him and his girlfriend.
I have no idea why THAT particular call gave me more comfort than anything else that has happened in his life over the past year. The NA meetings didn’t give me as much comfort. The full time job didn’t give me as much comfort.
I just can’t reconcile my son the junkie with my son the Bingo player. They are truly two different people.
My way of responding, of course, was to ask him when he turned into an 80 year old woman. This is how we show affection in my family. We hang shit on each other.
I’m happy that he’s settling into his adult life. I’m thrilled he invited me to spend an evening with him and his girlfriend. They are even going to make me dinner.
I guess this means I’m going to play Bingo this week. Wish me luck, I could use the cash.
Maybe I can stop hating my phone so much now.