I hear this question a lot. I have read articles posing this question. My mother asked me this question and people from my blog have also asked this question. I cannot speak for anyone else but for me and my situation.
It is easy for parents to take the blame for their child’s behavior and think that they did something wrong. I guess it’s that parental instinct or maybe it’s guilt. I don’t know. I had to tell my mom years ago. It’s not your fault. The choices I made had nothing to do with her or something she did or did not do.
I was raised in a home with love and affection. I was properly raised with respect, care and concern and to know right from wrong. I went to school, I know how to read, write do arithmetic among other things. My parents did a great job raising me.
They weren’t prepared for and couldn’t understand why I chose to do the things that I did. I had to let her know.
It’s not you. It’s me.
I made the choice to do the things I did. I made the choice to run with the wrong crowds and to experiment with drugs and alcohol. I knew right from wrong. I was taught that. I was warned against using drugs and hanging out with the people that I chose to call friends. I made all of those decisions. Albeit bad decisions they were still all my decisions.
I had to make her understand that no matter what you did or tried to do. It wouldn’t have made a difference. I was searching for something that I thought was missing. Searching for my own identity trying to figure out where I fit in. I was on a mission and the more she tried to help the more I resisted and drifted further away.
I didn’t know then what I know now about my addiction. I still know very little but can share my experiences so far and some of the connections that I am making along this journey in recovery.
I was suffering from addiction long before I ever picked up my first drug or drink. I suffered from low self esteem and a nagging sense of being a misfit. I thought I knew what was best for me and even when what my parent’s said came true. I couldn’t admit it. I wouldn’t let them see that they were right and I was wrong. I couldn’t and I wouldn’t admit defeat. Even at the high cost of my low living I still fought tooth and nail to the bitter end.
No matter what anyone tried, said or did. I would not listen or stop. I had to come to a point of complete defeat and want the help. That was a decision that I had to make for myself. No one could make me stop until I was completely ready to do so for me. That is how I finally made it to recovery. I just couldn’t take the pain any longer. I couldn’t stand myself anymore. I was truly sick and tired.
I made a decision.
I asked for help.
I say this because a addict will not stop using until he or she is ready. Not because of anything else.
Recovery is an inside job.
Peace and Blessings