Bloom

‘And the day came when the risk it took to remain tight in the bud was more painful than the risk it took to bloom’

Anais Non

I read this saying years ago and every time I read it again it has new meaning for me. I came to an impasse of sorts in the last couple of weeks. A new level of ‘madness’ and understanding at the same time. A new level of letting go.

My 35 year old son has had a propensity for using substances since he was a teenager. Four years ago when his twelve year marriage ended, he moved to a small basement suite, COVID emerged and his school district job was put on hold, he became very lonely and depressed. He started using substances regularly and things quickly spiralled out of control.

Since that time we, as a family, have done everything we could to help him get back on track, but he is on his own journey. He has been in and out of treatment, in and out of jail and on and off the streets. The son that I knew has seldom surfaced in four years. I see him but he is changed so much I hardly recognize him. Physically, emotionally, mentally. I see the deterioration and it is so painful.

I continue to tell my son that I love him. I continue to say that I will not support his substance use, but will always support a decision for recovery. He accepts and understands that. He has distanced himself to some extent, but agreed to call or text me once a week to let me know he is alright. Until last month he followed through.

After fifteen days of not hearing from my son I was certain something was terribly wrong. Fifteen days doesn’t seem long for an adult child not to be in contact, but because of our agreement I was worried. I ruminated, I lost sleep, I was triggered by the phone ringing. I had all of the ‘feels’ you have when your loved one with substance use disorder falls off the radar. The ringer on his phone was dead and he didn’t answer my texts. I called the hospitals and he had not been admitted. I called Outreach services and they looked for him but could not find him. I was panicked. So I drove the 90 minutes to the city where he was, photos of him in hand. I brought a friend and we searched all day. In the pouring rain we checked shelters for the unhoused, drop-in centres, overdose protection sites, parks, areas where the street was lined with tents and people were injecting openly. I talked to the police who were standing by while a body was being removed from a tent and thought to myself ‘is it my son?!’ They wouldn’t say, but encouraged me to put in a missing persons report. I was concerned about doing that because my son had not had good experiences with police, but the young officer was very kind and I had run out of ideas so I followed his advice.

Approximately one hour later I received a phone call from my son. He was just a few streets away. His first words were “Mom, you called the police?” I reminded him about our agreement and he advised me that he had lost his phone and just got a new one yesterday. I told him about my day. We talked briefly and he asked if I would like to meet his new girlfriend. I agreed to meet, hugged him when I saw him and we had coffee. He said he had warmth, a bed and food. I was so relieved.

On my way home I reflected on the day. I saw myself standing in the rain with tears flowing, showing everyone I met a photo of my son and asking if they had seen him. Some said ‘I hope you find him’, others didn’t respond. One man told me that if I just kept my son at home this wouldn’t be happening. That’s when the tears began to flow. He was right of course, but he had no idea what that entailed. No idea how many times that was tried.

With the vision of myself standing in the rain I contrasted it with the vision of my son hanging out with his girlfriend, oblivious to my panic. On his own journey. I realized that it was not him that was causing me so much pain, it was myself. I allowed the fear to build in me and the feeling of helplessness overtake me. I was in fight or flight mode and I went with it. I let it lead me to risk my (and my friends’) safety and well-being in order to find my son......for what? To convince him to change his lifestyle? After years of this chaos I am not that naive. Nothing had shifted for him. I was the one traumatized. When I arrived home I was exhausted, physically and mentally. It took me a couple of days to feel some energy again.

I believe there is learning in everything that occurs in our lives. I have always felt such a lack of control of my son’s journey. I rode the roller coaster of chaos with him and did not know how to get off. The desperation I felt when I believed he was missing propelled me to realize that I could not sustain that feeling and maintain my sanity. That if I did not take the risk to ‘bloom’ and learn from that experience I would not be well and able to walk in my life, support others and be there for him if/when he needs me.

Sometimes life lessons are so difficult, and sometimes we have to look outside of ourselves to get perspective. I may not have any control over my son’s journey, but I do have control over my own. I want to allow myself to feel, but making decisions to put my safety and sanity at risk is not wise or helpful. For him or me.

So today I choose to bloom, to learn, to grow. I make no promises for tomorrow, but I believe that the woman in the rain wants me to protect her.

Wanda LeBlanc, MSTH