Guest Blogger: Pam Katchuk
Addiction Is an Equal-Opportunity Employer
I was wrong, just so wrong. I believed addicts were people who didn’t have self-control. They were poor, had no loving family, and lived in tough urban areas. I would read stories in the paper about an overdose death and think, “I’m so happy that my son will never be an addict. My son is a happy, straight-A student who is an artist and violinist, lives in a nice home, and has two loving parents. He even won first place in the D.A.R.E. essay contest!” And I thought it was all because I provided such a good environment for my son. What a great parent I was! My attitude was pompous, incredibly naïve, and judgmental. It was a fantasy world, a world in which many people live.
Andy’s dad and I buried our only child on February 11, 2011 at the tender age of 22. He died of a heroin overdose.
It was a painful descent from “parent of the year with a perfect son” to “grieving parent of a heroin overdose victim.” It happened slowly, insidiously, and along the way, I set a new standard in enabling. It’s not like there weren’t any signs. Around age 17, Andy became moody, quiet, distant, and sometimes downright nasty. I chalked it up to him being a teenager. Then he started skipping school and suffering from panic attacks. We sent him to therapy, but he didn’t like the therapist, so very little progress was made. A year went by, and now he was 18. We begged him to see a different therapist. He went a few times but didn’t want to do the hard things that she wanted him to do. And since he was now 18, we couldn’t force him to go. The panic attacks stopped, but none of the other things did. I grilled him and asked if he was taking drugs. Of course, he became indignant and denied it all. Boy, was he convincing. I actually walked away thinking that maybe I was imagining things. I now know that I didn’t want to believe that he was taking drugs. Denial ain’t just a river in Egypt, as they say.
I thought if I could just love him enough, he would be ok. He was going to college on and off and getting stellar grades, so he must be fine, right? He became very thin. He was thin by nature but he got even thinner. I would tell myself that I was that skinny when I was his age. But it was becoming clear he had a problem with drugs. I begged, I guilted, I raged, and I loved, but nothing worked. And the worse he got, the more I enabled him. I was going to save him with love. I spoke to him many times about 12 step programs or rehab, but he scoffed and told me I was blowing everything out of proportion. He wasn’t going to admit to anything, so I began going to a support group. It taught me that I wasn’t helping him by making it easy on him, and all it really did was help me.
Then Andy’s very close friend died of an overdose. It jolted us all into the harsh world of reality, and he got honest with us and told us he had used heroin recreationally. That’s how it started, but it doesn’t take long to become an addict. He went through an agonizing cold turkey withdrawal. We were beyond shocked. We thought he was using something, but how could he possibly be using heroin? We went into high gear. He went back into therapy with a counselor that he clicked with. He was going every day. Slowly, our real son came back to us. The demon that had taken him over was gone, and we got our boy back. He was in college getting good grades. He was happy and optimistic. Looking back, I am so grateful to have been given the gift of that wonderful time with him.
But then, one night six months later, Andy introduced me to a friend I had never met before. The boy had a bad energy, and I took an instant dislike to him. I didn’t say anything but I was planning to have a serious talk with Andy the next day. When I went up to his room after work the next day, I found him dead. I was too late. From the evidence, it looked like he had been pulled back in for “one last time.” Sadly, that’s exactly what it was.
My beautiful boy was gone. He wasn’t a bum. He wasn’t neglected. He lived in the suburbs. He wasn’t poor or weak or stupid. He was loving, intelligent, kind, and deeply loved. He was a good boy who got into something he didn’t know how to get out of. I paid the ultimate price to learn what the face of addiction really looks like. It is my life’s mission to remove the stigma and misinformation surrounding addiction and to work for compassionate care instead of judgment and fear. Truly, addiction is an equal-opportunity employer.