Matt on drugs; how to love the person and not the addiction

This was Matt on drugs:

In 2007 Matt called me on the phone, desperate, crying, in trouble. His trouble started with a stolen cell phone from a store near his apartment, escalated to a drunk driving, and ended with Matt burning the tracks off his arm in a paranoid frenzy.

I had enough of my 22 year old acting like he was 15.

So, after repeated attempts for him to take his stored memorabilia in the basement to his apartment, I just brought it to his place. This sort of ignited a frantic attempt to stay a child within Matt. He was so angry with me, so incensed that I would remove his stuff. According to Matt, he wasn’t ready to grow up. He really wanted to remain a child in his own eyes. I questioned why, quietly, to myself. Why would he not want his things with him. They were important to him; every scrap of paper with a number, every concert ticket stub, every trinket won from a fair had intense meaning to him. However, my answer from him was that he wanted to travel light and have his childhood home as his refuge.  He just couldn’t get out of the nest. At his age I gave birth, had my own apartment, lived many states away from my parents: all the better I thought. Not Matt. He wanted to come to his childhood home and sack out, store valuables, and just plain be a child still. It was like he never quite grew up.

About a week after I dropped his boxes on his doorstep, around 7 or 8, I received a desperate call from Matt describing how the police came to his door and accused him of stealing a cell phone from a store. I don’t remember the details as he went on and on about his innocence, the police’s hate for him, the circumstantial case they had, and how they confiscated the phone. We talked, I rolled my eyes, and Matt hung up. About two hours later I received another call, but this was different; he was crying. He had gotten in his car, bought a 40 oz of some dirt cheap beer, and drove around town. He narrated the story about how the cops herded him in a corner, pulled him over for no good reason, and asked him if he had been drinking. He said he had, which according to Matt was the fatal mistake.  So, now he had a DUI and a theft in one day. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

However, the next events really pushed me into a fog as Matt was beyond consoling. He was talking nonsense, conspiracy theories and the like. It’s a bit foggy as to which happened first, the job loss at the local grocery store, which he worked at since age 15, the job loss at Walmart, the long span where he couldn’t find a job, or the friends that just stopped hanging out with Matt because some pills supposedly disappeared. None of this was Matt’s fault of course. All just looked like he did it, but of course, he didn’t, according to Matt.

As I sat listening to still another story of Matt’s on how he was the innocent citizen being harassed, I became suddenly very tired, very jaded, and very sick. I just needed off the phone.  I told him we would talk in the morning because I was too tired to think and was not buying any of it. So, I hung-up. He called back. I hung up. He called back. I got very firm. He cried. The phone sat silent.

About an hour later it rang again and I let the answering machine pick it up. I could hear Matt, whimpering, asking for me to please pick up the phone because he had burned himself. Upon picking up the phone I received the most desperate cry I had ever heard to this day. He was so scared, so cornered, so desperate. Holding the phone and holding my head I asked quietly what had happened. The response was explosive.  “Mom, I was frying a burger and the pan flipped! I have grease on my arm. Mom, I burned my arm. It hurts so bad. Oh my God! Mom, it’s bad!”

I tried to comfort him and give advice for burns. Thinking about other things as I was talking, I just didn’t believe that this was accidental. So, I asked, “Matt, did you do this on purpose? Kiddo, what is going on?” The conversation continued, fast paced, frantic actually. He was so repetitive, so emotional, so desperate. If I could go back to that day, I would have done things so differently. But, retrospect doesn’t afford experience.  After an hour of trying to calm him down, I was drained and he was still a vortex of emotion. Absolutely sick, I calmly told him that I was going to hang-up, and in the middle of his crying I did just that. I hung-up.

The next day he came over to the house, about a 30 min. drive. He showed me his bandaged arm, which had a deep burn about 4 or 5 inches long and an inch wide directly over the inner bend of his elbow.  My son had done it to himself, though he still held to the grease story. Hearing about this later from a friend who was there to witness the whole account, I now understand that he was afraid the police would see his track marks, scars from heroin use. I was so naïve.

That summer progressed with the same sort of incidents.

Matt would come by to ‘visit’, hang out on the couch, sleep in his clothes, wake up to make a few phone calls, and suddenly take off. He was often wearing dirty clothes, always wrinkled, and shabby.  I bought him such nice clothes here and there, but he never bothered to change. Strangely, he never stole from me, always kissed me hello and goodbye, and always wanted to know about my life. I explained, but he never seemed to remember what was really happening with me.

At that time I had a beau, a guy, a proposal, and a hopeful new relationship. Things were moving quickly with my new love, and Matt was fairly absent. I would call and he would be in Chicago, or he would be driving somewhere far away. His life was like trying to keep up with a political campaign—one day this was the story and the next day that story was changed and neither had to do with reality. It was so tiring, so maddening, so draining. I just turned away. Such a mistake.

August came and a ring was given. However, being married before and a bit older, I just didn’t see the need to buy 100 people chicken and a dress that I wouldn’t wear again. Me and my beau decided to elope. The day arrived and only a few were informed because if you tell more than the necessary two, than the other 100 feel hurt for not being the necessary 10.  The preacher arrived and the two witnesses, and one other not foreseen guest. Yes, Matt showed up that morning, stoned out of his head.

Matt had a large dirt smear on his face, which I asked him to wash, kindly. That was unimportant and with a flip of the hand he dismissed the necessity to look clean at his mom’s wedding. He did want to put something clean on though, and popped into a bedroom to take off his pants. He emerged only in his boxers. Mind you, the preacher, his wife, and the two witnesses were sitting in the livingroom sipping coffee as Matt crossed back and forth several times looking for a good outfit.  Everyone was mortified!

The wedding moved down the street to the little church in our small community, Matt still had the dirt smear on his face. The wedding ended and my new husband and I went back to my house to begin our first day and evening as a married couple. Oddly, Matt couldn’t understand why we wanted the house to ourselves. He actually argued with me about staying there the night. After about a half hour of firm requests Matt left dejected, hurt, angry, and sad.

This was not the real Matt but a hijacked body. Your story may be similar, your own or your child’s. I am telling this story so that you can see what it really looks like, what it really means to be an addict or close to an addict. So, by no means should you feel that your story is that horrific, that shameful, that odd. It’s all the same for everyone that gets drawn into the easy feeling of covering mental pain by using chemicals.

Once Addicts Find Honesty and Love:

Matt’s mental pain was due to low self-esteem and depression. After his addiction escalated to the point that he was put in jail for planning to rob a pharmacy, Matt went into rehab.  This center forced Matthew to grow up, look at himself, be honest, face himself and take responsibility for himself. I can tell you with all honesty that my son came out of rehab a man. For the first time he and I talked as adults, as friends, as equals, and as one soul to another. The year after Matt left rehab was the best year I have ever spent with another individual ever. It all started the day I picked him up and he said, “Mom, ask me anything, anything at all, and I will tell you the truth. I’m not afraid of the truth anymore.” Telling the truth freed Matt to talk, to share, and to feel free again.

The world after rehab and the freedom Matt experienced that summer of 2008 is my hope for all of you creative  and sensitive souls out there that find yourselves looking for a chemical to cover the real you and make yourself more palatable to the world. I have spoken to many an addict, many a social phobic, and many a creative soul, and they all seem somewhat the same. Society has made these people crawl inside themselves for a safe place, a lonely place, a dark place that only feels good  after releasing that inner self and becoming unafraid to express all those emotions and personalities.

Matt was now free mentally but jailed financially. In search of a job, I sent Matt to a city far away, strange, and cold. He once again was sucked into the pain of rejection, the stigma of different and the easy feeling of mental freedom for dollars.  Who wouldn’t pay to feel good? How many of us would march before the world without make-up, without hair dye, without all those façades that cover the real us?  Some people just don’t have that easy of a cover.

Moral of the story:

The truth is your best friend, your midnight lover, your clear mirror, and your salvation.  If you or someone you love wants/needs to be free from an addiction, I know at least a big part of this freedom is the ability to be completely honest without fear.  Consider the necessity of love in a human soul and what love means. Have you ever truly loved someone? Was that love a feature of control? Not love. Was that love a feature of being needed? Not love. Was that love required because a blood-connection was shared? Not love. (I don’t love my Aunt Mildred. She called me a brat and cheated at rummy.) Was that love the feeling of running through a field of flowers completely butt-naked and flabby loved,  cottage-cheese thighed loved, short-dicked loved, bald-headed loved? Okay, that’s what people need! It’s the “I love you because I know you and you let me really know you, the real you, the human you, the workings-of-your-mind you. Thank you for letting me know YOU.”

I didn’t get that until just recently. Matt taught me that. I should have driven to his apartment and gave him a hug that night while laughing at his ridiculous excuses and letting him know that I still loved him. God taught me that. God has always listened and never asked a crumb of me. He even wrote me big letters letting me know what is wise and not before I was even born. Fat, ugly couples that have been together forever taught me that. I notice that couples that are not considered “beautiful” by commercial standards are so happy and not divorced. I also notice that “beautiful” couples are typically serial marriage couples.

After 48 years of life, the first half completely dumb, the next forth a bit durrrrr, and this last few somewhat salient, I would like to pass on the little treasure box I have filled to others. If I can save one addict, parent of an addict, loved one of an addict from missing that critical addition to a meaningful life, I will have achieved something with this blog. Therefore, I am not going to be all rainbows and unicorns as I present the truth. I find the rhetoric around addiction to be very vanilla on the web. It is also very sciency, if that is a word. Science shimience, addiction is a disease of the soul.  So, try just yelling out the truth as the truth will set you free.

Love and hugs,

Matt’s mom

14 thoughts on “Matt on drugs; how to love the person and not the addiction

  1. Your son had Bipolar Disorder. The drug use was a way in which he tried to “fix” himself. I have read your blog and everything about your son. He was a wonderful, caring person. He did not ask for or deserve this disease, it just happened. You were a wonderful mom and have suffered such heartache. I have been there.


  2. O my O my . . . I am gonna read this post over and over. I am an addict, a social phobic and a creative, I’m also the Mother of three lovely kids. I am so struggling to stop heroin. I can relate to so much of this. I read many blogs of Parents of Addicts and would love to link to this post on my blog (if that’s ok with you) . . . they all seem to question where to draw the line between love and detachment. It is a difficult one, I will be facing it soon with my Ex (Father of Daughter) who will be released after 3 yrs prison. He will look to me for help and although I’m an addict I function with a clean home and food . . . He will be homeless on his release and uses much more than I do. I love him and care so much but I can’t have him here . . . yet I know how I will feel if anything bad happens (it often nearly does when he’s out in real life). I have my own demoins to deal with. I feel for you and will keep comingback to read every word of this Blog . . . (and this post)I would like to sit and read more but the kids need me (as always). Much love and respect to you and to Matt x x


    • Hey bugerlugs, like you already. I too am a social phob. Took me two years to even consider putting these journals out; then I figured out I could be 007! Strangely, as I step out into the light and tell our story, I am finding that I really like all the people I meet and am not met with sneers. Maybe I was just afraid that they wouldn’t like me, or even worse, they would hate Matt. Shame is such a strange burden, unnecessarily we put it on and carry the darn load every day.

      Situation with the ex sounds very uncomfortable. Wow, really not sure how I would even handle that. Have you visited him in jail? You think he wants to stay clean? Praying for you all!

      As for your own demons, they are quite real, so good call on that in my opinion. I found that the truth sort of takes all the demons power away. Just an idea but maybe you could, if you feel that is going to land you safe, tell the truth to him. Heck, what could he do? Can’t really fight the truth. “Hey there lover boy of mine past tense, I am still using and controlling it so as to take care of the kids. Your addiction added to mine would put me over the edge, so bye bye. However, you want to prove you can stay clean for a year? If so, revisit 2013 and come help me stay clean ’cause I could really use the help. However, you want to continue with the ‘dirty-no-good crap’, fine, just do it from far far away. Kids need me. Love my kids more. Best of luck and bye.” Maybe he has a different plan now? Three years can change a person. But then again, I so don’t know your situation. Just dreaming in my head what would be fun to say. Hard to do in reality.

      So enjoyed your comment too. Of course you can link! I would be very honored. Anyone that this would encourage is the whole point. As for reading every word, please don’t read all the commas I missed! And, sometimes I really rant too much. (there goes my sensitive side again!)

      Big hugs for you! I know you will make it too! Rooting for you to get clean and stay there. I know you want to also. That decision is maybe the hardest to do? Not sure. But, I feel honored to meet you,

      Matt’s mom, Jane


  3. I just read this about you mom. I’m sorry. The problem with your dead son was not addiction but something deeper. Addiction is not the problem but an attempt to reduce the sorrow and pain that the problem is causing. Matt and his addiction were not the true problem. After reading this, I wonder how it is Matt lasted so long. He now rests in peace and is freed from the hellish life he led–without an ounce of compassion and empathy from the one person who could have given it to him. We spoil our children and then, expect them to fix themselves on their own. I’m sickened. Please do not respond as I will not respond. I’m sickened.


  4. “Retrospect doesn’t afford experience.” Great insight and wonderful avoidance of the cliched “hindsight.” I see Matt inherited his talent from you. This blog is so great. Thank you–honestly, from my soul–for doing this.

    You two remind me so much of my fiance (who lost the battle) and his mother, only I don’t think his mother could ever do this, not for lack of ability but because she was so shell shocked. However, the relationship & the conversations read so familiar to me. Though it is so refreshing, I have never heard the “addict story” told from a Mothers point of view. You are amazing to me.

    My story on the otherhand…

    Is about my path through this hellish landscape and it will eventually implode on me and lead–not immediately but eventually–to my own sobriety and a totally new life. However, I feel to do it justice, I too must be ruthlessly honest which means telling those stories that make some cringe, that may come across as “glamorizing” the lifesyle of addicts. However, I intend to deliver the crushing blows I felt in the last few chapters. After my best friend died. So please, bear with me; don’t turn away from what I am doing.

    I so very much appreciated your insight.

    And honestly, I can’t thank you enough…


    • You can thank yourself too! We’re all in this crazy battle together, and I learned a lot from reading your rant on methadone. It was so honest, raw, and shameless. I love those who are able to be shameless about themselves. As I read more accounts of opiate addiction, I see that there is no reason for that shame. So very glad to meet you! The real YOU. Refreshing, like cool, moist breezes in the morning.
      Matt’s mom, Jane


  5. I have just recently found this blog. It is excellent for so many reasons. But what I really wanted to say was I am one of the many people who paid for probation and got nothing but harassment for it. I was told many times that if I ever needed any kind of help to just ask. But asking would have landed me in jail not in any of the programs that could have truly helped me. It is just another money making scheme for the government. The officers don’t care about anyone. They only throw you in jail when it can help them get more money. I have so many stories from when I was on probation to support this and stories of many people I have known. And I live in Florida. We have a saying “come here on vacation and leave on probation”, yeah it’s true. All of the court systems in the US are a joke. But Florida is definitely one of the worst.

    As a mom myself and a struggling addict in recovery, this blog makes me want to try harder. I can’t even say why exactly. Maybe because you are one of the first family members of an addict to really understand the struggle. That we carry so much guilt, we want to get clean, we just don’t know how to get there and stay there. And this country offers little help unless you have $$$. I just can’t do it on my own. Opiates are too hard. Especially with kids and having to work and not being able to have the down time of being sick. I have been on suboxone. But when I was started on it, I was not informed. My doctor did not bother to tell me that it can be harder then both methadone and oxy to get off of. Now I can no longer afford it and have not had time to taper properly. IDK what I am going to do. My husband just tells me to get over it. Yeah, it’s that easy. Now I am the main support for a family with 4 children, two of them toddlers. I work all the time between my kids and my job. And I am facing a horrendous sickness. IDK why I am here venting this to you after what you have gone through. I suppose it’s because I have no one else to talk to.

    I am so sorry that you lost your son to this horrible disease. My son is almost 17 and I cannot for one second imagine the pain. And to think, I am upping my sons chances by being an addict myself. I guess I deserve what I get.


    • Hello MH. I read your response and it pains me to see what kind of a situation you are in regarding your suboxone treatment. Please wonder over to Perhaps you may find the support you need to get through this. Matt’s mom has recently visited us over there. Hopefully we hear from her again soon. This journal is so wonderful, on so many levels, I can’t even begin to express how good it makes me feel. I anxiously await the next post from Matts Mom all the time! Anyway, is a wonderfully supportive community for addict. I, too am an addict in recovery who is using suboxone as my opiate replacement therapy. I am also the mother of a 17 month old son. I totally understand where you are coming from…..So, wont you come join us over there??? I’d love to see you get some emotional support from people who know what you feel like and where you are coming from….just a thought…


    • So very glad you visited here. Matt would have liked you to see his journals. Well, I opened this post early this morning and just didn’t know what exactly to say. So, I thought about you all day, just thinking about your reality, your honesty, and your unwritten future. First and foremost, you never need to feel you are putting me out by venting. Vent away as that is pretty much what I do here, vent.
      Your comment that this blog/Matt’s journals really make you want to get off the crazy train, totally made my day! And you are so right that most people just don’t understand, especially those in power. And, no you don’t deserve what you got, no one deserves that. You are so very valuable, so very worthy. Thanks for reaching out! I hope you continue to reach out. There are so many free groups out there, online, that will support, help, inform, and love you for who you are. Did you see the comment below? Suboxone forum thingy? Easy to join. There is a another group called WFS (women for sobriety) that does the same thing for those who have been caught in drug addiction. That group looks hard to get into, but it really isn’t; it’s just very careful to guard the group’s anonymoty. So, that would be a place to find help too.
      Write me anytime, say anything you want, as just telling your own story will help you and me too. Matt wants you to make it out of this prison. He would be so happy to know that he was able to help someone get free as he so desperately wanted to himself.
      Well, I don’t know if what I said helped. Wish I lived closer and could go give you a big hug!
      Matt’s mom, Jane


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