A Mother’s Journey Through The Loss of Her Son To Heroin

My name is Trisha Grose.  I attended Concordia University in Wisconsin and worked full time as I obtained my bachelors degree.  I am a business woman – in fact I am the owner of Chateaux Realty, a successful boutique real estate firm in the Denver Metro Area.  I am a type A person that runs my household, leads meetings, sells homes, employs more than 20 people.

I have been happily married to my husband Scott for more than 10 years.  We joined our families and each had two children.  So I am the biological mother to two children and step-mother to two children.

I am “that mom” – you know, the mother that volunteered at school, attended every school event, went on field-trips, had all of the children in sports, and put my children and family in front of my career – even though I always tried to balance everything my family and children always came first.

Codependence, Anxiety and a Smack on the Head

Codependence, Anxiety…

When you have a loved one in long term recovery things begin to ease up. It’s a slow process, but if you work on letting go and understanding you have no control you inch closer and closer to being able to breathe. One day you realize you fell asleep and woke up without that band of anxiety gripping your chest. When your phone rings and it’s your loved one, panic is no longer your instinctive reaction. The fear stays with you, but you learn to keep it at bay. You remind yourself it’s their life, and that projecting will do you no good. Live for today, be joyful for everything that is good in your life. Amen.

That’s what I would have written a few months ago. But all it took was my mother’s intuition –honed to pinpoint precision through years of codependency – to sound a warning bell and I took ten giant steps backward. My son did not relapse, but he was having a difficult time. I could feel it coming, and the panic, helplessness, terror and anxiety stampeded back into my life and, like puzzle pieces, settled into the familiar spaces in my brain shaped just for them.

AN UNFINISHED MASTERPIECE

Before he died from heroin on May 31, 2014, I would often refer to my son Anthony as “a work in progress.”

He could be mean, rude and selfish. But he could also be generous, kind and loving. And he was working on becoming more of the latter and less of the former.

He just needed more time to get there.

He had serious anger management issues. He would often fly into a rage when he didn’t get his way, but he would always apologize for his outburst later. And he was learning to control his outbursts and was working on being more patient.

He just needed more time to get there.

He had a substance abuse problem. It didn’t define him, but it dominated the last six of his 24 years of life. He would get clean and then the siren call of heroin would lure him back one more time. He was learning what he needed to do to stay clean and he was getting closer to recovery.

He just needed more time to get there.

Tragically, he didn’t get that time. He went back to heroin one time too many and it killed him.

Dear Mom: A Response to ‘I raised an addict – what could I have done differently?’

The below letter was posted as a response to my article  I raised and addict – what could I have done differently? – the author, Stephen Gambale, has graciously allowed me to share his beautiful words. Thank you Stephen. ~ Trish

Dear Mom,
I want you to rest assured that you were the best parent a son could ever ask for. I’m sure a million questions swirl around in that beautiful mind of yours on a daily basis. What could’ve been done differently? What you should’ve done? Would’ve done? Could’ve done? The answer is quite simple –  you did your best. And as your son, I am forever grateful for that every single day I put my two feet on the ground.
Did you not teach me right from wrong? Did you not teach me the lessons I needed to be taught when you caught me from “falling”? Did you not console me when I needed consoling? Did you not teach me selflessness through your actions? It is a maternal instinct to love and protect your child. That is your best conscious decision making, and it is made through LOVE. What I did was made a conscious decision to ignore everything you taught me through action and word, use my ego to lie to myself that I know best and put my comfort at the forefront, disregarding the sacrifices you made for me growing up. Why? Because I’m selfish.
There is nothing you could have done differently that could have gotten me out of my OWN way.

Heroin addiction is a thinking problem, a thinking epidemic. I needed to feel safe enough to think sober might work.

There isn’t a heroin epidemic. Heroin isn’t the problem. It’s been around for a long time – healing sadness, addicting the brain, causing shitty withdrawal symptoms, shutting down the body, and making pain go away in the body and the mind. Heroin sits in a bag on a coffee table. It’s the mind that shoots it up.