Today

writing a blog 
about my experience
as the mother of an adult son
with an almost certain fatal addiction to drugs
disgusts me.
the idea of destruction to life and limb makes me sick to my stomach,
and sharing it with others seems equally disgusting.

somehow, though, the living with it hidden from view is even worse.

so TODAY I will write.

the question of right to privacy, in particular for him, becomes murky, when I am so utterly affected.

Al-Anon would have me think I CHOOSE to be affected; opening the wound, willingly, over and over...and it is hard to argue with that line of logic.

then there is another line of reasoning that explains the invitation to these frequent paroxysms of disgust and pain; I am, as the late Steve Music would say,  addicted to hope.

the hope that one day I will experience yet again that original high I felt when I was all powerful in his world.

that is unlikely to happen.
and I am tired of fighting with God.
I give him back to you today.