I felt totally out of it the day Charles called on June 4, the day before he killed himself.
The heroin addiction was still new and I was confused with the despair in his voice. I didn’t know how to identify what it was. I felt overwhelmed because not only could I not fix this, I had no idea what to do.
Should I take him somewhere? Where? What’s the matter with him? Why I am hearing what I’m hearing? What is he saying? Does he want help? Am I being manipulated again?
When I didn’t know what to do, I shut down. My brain froze. And I wanted it to all go away. I wanted it to stop and let me think.
i felt completely and utterly helpless. My child needed something and I didn’t know what that thing was. Feeling helpless and powerless was a feeling I had become accustomed to in my child’s disease process. But this felt different.
My brain was screaming at me that I needed to act, but when that feeling of extreme desperation and helplessness kicked in, I had no access to my thinking brain. It flew away and I had no strategies to re-engage it. No resources to turn to to get another perspective. When it did end because he ended, I was racked with guilt. Did I cause this? Wish him away because he was a “problem child?”
It has taken years to understand that moment. Years of struggle to work through it time and time again. I wanted someone to tell me what to do. The crazy thing is, I wanted him to tell me what to do.