What is “The Opiate Fields”?

This is a blog chronicling the journey of a widowed mother struggling to come to terms with her only child’s serious drug addiction. I am writing it to try to make sense of this insanity, and hopefully help others in some way, so everything I have been through will not have been completely in vain.

This is not a warm and fuzzy blog. It’s not intended to be, either. If what I say here makes you uncomfortable, then maybe you need to read it. If you think the same thing can’t happen to your child, then you definitely need to read it.

Don’t misunderstand me, I am not an anti-drug fanatic. I believe opiates, like all drugs, have legitimate usages. At the same time, I also wish opiates had never been discovered, because they have destroyed my life, and they are killing my son.

My son is now 21 years old, and was raised with every advantage. He came from a two-parent home, and grew up in a nice house located in a safe neighborhood. Though I worked full-time to make ends meet, I was very much involved in his life. He was a Confirmand at church, and was in the Cub Scouts and the Boy Scouts. He received a very good education, and I was very involved with his schooling. He played baseball and football on organized teams. He spent his summer days learning to ride horses, and we spent weekends together at the beach, since we lived close enough to make the drive each day. We weren’t rich by any stretch of the imagination, but he had many advantages most children can only dream of having.

Most of all, he was loved. We were a family who actually showed love every single day, and we were very close. We told each other every single day “I love you”, and even had “group hugs”, corny though that may sound.

I am not claiming to be a perfect parent; no one is, after all, and I’m sure I made many mistakes. However, I can honestly say that I did the very best I could. I loved my son more than anything else on earth. I still do. I always will.

But when his father died unexpectedly when he was 14 years old, everything changed overnight. He changed.

It started with smoking pot. I didn’t approve, but I also didn’t worry too much about it since I tried pot too when I was that age. I tried to get his attention onto something more appropriate, and he wanted to learn how to play guitar so I got him lessons, at which he quickly excelled far beyond anyone’s expectation. However, unbeknownst to me, he had already moved on to other drugs.

Before I knew it, things of value started disappearing from my home. I put him in rehab repeatedly even before he was out of high school, trying to stop his downward spiral. When one program didn’t work, I’d try another. I spent literally every cent I had, including the insurance money I received when my husband died, trying to get my son off drugs. I tried being tough, and I tried being understanding. I even went into therapy myself, thinking perhaps it was somehow my fault, and that I was the one who needed to change. Nothing I did, and nothing the doctors did, made a damn bit of difference. He was hell-bent on self-destruction.

By the time he was 16, a doctor proclaimed that my son was a lost cause. I refused to believe that. I still refuse to believe that.

He went to my brother when he was that same age, and lied and told him I was abusing him, when all I was really doing was forcing him to stay at home so he couldn’t get to any drugs. My brother thought perhaps I was having a hard time coping with a teenage boy alone, and showed up at my house telling me that it was best for everyone if my son stayed with him for a while. He packed my son’s clothes against my protestations, and off they went. I told myself that perhaps that’s what my son needed, a strong male role model to take such an interest in his life. However, my brother very quickly realized that he was in completely over his head. He sent my son back to live with me in less than 24 hours.

When my son was 18, he stole my prescription for Lortab, given to me due to severe arthritis in my spine. I had taken every precaution to ensure he couldn’t get it, or so I thought. Though it was literally under lock and key, he still found a way to steal it. He looked me in the face and lied to me when I confronted him about the pills being missing. He’s learned to be a very convincing liar, as are most addicts, so even I was wondering if perhaps I was wrongfully accusing him, until I saw a stray pill on the floor. That’s when I finally told him either he would either have to go back into rehab that very day, or he could no longer live in my home.

He chose to leave. That’s when I knew the drugs had become far more important to him than I would ever be.

I have however remained in very close touch with my son, desperately hoping to find the right thing to say or to do, to make him realize what he is doing to himself and to everyone who loves him. I talk to him on the phone every day, and I see him at least once per week.

Yet despite all my efforts over the years, and all the money spent trying to stop the inevitable, he admitted to me that he started shooting up a few months ago. And though I’d stayed strong through all of this, trying desperately to remain calm and find a solution, and never, ever giving up hope, that’s the day when my entire world fell apart.

My son’s life was never supposed to end up this way, with a needle in his arm and opiates running viciously through his veins. My life was never supposed to end up this way, fearing that each and every moment will be the one when I am told that my only child is dead.

We are both living in a special place in hell, which I like to call “The Opiate Fields”.

“We do drugs bcaus we want 2 get a record contract”

My son is in a rock band – one of those rare bands with great talent and seemingly endless possibilities – but you’ve never heard of them and likely never will. Serious drug addiction is a major liability, given the cost of launching a new band, and record companies are not in business to lose money. Besides, for every wannabe rock star for whom addiction is a serious concern, there are many others for whom it is not an issue at all.

We use drugs bcaus we want 2 get a record contract. Like Chains, the Doors, Hendrix. Haha.

Those words were sent to me in a text message recently by the lead singer in my son’s band. I’ll call him Mark (not his real name). I have known Mark since he was about 13 years old, and to say he is like a son to me is an understatement. For a long time, he was one of “my boys”, which is what I called my son’s friends who would hang out at my house on weekends to play music and write songs. To this very day, he tells everyone, even people who don’t know me, that I am a “second mother” to him, and he still calls me “Mom”. I love Mark like a son, and still care very much what happens to him, though every cell in my body warns me to turn my back on him, and walk away before his drug addiction destroys us both.

Fast-forward to today. No longer the cute little long-haired “guitar kid”, Mark is now a very talented, but annoyingly arrogant, 21-year-old singer/songwriter/guitarist. The talent and arrogance have always been there, though both have increased greatly with time. He is also extremely manipulative, and always has been to some degree, but I had no idea how manipulative he really was until fairly recently.

In the last three years or so, Mark has stolen everyone he knows blind, in an ongoing quest to feed his voracious appetite for drugs. He has even stolen from me, but his thefts from me were less along the lines of a spur-of-the-moment theft of convenience, which one might expect from an addict, and far more well-planned and insidious, such as what one might expect from a sociopath.

A couple of years ago, Mark told me his three-year-old stepsister (who lives with his father’s ex-girlfriend) had no food to eat, and asked to borrow money so he could buy some groceries for her. However, though he had asked for cash, and though at that time I didn’t even yet suspect he had a drug problem, I instead got together bags and bags of groceries, filled with food a family with young children would want to eat, including every imaginable staple and even desserts. After all, if the little girl’s mom couldn’t afford food for her, she couldn’t afford to feed herself either, and probably couldn’t afford transportation to get to the grocery store even if she had money.

Though Mark had asked for $50, I spent hundreds on groceries, thinking I was doing a good thing for a needy young family, and in the process Mark could look like the hero he was to his family. I didn’t want any credit for it, and I didn’t even expect Mark to pay me back given the circumstances.

It turned out that Mark only wanted cash, not food. He was upset with my solution to the situation, though he tried to hide it, and didn’t even take the food with him when he left.

Mark’s reaction was so extremely odd, if in fact the story had been true, that I talked to someone who knows the little girl’s mom about whether the family was in need of assistance. I had been under the impression from Mark that this small family was destitute, so that’s what I fully expected to hear. I was told instead that the mom works very hard to provide for her child, and that the little girl has everything she could possibly need.

However, out of concern after speaking with me, they visited the mom to covertly assess the situation, since some people are just too proud to ask for help. Since the information that the little girl was starving had come from a family member, it could not be ignored.

Turns out the little girl was absolutely fine, the cabinets and refrigerator were overflowing with food of every imaginable description, they were not in need of anything … and the little girl’s mother hadn’t even seen Mark in months.

That’s when I first realized there was a very serious problem, and that Mark had been playing me for a fool for a long time, with his various stories about needing money for this or that. It had never even occurred to me that he was lying about why he needed money, before that very moment. I was angry, but more than that, I was hurt. I was also confused, because I had never seen any indication that he had a drug addiction.

I realize now that I didn’t know what to look for in order to spot an opiate addict, since the behavior can be quite unlike any other type of addiction. If I’m being completely honest, I also have to admit that I probably didn’t see it because I didn’t want to see it.

I’m hardly the only person who has fallen victim to Mark’s many schemes and scams, though. In fact, it only got worse with time.

He recently cleaned out his own mother’s bank account, to the point that their utilities were cut off and they nearly lost their home. She had no idea he had done it until she went to the ATM, expecting to have a paycheck in excess of $1000 deposited that very day by direct deposit, and discovered she not only had no money, but that checks were bouncing all over town. She had cash hidden in various places inside her house for emergencies, but that was all gone as well.

Mark came to me for help, as usual, when that hit the fan. He asked me for $100 to pay the water bill, saying how sorry he was for what he had done to his mother, and how he needs help. When I offered to pay for rehab, but hesitated to give him any cash, he told me he couldn’t go to rehab because he had to make things up to his mother first. He then asked that I make a check out to his mother instead. He explained in great detail that it was the only way for me to be sure the money was spent in the manner intended.

I had no problem helping his mother, because that woman has been through hell on earth with her son, but it struck me as very strange that he went on and on about how a check was superior to cash. So I called his mom to make sure he was telling me the truth, and she confirmed what had happened but told me right away not to give Mark a dime, even in check form made out to her, because it was just another scam to get drug money.

She told me she had already borrowed money from her family to cover the cost of his theft, including paying the water bill, and that Mark was very well aware of that fact. She also explained that he had managed to clean out her account because his name was on the account as well. She had put his name on the account years ago because she has a very dangerous job, and wanted to make sure if anything happened to her, her son would still have access to necessary funds. Normally that would be a responsible and loving thing to do, but in this case, it was the worst thing she could have possibly done. She couldn’t even close the account without his signature, which he refused to provide.

She told me he would have taken my check made out to her, deposited it at the bank, and immediately withdrawn the funds with no problem whatsoever, and of course I would have no way of knowing he could even do that. Though I had been conned by Mark before, and had even come to expect it, I was stunned.

In the meantime, while talking to his mother, I got text message after text message from Mark. Here are a few of them, just to give you an idea of the level of manipulation:

I’m so srry i’m addict and fuck up…. thank u so much for wat ur about to do…., I really need help I can’t do this alone

Please help me.. Please

I’m hurting

I got another text message shortly thereafter from Mark, after his mother confronted him about his scheme to steal from me, saying that his mom was going to tell me he would steal the money, but that she is a liar. He was unaware that she had already explained the whole scam to me.

The manipulation toward me got even worse, though. About a month later, I got a text message out of nowhere from Mark, saying

My mom just wnt pay for my meds and I need em and she hit me in the face and I wanna just end my life

I called his mother immediately, out of great concern due to the suicide threat. She said she hadn’t hit him at all. She had no motive to lie about that, because I bluntly told her that she should have beaten the hell out of him when he stole every dime she had to her name. She also told me that his prescription wasn’t even due to be refilled for over a week, so he was just trying to manipulate me into giving him money once again.

She asked me to forward the text message to her, which I did, and she used that suicide threat to get an involuntary commitment order that day, in the hope that doctors could convince him to get treatment for his addiction. However, not at all surprisingly, he refused to allow his mother to talk to the doctors, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about that since he is a legal adult.

Without his mother being able to tell the doctors what he had actually been doing, and to warn them about his ability to easily manipulate others through lies, Mark managed to convince them that he didn’t really intend to kill himself, and that his mother had sent me that text message herself so she could get him committed.

However, had they been able to talk to his mother, they’d have known better. Had they been able to talk to me, they’d have known it was a lie, because I could prove it. See, I talked both of them on the phone right after that text message, so I know for a fact that his mother was at work, and he was at home with the phone from which the text message had been sent, so it could not have happened the way he claimed.

Doctors had no choice but to release him within 72 hours, because legally, they couldn’t hold him against his will any longer than that. The first thing he did when he was released was to go get some heroin. The second thing he did was to viciously badmouth his mother for desperately trying to help him. Of course, he conveniently left out the part of the story about sending that message himself, to someone other than his mother.

As if all that’s not bad enough, the rest of his family has been subjected to his abusive criminal behavior as well, even since he was released from the psychiatric hold.

His grandfather is dying of bone cancer, so he needs very strong opiates for pain control. Mark stole every single pill his grandfather had in his medicine cabinet, from Lortab to Dilauda, as well as a bottle of liquid morphine. Thanks to his own grandson, an elderly cancer patient had to suffer in extreme pain until he was able to get in touch with the doctor for replacement prescriptions. The poor man is actually lucky, because many doctors will not replace a stolen opiate prescription.

Later that night, Mark laughed to his friends about having done that to his grandfather. He claimed that he went to visit his grandpa, and that the back door was unlocked and no one was home, so he just helped himself to his grandfather’s pain medication. He saw nothing wrong with what he did because, in his mind, it was no big deal for his grandfather to get a replacement prescription.

I personally think it’s far more likely that he went there with the actual intention of stealing the drugs, rather than it being a simple crime of convenience, based upon my experience with Mark. In fact, I suspect he knew his grandfather wasn’t home before he went there, and may even have surreptitiously left a door unlocked himself during a prior visit so he could sneak back in unnoticed. As sick and as old as his grandfather is, he probably wasn’t checking that the doors were still locked after he had visitors, especially if the visitor was his own grandson.

That crime has not been reported, to my knowledge. I have not reported it, because I don’t know his grandfather’s name or his address, so I have nothing specific enough to report. The family decided not to report it, though they immediately knew who had done it and his mother even mentioned it to me, in the context of keeping any medication and all my doors locked up tight, because they are still hoping beyond hope that Mark will get clean without having to go to prison to get that way. Something tells me that’s just not going to happen, though.

Mark’s current passions are crack cocaine, benzodiazepines, and opiates, and as you have probably ascertained by now, he will stop at absolutely nothing to get his fix. He used to shoot up Oxycontin, but it’s very expensive, so that’s why he switched to heroin.

He gets his benzodiazapines legally, from a local doctor who will give you pretty much anything you want as long as you can pay his fee; that same doctor can no longer prescribe opiates, though, because he got into trouble for prescribing too many of them. The doctor gives Mark 120 two milligram Xanax bars per month (that’s two or more times the average dosage, given twice as often as usual, so that’s certainly enough to feed or even cause a very serious addiction). Mark takes many of the Xanax to get high, but he also sells many of them to help support his other drug habits.

Mark has stopped using opiates before, but only by going through a methadone clinic. The clinic didn’t actually help, because then he got addicted to the methadone, and went right back to using opiates as soon as he left the program. I don’t know what he told them at the clinic, but he was getting so much Methadone from them that he would be stoned to the point that he was useless, for hours after his dosage, and obviously that is not how Methadone treatment is supposed to work. Personally, I suspect he was getting the Methadone while still using other opiates.

Mark now claims to be on Suboxone, which is a synthetic opiate used in opiate detoxification, but I am told by others that he is still shooting up any opiate he can find. However, the last time I saw him his skin had suddenly turned yellow, and that’s what happens very quickly if you shoot up Suboxone, so he may be abusing it as well. When I became alarmed about his appearance, and told him he needs to see a doctor right away, he claimed that it’s just a suntan. I know better, though. Of course, I learned the hard way to not believe anything Mark tells me.

Hubby has just lost all patience with the situation involving Mark. He hates thieves worse than anything, and he is understandably very, very angry with the way I have been emotionally and financially abused and manipulated. Furthermore his truck was broken into last winter, in our driveway at night, and over $1000 in tools were stolen. When we asked around, thinking maybe someone had heard about the tools being offered for sale (one tool in particular was brand-new and extremely expensive) we were told by Mark’s best friend that it was Mark who did it, since he is very well known to break into vehicles and steal tools to trade for drugs. Since the thief wore gloves though, there was no evidence to prove it.

At that point, Mark was told in no uncertain terms that he is no longer permitted on our property.

The situation with Mark recently came to a head, when my son and one of the other band members were at my home writing songs. Mark called and said he was coming over, without even asking if it was okay, and knowing that he is not allowed in my house anymore. Hubby absolutely flipped out, and told my son and his friend that they’d better get back in touch with Mark and tell him not to come here, because he was going to beat Mark to a pulp if he showed up on our property. I was absolutely frantic, until they finally got in touch with him to warn him not to come here.

Though Mark knows he is no longer allowed here due to his own actions, and clearly knew he had placed me in an extremely bad position with my husband, he immediately tried to put a guilt trip on me by sending a text message which stated

Thanks for believing in me

A few minutes later, when I didn’t respond to that text, I got the “haha” text message at the beginning of this post, which proved (once again) only that I was right to not believe in him.

I wish Mark would just get into a program and get clean, but the truth is that an addict will never get clean unless they choose to do so, and most won’t ever want to get clean unless they hit rock bottom. By even continuing to talk to Mark at this point, I am enabling his addiction (and the outrageous criminal behaviors which accompany it) to continue, and I am setting myself up for even more pain and disappointment. I refuse to do that to him, or to me. I also refuse to sacrifice my marriage at the altar of Mark’s addiction, but it has come to the point where hubby has put his foot down, and I understand why he has done that. He is only trying to protect me.

An even harsher truth is that Mark is going to die of addiction, and it’s really only a matter of time since the situation is so far out of control. His own friends, who are hardly choir boys themselves, have told me that the only way Mark is going to survive long term is if he is in jail, because that’s the only way to stop him from abusing drugs at his current level.

Jail is the least of my worries when it comes to that Mark, though. Every single day, I expect to hear that he has overdosed, or been killed. In fact, when the news covers those kinds of topics, I brace myself every single time, expecting to hear that it was Mark. The question is no longer whether it will happen, but when.

That absolutely breaks my heart, but it is simply the reality of the situation that he cannot continue on this path much longer. I have done everything I can think of to help Mark, despite all his lies and the trouble he has caused me. There is nothing more I can do, except hope he wakes up and realizes what he is doing to himself, as well as to everyone around him.

Besides, I have much bigger problems on my hands, since my own son is also an opiate addict.