A page from my journal.

I’ll try to address one of the questions I would get repeatedly in her active addiction. It was one of the most painful.

Even reading the question in my head while trying to formulate a reply hurts my heart.

Q: Where is she living?

It’s a harmless question. Or is it a loaded question.

The thoughts in my head when asked? … Fuck you. It’s the truth. And I refuse to sugar coat my feelings here. 

I will tell you that today my girl has 51 days off of heroin. 

It’s okay to smile when reading that! It’s amazing. I’m still in awe and truly happy, while cautiously optimistic.

And now that she’s in recovery my response to that question will vary some. But rewind 52 days ago plus and I will tell you the pain runs deep.

As a mom put on the spot time after time to make casual conversation with someone who isn’t really invested in my reply. It hurts to be asked that question. Those four little words.

Q: Where is she living?

Had I had the courage to reply with honesty.

52+ days ago my answer would have been:

A: She is living in the streets. In/out of motels.

120+ days ago:

A: She is living in a car.

15 months ago:

A: She is living in an Oxford House. Clean & sober.

It’s a harmless question, right?

2 years ago:

A: She is living in a tent. In/out of shelters.

If you don’t understand addiction. If you are a parent. If you’ve never had to encounter the devastation of this disease, it will be difficult for you to wrap your arms around how something like this could happen.

How could I as her mother have allowed this to happen?

My answer can only be, it’s text book addiction.

Perhaps one child can experiment with drugs and live to tell about it. And then there are those who don’t.

There are those who can drink, get drunk, and can live a healthy productive life.

And then there are those who are unable to stop.

It’s a roll of the dice. It’s a horrific roll of the dice.