Things I hate about being a RADish parent

1. Lying: RADishes lie. Constantly. If their lips are moving they are lying. It's true too. I'm tired of it.
2. Stealing: RADishes steal if it's easier. I'm sick and tired of finding evidence of such in DS's room. I stopped going into his room, for the post part, because of this. I'm tired of locks everywhere, of having to hide my soda, my meds, having a separate fridge with a lock, a lock on my closet, locks on the basement, locks on the heat/AC controls, locking the vehicles, locking up all the keys, my purse, not being to ever have cash around
3. Eggshells everywhere: I walk on eggshells around him, because you just don't know when he's going to blow. So instead we have a lot of silence. Yesterday at Easter, everyone was asking how he was doing--since he was in the room, I had to lie. Yup, now I'm a liar too.
4. Hopelessness: When we first met DS, we felt like we were helping a child. Who doesn't want to help and protect a child. And we saw evidence of the fruit of our labor. He was happier, responded to therapy, and there was signs and symptoms of child-parent relationship. Then he discovered drugs and alcohol, and we landed right back at the beginning.
5. Isolation. When you're the parent to an addict, who also happens to be a RADish, you end up feeling isolated. There are two choices, lying, which sucks and makes you feel isolated, or telling the truth, which results in akward silences, lots of "I'm sorrys" tons of assvice, and everyone taken a big old step back. There also seems to be a callusness to me, an edge to my voice, and this I do not like about me.
6. Along with hopelessness...helplessness: Do we try treatment? Therapy? More therapy? A new therapist? Family therapy? Can we afford any of this? Can we afford *NOT* too...and then the callusness again on my part when we do the leg work, get services lined up, and he refuses to go more than once. Bitterness and anger with six months of bills...
7. Frustration: Sadness gave way a long time ago to frustration when I see this child who had a future throw it all away. When I saw more than he did, when he would look to me to make sure he was worth it, and watching him say "fuck it" and run away from himself.

It's hard to walk around tired all the time. It's hard to admit I'm happier when my child is not home, while knowning I'd rather not know what he's doing when he's gone. It's hard to look at him when he's home, seeing the pot-bleary eyes and knowning what he did. When we first started doing this, I was passionate, reading and studying everything I could get my hands on that was practical about living/raising/helping RADishes. When one technique didn't work, I happily and, with determination, tried another. Some things worked, and we'd celebrate our success--which meant DS's success. The books and therapists are out of ideas, and so am I.