Help in a world I didn't create ...
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If someone had asked me where I expected to be in three years three years ago, I would never have predicted this. I would have said I would be almost set to retire, have my mini homestead well on it’s way to 100% sufficiency and be ready to relax and enjoy myself as I grew older. But that all came crashing down with one phone call from the local police telling me to come pick up my youngest grandson or he was going into “the system”. They were taking my daughter to jail. For possession of a controlled substance. She’s a heroin addict.
I am not afraid of the stigma associated with heroin use in the family although, unless you have an addict in your family, you would not believe the prejudices associated with it. I am more afraid now because, as I said, I never expected to be here three years later, struggling every single day to try and keep what little bit of family I have left from crumbling around me. So I was told to be honest and write this with the details. I guess for two reasons. One, because there is an everyday struggle and aftermath for family members who love an addict. And two, because it’s hard to believe what happens behind the scenes while everyone is focused on the addict themselves.
Three years ago on Memorial Day weekend, I took on the responsibility of custody of my two grandsons,at that time ages 18 months and three years. My daughter went to jail. Their father was already in jail for related charges. The thought giving them up to the foster care system did not even enter my head. That was not even an option. At that time I was a retail manager with 18 years under my belt and very secure in my job. We lived comfortably but far from “well do to”. We had the basics plus a little extra and we were able to enjoy special things from time to time. I continued working my job until Christmas of that same year, when I realized I could not take care of two very small children and work a 10-12 hour day five to six days a week and be on call for my job 24/7 as I had been. The children needed me for more hours a day than just to wake them, drop them at day care, pick them up, feed them dinner and put them to bed. They needed to know that someone was there and would be there for them. They had lost their mother and never really had their father. They were confused. They were scared. They had questions that little minds cannot begin to voice, let alone understand the answers. They needed me to be there and spend time with them. They needed more security than just money. I left my career to be with them and help them through their fears and insecurities.
Shortly after I left my job, my husband (who had been becoming more ill) became terminal and needed constant care. I stayed home with him and the children for that time, losing my own identity and taking over living everyone else’s lives for them. It was a rough time, but it was the only option. It is what you do in that position.
We lived on his social security at that time as well as a small stipend for the children. It wasn’t much, but it kept the house heated and food in our bellies. The extras were gone, but we managed for those two years. My husband died in October of last year. And while his passing left a void in the house and was very hard, the biggest struggle was trying to make what little was left of our savings stretch over the cost of his cremation, the medical bills that remained and trying to figure out how to continue on financially.
My daughter returned home off and on over the time that passed. But she was never stable enough to stay and certainly never stable enough to resume taking care of her children. She once again returned to jail on the morning her father passed away. It was actually a relief to find out she was in jail. I felt she was safest there. She had been very close to her father and had she been on the street when he passed that afternoon, I would have been burying her as well.
To add insult to injury, I had many other things happen as most people do during daily life. Except for us, those things weren’t simple nor easy. We lost our computer we use for school work during a storm. The washer broke down, not once but twice, and is barely hanging on. We had a leak (now patched, but still needing permanent repair) in our mudroom roof which caused flooding in the house every time it rained. We had a major mudslide in the backyard. When it rains it pours, so I’ve heard, and we also lost our DVD player and had numerous other things (like our toaster) that we couldn’t replace. While some of you may think these things are no big deal, to us these have been major because we can’t just “call someone” to come and fix them or go down to the store for new ones. Loses and damages to us now are more than temporary. Some of them are semi-permanent because we can’t replace or repair many things now.
In February, my daughter came home and it appeared that things were going to be okay. One day at a time. That’s how any addict and their families live. The addict lives one minute at a time. But the family and those who love them live knowing that, at any minute, the entire world can crash down again. Again I tell you, unless you live it, you cannot imagine how scary it can be. A relapse can happen at any moment, even years later. There is no such thing as stability ever again when it comes to that part of your life, either as the addict or the one who loves them. But because things were going well, I went back into the work force and was able to secure a part time job of 15 hours a week as a cashier. It was all I dared try to do. She was here to watch the children for that five hour shift three times a week. But that collapsed as she relapsed this past week and once again we began to live the nightmare.
In spite of everything, we continue on. We have a mini farm here where we raise our own meat and garden. The boys are a big help and working hard to learn these crafts. This year we are raising (incubating) most of our chicken eggs as opposed to eating them so we can sell chicks to make some extra money. God blessed me with the gift of being able to sculpt a little bit so I work on crafting and attend craft shows when I am able (although it’s hard with two little boys and no help). I offer my artwork and homemade soaps to the general public for sale when I can and I work hard to find other ways to try and find a way to move forward. We are always trying to look forward not back.
I have never been the one to ever ask for help. I normally try to give help and I have managed to always figure things out with my own issues. But now, I’m getting scared and afraid I can’t do it alone anymore. My close friends are telling me it’s time to reach out. It goes against my pride and everything I have done, but I have been placed in a situation now where I have to admit I need help.
My career, two years gone and unable to be recovered, is over. My savings is gone. My income is gone, less my cashier job and small stipend. I am raising two boys on less than $900 per month right now. And while it pays some of the bills, I still have outstanding medical bills from my husband and now … I am in danger of losing my house if I cannot pay the taxes very very soon. I had paid my electric bill well in advance after my husband died as a security measure, but that too is rapidly dwindling away with less than $300 left on the credit. Once that is used up, I will be in even worse shape as the winter approaches.
So, I am finally admitting some defeat and asking for help. I need to pay my taxes and secure a small cushion to help me get through a few more months while I figure out my next step. My children will always come first and we have a happy home with lots of love and comfort, in spite of all of the mishaps we have been dealt and hardships we are currently facing. I am reaching out now because I feel I don’t have many more immediate choices. Thank you in advance to anyone who can help. Trust me when I tell you I always pay it forward and I never forget a favor. Anyone who knows me will tell you that as well.
I am not afraid of the stigma associated with heroin use in the family although, unless you have an addict in your family, you would not believe the prejudices associated with it. I am more afraid now because, as I said, I never expected to be here three years later, struggling every single day to try and keep what little bit of family I have left from crumbling around me. So I was told to be honest and write this with the details. I guess for two reasons. One, because there is an everyday struggle and aftermath for family members who love an addict. And two, because it’s hard to believe what happens behind the scenes while everyone is focused on the addict themselves.
Three years ago on Memorial Day weekend, I took on the responsibility of custody of my two grandsons,at that time ages 18 months and three years. My daughter went to jail. Their father was already in jail for related charges. The thought giving them up to the foster care system did not even enter my head. That was not even an option. At that time I was a retail manager with 18 years under my belt and very secure in my job. We lived comfortably but far from “well do to”. We had the basics plus a little extra and we were able to enjoy special things from time to time. I continued working my job until Christmas of that same year, when I realized I could not take care of two very small children and work a 10-12 hour day five to six days a week and be on call for my job 24/7 as I had been. The children needed me for more hours a day than just to wake them, drop them at day care, pick them up, feed them dinner and put them to bed. They needed to know that someone was there and would be there for them. They had lost their mother and never really had their father. They were confused. They were scared. They had questions that little minds cannot begin to voice, let alone understand the answers. They needed me to be there and spend time with them. They needed more security than just money. I left my career to be with them and help them through their fears and insecurities.
Shortly after I left my job, my husband (who had been becoming more ill) became terminal and needed constant care. I stayed home with him and the children for that time, losing my own identity and taking over living everyone else’s lives for them. It was a rough time, but it was the only option. It is what you do in that position.
We lived on his social security at that time as well as a small stipend for the children. It wasn’t much, but it kept the house heated and food in our bellies. The extras were gone, but we managed for those two years. My husband died in October of last year. And while his passing left a void in the house and was very hard, the biggest struggle was trying to make what little was left of our savings stretch over the cost of his cremation, the medical bills that remained and trying to figure out how to continue on financially.
My daughter returned home off and on over the time that passed. But she was never stable enough to stay and certainly never stable enough to resume taking care of her children. She once again returned to jail on the morning her father passed away. It was actually a relief to find out she was in jail. I felt she was safest there. She had been very close to her father and had she been on the street when he passed that afternoon, I would have been burying her as well.
To add insult to injury, I had many other things happen as most people do during daily life. Except for us, those things weren’t simple nor easy. We lost our computer we use for school work during a storm. The washer broke down, not once but twice, and is barely hanging on. We had a leak (now patched, but still needing permanent repair) in our mudroom roof which caused flooding in the house every time it rained. We had a major mudslide in the backyard. When it rains it pours, so I’ve heard, and we also lost our DVD player and had numerous other things (like our toaster) that we couldn’t replace. While some of you may think these things are no big deal, to us these have been major because we can’t just “call someone” to come and fix them or go down to the store for new ones. Loses and damages to us now are more than temporary. Some of them are semi-permanent because we can’t replace or repair many things now.
In February, my daughter came home and it appeared that things were going to be okay. One day at a time. That’s how any addict and their families live. The addict lives one minute at a time. But the family and those who love them live knowing that, at any minute, the entire world can crash down again. Again I tell you, unless you live it, you cannot imagine how scary it can be. A relapse can happen at any moment, even years later. There is no such thing as stability ever again when it comes to that part of your life, either as the addict or the one who loves them. But because things were going well, I went back into the work force and was able to secure a part time job of 15 hours a week as a cashier. It was all I dared try to do. She was here to watch the children for that five hour shift three times a week. But that collapsed as she relapsed this past week and once again we began to live the nightmare.
In spite of everything, we continue on. We have a mini farm here where we raise our own meat and garden. The boys are a big help and working hard to learn these crafts. This year we are raising (incubating) most of our chicken eggs as opposed to eating them so we can sell chicks to make some extra money. God blessed me with the gift of being able to sculpt a little bit so I work on crafting and attend craft shows when I am able (although it’s hard with two little boys and no help). I offer my artwork and homemade soaps to the general public for sale when I can and I work hard to find other ways to try and find a way to move forward. We are always trying to look forward not back.
I have never been the one to ever ask for help. I normally try to give help and I have managed to always figure things out with my own issues. But now, I’m getting scared and afraid I can’t do it alone anymore. My close friends are telling me it’s time to reach out. It goes against my pride and everything I have done, but I have been placed in a situation now where I have to admit I need help.
My career, two years gone and unable to be recovered, is over. My savings is gone. My income is gone, less my cashier job and small stipend. I am raising two boys on less than $900 per month right now. And while it pays some of the bills, I still have outstanding medical bills from my husband and now … I am in danger of losing my house if I cannot pay the taxes very very soon. I had paid my electric bill well in advance after my husband died as a security measure, but that too is rapidly dwindling away with less than $300 left on the credit. Once that is used up, I will be in even worse shape as the winter approaches.
So, I am finally admitting some defeat and asking for help. I need to pay my taxes and secure a small cushion to help me get through a few more months while I figure out my next step. My children will always come first and we have a happy home with lots of love and comfort, in spite of all of the mishaps we have been dealt and hardships we are currently facing. I am reaching out now because I feel I don’t have many more immediate choices. Thank you in advance to anyone who can help. Trust me when I tell you I always pay it forward and I never forget a favor. Anyone who knows me will tell you that as well.
Organizer
Ang Fay
Organizer
Owego, NY