I was perusing the journal I kept before I started this blog and came across an entry from January 28, 2007. Exactly eight years ago, when my son's depression was at its peak and his addiction was getting worse. I thought I'd share an excerpt here.
January 28, 2007
I’m working at home tomorrow. Right now, I don’t even want to be home. I’d rather be somewhere far, far away…all by myself. Getting drunk and forgetting about how fucked up my life is. Because it is fucked up. For a few days there, I thought we were turning a corner. But instead we hit a brick wall.
Sometimes I feel like just walking away. Just getting in the car and driving nowhere in particular, thousands of miles away. Finding new places, new things, new people…new feelings; because the feelings I have right now hurt so bad. Why should life be so painful? Why should the suffering just go on and on? I would give my life to make [my son] happy and “normal.” And I wish I could. It would take away his pain and my pain at the same time.
Again, I say this:
I look back not to see how bad things were, but to see how far we've come.