Early Signs

Day 639.

I’ve been thinking a lot of how Luke was when he was small, younger.

It’s hard for me to speak of. It’s hard for me to write down.

But a friend who is familiar with the life around an addict professes, albeit in hindsight, that the first signs were around raisins. Those tiny red boxes of raisins. He would do anything for a box and maybe a box was never enough. Later, it would be cookies, sushi, and the way he used his mobile.

In the days before wifi and free data, the downloads of various games and videos would profess to be free, but the cost of downloading them was not. George, as ever, tipped me off that Luke was downloading and I checked the bill. Yes, it was $250 worth.

I feel that George was looking to protect his brother, maybe he could see that Luke couldn’t help himself. Maybe he saw trouble ahead.

I had a calm chat with Luke. Explained that it wasn’t his fault, that it was misleading by design that they claim it was free - and explained how it was not. He listened and I thought he had heard me.

The cellphone providers had no way of barring or limiting this without cutting him off from being able to make emergency calls once the limit was reached, so I left it as it was. It wasn’t long till he had downloaded over $1000 worth - and all in 15 minutes.

“Well, it kept not working.” He was a young teen, he wanted the video and he wanted it now -and so kept pressing ‘download’. He kept on trying and the provider kept on charging.

I was enraged. So enraged, I could not speak. We had so little money at the time. We had booked a vacation, and now I did not know how we would afford it.

And there was the sign of lack of impulse control, which I handled poorly and would continue to do so over and over.

So, looking back, how else was he different? If we gave him a list of things to load into the car or lorry, he could not complete it. For the prestigious horse shows, many things needed to be packed. Voices from others telling me to not do it for him, “Get him to learn,” all seemed sensible.

Did I ruin him by doing it all myself? Did I ruin him by insisting he did it? And yelling when he didn’t? When he couldn’t?

The guilt swathes me. If I’d done it differently.…….... would it all be different?

I’ve just read a book by an old school friend who wrote a poetic book about living alongside her daughter’s anorexia. The reading was as if I read into a mirror. “When does this all start? Why? Is it our fault? Why then? Why is it still a thing?”

If I knew what I know now….

I am so sorry Luke.