I Was a Terrible Mother

Day 671.

The anguish of what damage I did to Luke revisits my soul. Prompted by a questionnaire on Facebook on addiction triggers.

“Were you ever shouted at by a parent.” Oh yes, he was. I shouted.

For many hours today, all I recall are the bad days. The shouting. The shouting. The frustrations of living with a child whose impulse control is lacking.

Sweet Luke, I was a terrible mother to you - I didn’t get it. I regret so much of it.

Were we so close because you continuously sought my approval? An approval I struggled to give because of the impulse control issues, that I saw as danger? I was scared. I was terrified.

At first, when you were small, it was infuriation, and later it was terror.

I could not join in your adult world of rap music, parties and drugs - because I was terrified.

Would it be different if I knew, if I felt, what I now know?

Oh how I wish I could redo it all. Would you be alive?

Sobbing now makes no difference. Did I miss my chance?

Nobody would tell a grieving mother, “yes, you certainly fucked that up.” Could I even bear to hear it, even if they did?

When Luke was in rehabs, I implored him to protect nobody. To tell what hurt him, and then we would go from there. I implored him to dish any wrongs I had done, so that we could rebuild, reform, rework our dynamics. “Don’t spare me.” I said.

I have been assured that a bad mother would never say that. But what else would they tell me?

On the day that we heard Luke was dead, a good friend, a brutally honest friend, who is 20 years sober, took me by the wrists and stared into my eyes, into my heart and said “Before you start to blame yourself, you could not have done more.” She said that she sees many 23 year olds in the AA and NA rooms, none of which have a relationship like Luke and I had, whether in or out of sobriety and that’s why she loved me from our first meeting”. Is this true? She speaks truths, that is for sure. But did she not see our true relationship?

Whatever the ins and outs truly are, I am haunted by my part in this.

I could choose to remember just the good parenting, but that would be a lie.

I ache for you Luke. I ache to see you, feel you. I am so, so sorry.

I am broken.