The Hardest Thing
Written by a Son
I’m not a Mother. I’m a son and I’m in recovery. So, how can I know what the hardest thing for a mother is to do? Well, I asked my mother and then I asked some other mothers.
Each one, time and time again, said the same thing. The hardest thing for a mother to do is nothing. This becomes all the more difficult when they have a son or a daughter suffering from addiction.
Every mother I spoke to said doing nothing for their children is by far the hardest thing to do. Mothers are caregivers and nurtures by nature. They give birth to us and their instincts tell them to protect us at all costs. Mother bears have been said to walk on their hind legs straight towards oncoming eighteen-wheelers to protect their young.
Human mothers lift cars off their children after car accidents. Mothers have proven to be extremely strong and fierce creatures in the arena of protecting their children. So, when it comes to standing on the sidelines, they prove to be very out of their element.
My Mother’s Experience
When I was in my darkest days of addiction, my mother came in swinging everything she had: money, influence, emotions, and tears. My addiction was way stronger. My addiction proved to be stronger than an eighteen-wheeler and much heavier than a car.
I listened to her and tried to change, but I seemed to turn all her love and compassion into fuel for my disease. Finally, after nine rehabs, she was instructed to do nothing.
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I was in a horrible car accident. She didn’t come to the hospital. She didn’t nurse my wounds. She didn’t bail me out. She didn’t let me come home. She let me be alone.
She did nothing and it was the absolute hardest thing she has ever had to do. Nothing.
I know she cried. I know she stayed up ‘till all hours of the night. I know she went to therapy. I know she was angry and I know she was sad. She did do one thing, though, she prayed.
She prayed for me everyday and she went to church every Sunday.
Me? I took a long look around and noticed that she wasn’t there. I thought to myself, “if I lost my mom then I really must be lost.” I started to find my own way. I started to learn how to swim. I found myself.
I had to find myself because the only person who could help me get sober, the only person who could fix me, was me. I was stronger than an eighteen-wheeler because I was driving it. I got out of that truck and started to walk side-by-side with all of the other sons and daughters. I found my way home.
I regret making my mother do the hardest thing she ever had to do. I always will. But if it weren’t for her doing nothing, I’d have never found the strength to change everything.
My mother doing nothing was the best thing she ever did for me. I have her in my life today and, this time, I’ll never let her go.