Posted on November 13, 2009. Filed under: Parent of an Addict | Tags: , |

My daughter won’t let us know where she’s living in town.  She’s afraid I’ll call the police and have her arrested.  There is a warrant out for her arrest for violating probation, and at times, I’ve thought that jail could be an effective treatment program.  It’s free, and Hayley couldn’t walk out of it.    I know she doesn’t go out and is a ‘prisoner’ in her current living situation, worried that she’ll run in to someone she knows.  She’s ashamed and embarrassed.  She told our mutual friend, Erik, that she wants to see me, but is afraid to have me see her.  I’m sure that must mean she doesn’t look very good.

Last June, when I learned that Hayley was living in a crack house, I decided to ratchet up the security level at my house.  I disengaged the manual ‘open’ button on my driveway gate, re-located the emergency front door house key, put giant padlocks on the side yard and deck gates.  When I left town, I pulled down all the window shades, kept the radio on, hid my jewelry and computer, put strategic lights on timers. I didn’t really think that Hayley would try to break in to my house, but I worried about her ‘junkie’ friends.  I’ve since relaxed a bit – at least when I’m at home.  But I still worry when I go out of town.

The Stigma – yes – I am beginning to feel the stigma of my daughter’s drug life and poor choices.  My paranoia is that friends I meet on the street probably think:  “What must have gone on in that family to cause that beautiful girl to become a drug addict?”  Or, I’ll smile, and say hello, or be out and about, trying desperately to go on living my life – and acquaintances/friends might think I’m calloused, don’t care, am skimming the surface of emotional life. However, I guess that one of the many good things about small towns:  the small talk – chitchat outside the post office or grocery store, never stumbles into inquiries like, And how are your kids doing?  Everybody already knows.

After almost six months, I am just now able to go a couple of hours without thinking of Hayley and her sordid life.  I can catch myself feeling guilty for laughing, or having a good time with friends.  And every time I hear a siren, I wonder if my daughter is being arrested somewhere.

Paranoia – hers, mine – it’s driving us both crazy.


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