News (Media Awareness Project) - CN BC: PUB LTE: 'I Am The Mother Of A Son Hooked On Heroin' |
Title: | CN BC: PUB LTE: 'I Am The Mother Of A Son Hooked On Heroin' |
Published On: | 2001-05-12 |
Source: | Abbotsford Times (CN BC) |
Fetched On: | 2008-01-26 15:50:29 |
'I AM THE MOTHER OF A SON HOOKED ON HEROIN'
Editor, The News:
I am the mother of a son hooked on heroin and I am slowly dying along with
my son. The pain is unbearable. I cry uncontrollably every day. The pain
tears at my heart reaching out for help for my son and I can't help him.
I hold my son tightly but the heroin has a stronger grasp and takes my son
away to the streets, to crime and to the unknown. My son is slowly falling
through the cracks of the courts and I try make my pleas to the probation
officer, mental health, psychiatrists. The people that try to help my and
my son are the probation officers and when we think we have almost won, my
son is taken away again, dragged to the poisons of the drug world.
I have seen the little box my son sleeps in with the blankets I provide for
him. He can not be home. We are afraid of his heroin friend. My son's life
is out of control now and is scared to let go of the drugs. There's a
possession going on inside of him and he is so full of fear. There's
nowhere to go and he doesn't know what to do.
His mind has stopped in a time warp, not thinking like a 19-year-old would.
He is a child trapped. He is told to make his residence at the men's
shelter in Abbotsford, but 99 per cent of the time he can not get in or it
is too far to go. So it was back to his box again in the cold and wind
while I lay in a warm bed sobbing over my son's tormented life. I can't
reach him anymore. He doesn't seem to understand how the drugs have
destroyed his life and now I don't know if I'll ever see him again with his
next needle.
My son knows he needs help but it's like the devil is keeping his mind and
heart in the dark. The clutch of heroin is beyond my son's control.
Treatment centres are there for my son, but his child mind hears a knock at
his door where awaits the heroin calling like a mother to her child.
I am his mother. I want my son back in my arms again. There is a battle
with heroin and I can't stop crying, thinking one day I will not see my son
again. Why is there no place for young adults to go in the
Abbotsford/Clearbrook area? Our children, no matter how old they get,
deserve the help they need. Once heroin has been tried, the monster of all
drugs has its hold. Your son or daughter is no longer your child but the
child of the monster (heroin). A living reality outside our front doors
echoing the call of a new life into the unknown. A very black world. Once
the drug has taken over, our children remain children and do crime to get
their next fix. Ignored in court of their real innocence and what society
has done, they're sent to jail for the crime. If they're not treated for
their mental state, there is no hope.
I saw my son's home again, his little box he curls up in with three small
candles for heat. He wasn't there. I held a blanket close to me and cried
with so much pain. Here lays my son at night with his worst friend, heroin.
I know my son cries at night. He is being held captive and so am I because
I cry every night too. I cry for my child. Help give young adults a place
to go at night before it's too late.
Name withheld
Abbotsford
Editor, The News:
I am the mother of a son hooked on heroin and I am slowly dying along with
my son. The pain is unbearable. I cry uncontrollably every day. The pain
tears at my heart reaching out for help for my son and I can't help him.
I hold my son tightly but the heroin has a stronger grasp and takes my son
away to the streets, to crime and to the unknown. My son is slowly falling
through the cracks of the courts and I try make my pleas to the probation
officer, mental health, psychiatrists. The people that try to help my and
my son are the probation officers and when we think we have almost won, my
son is taken away again, dragged to the poisons of the drug world.
I have seen the little box my son sleeps in with the blankets I provide for
him. He can not be home. We are afraid of his heroin friend. My son's life
is out of control now and is scared to let go of the drugs. There's a
possession going on inside of him and he is so full of fear. There's
nowhere to go and he doesn't know what to do.
His mind has stopped in a time warp, not thinking like a 19-year-old would.
He is a child trapped. He is told to make his residence at the men's
shelter in Abbotsford, but 99 per cent of the time he can not get in or it
is too far to go. So it was back to his box again in the cold and wind
while I lay in a warm bed sobbing over my son's tormented life. I can't
reach him anymore. He doesn't seem to understand how the drugs have
destroyed his life and now I don't know if I'll ever see him again with his
next needle.
My son knows he needs help but it's like the devil is keeping his mind and
heart in the dark. The clutch of heroin is beyond my son's control.
Treatment centres are there for my son, but his child mind hears a knock at
his door where awaits the heroin calling like a mother to her child.
I am his mother. I want my son back in my arms again. There is a battle
with heroin and I can't stop crying, thinking one day I will not see my son
again. Why is there no place for young adults to go in the
Abbotsford/Clearbrook area? Our children, no matter how old they get,
deserve the help they need. Once heroin has been tried, the monster of all
drugs has its hold. Your son or daughter is no longer your child but the
child of the monster (heroin). A living reality outside our front doors
echoing the call of a new life into the unknown. A very black world. Once
the drug has taken over, our children remain children and do crime to get
their next fix. Ignored in court of their real innocence and what society
has done, they're sent to jail for the crime. If they're not treated for
their mental state, there is no hope.
I saw my son's home again, his little box he curls up in with three small
candles for heat. He wasn't there. I held a blanket close to me and cried
with so much pain. Here lays my son at night with his worst friend, heroin.
I know my son cries at night. He is being held captive and so am I because
I cry every night too. I cry for my child. Help give young adults a place
to go at night before it's too late.
Name withheld
Abbotsford
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