'LOVE DOESN'T CHANGE WHEN YOUR KID IS ON DRUGS'

HANOVER -- Six parents sit in a local home, sipping lemonade, with
the appearance of a casual visit. But there's nothing casual about
this meeting -- it's all about offering support, a kind shoulder to
cry on and an understanding ear to listen to the heart wrenching
stories that are all too familiar to each of them.

This past spring, a local couple began a support group for parents
whose children have become addicted to crystal meth. This couple have
been through hell with their son, but they've got a story of hope for
parents going through similar problems. Their kid got help, and is in
the process of cleaning up his life.

The Post sat in on a meeting of this support group, and agreed to
protect the identities of the parents and their children. In a small
community, these parents already feel the pressure of a stigma
attached to what their families have gone through. Previously
friendly neighbours have stopped speaking to them, they notice stares
and murmurs when they're out in public.

But, they each point out, the only difference between them and the
others who are pointing fingers at them, is that their kid got hooked.

No family, they point out, is safe.

"You live in a small town and you think it's a safe environment.
That's not true. You can't let your guard down," says one parent.
"You can't let your kids go out at night, alone. It's no different
than in the city."

The first family is able to say that there is hope. After hitting
rock bottom a couple years ago, he was convinced to go to a drug and
alcohol rehabilitation centre in London, Ontario.

"It turned his whole mindset around," says his father. "It was a sad
day, but also happy (when he entered rehab)." The son graduated from
the program, but stayed on to act as a mentor to others in the
program. His father says he doesn't want to return to the community,
because he is afraid of running into old friends -- and old habits.

"We thought it was just alcohol and marijuana," the father says.

But the son recently admitted to his parents that he was on crystal
meth. "He had such a bad temper . . . he was too violent to just be on weed."

But his parents didn't know anything about crystal meth. "It was
seven years of hell. We were afraid to leave the house, afraid that
someone would break into the house."

All of the parents in this room agree that there are not enough
social services available to help deal with this addiction. And there
is not enough money provided to the services that do exist.

"They need a place to go now," says one mother. But there are long
waiting lists.

"They can't wait until next week, or three weeks from now . . . they
won't want to go then. If they decide they want to get help now,
there needs to be a place for them to go."

And, one parent notes, with crystal meth, counselling alone won't
work. Detox is required.

An 18-year-old daughter of one of the parents in the room started
doing drugs early in high school. They found out last fall that she
was abusing crystal meth. "She was clean for a while, but got mad at
me and went back to it," her mother says. "They usually blame the mother."

Another parent tells of a son, 21, who still lives at home. "He
thinks he's untouchable," the parent says. "He's lost his job, and
he's living at home. When he sleeps, you can't wake him up. He's so
thin . . . it's a constant battle in the house, but he doesn't care."

Another parent says a list of signs of a person on drugs should be
given to every parent. He first noticed his son's weight loss, losing
20 pounds in about two weeks. "He ate like a horse, I thought it was
cancer," he says.

It was still months before he realized what was going on with his
son. He began to notice purple marks on the son's face, mood swings,
vulgar language, very dilated eyes.

It's a nightmare that these parents don't talk about, except within
this support group, where there are people who've already been through it.

"I'm so glad for a group like this," says a mother. "I could have
been an enabler, but here I've learned about 'tough love.'"

Talking to others who've either been through these horrors already,
or are in the middle of the nightmare, can help a parent to deal with
the situation at home. As they know, it's difficult to understand,
unless you've been through it.

One mother put her feelings on paper, sent to The Post: "Every day I
wake up with a knot in my stomach and a heart that feels like lead.
My child's drug problem is the first thing I think of when I wake up
and the last thing I think of when I go to bed. Don't worry about
your children getting drugs on the streets or at parties. Just send
them to school -- it's readily available there. The school called me
when my child skipped a class, but never notified me that my child
was suspended for smoking pot on a school trip."

The letter continues, "And now I learn that my child has graduated
from pot to crystal meth. My child has had some counselling, but when
they are over 18 you can do nothing without their consent. I cannot
get my child help until my child realizes they need help and actually
wants to quit. I feel like my child is walking along a cliff, ready
to go over at any time. My child is getting thinner and I can
sometimes see the grey look of death on their face. I don't wear my
heart on my sleeve so I try to appear normal to friends and coworkers
- -- they don't know at times I am screaming inside."

What keeps these parents going? What makes some allow their son or
daughter to remain living in their home?

One mother sums it up: "Think of your child, and how much you love
them, and would do anything to protect them and help them. That love
doesn't change when your child is on drugs."

There is, indeed, an emotional cost when a child is addicted to
drugs. But there are other costs.

The financial cost can include theft of possessions, repairing the
home from violent damage, and when the child decides they want help,
rehabilitation is costly, too.

Siblings living in the home pay a cost, too. "You focus on the bad
kid, and the others get neglected," says one mom.

"You're lucky you don't get divorced," says another parent. "You
blame each other, and you fight over whether to kick the kid out."

The support group offers just that, support, but there are few
answers given. Nobody has the answers, and each case is different.
But the support goes a long way, they all agree.

"It's worse than losing a kid," says a father. "You watch them kill
themselves slowly, and there's not a thing you can do. It's a living
nightmare. You go to bed thinking about where they are and what
they're doing, and you're afraid of getting that call in the middle
of the night."