Crystal Lies - Melody Carlson [1]
Preface
Addiction messes with your mind. And I don’t mean just the addicts mind. Unfortunately, an addict’s life affects everyone around him, mostly the ones who really love him. As the mother of a son who has gone through, has been treated for, and is recovering from addiction, I understand from a closeup perspective how devastating addiction can be. When I wrote the first draft of Crystal Lies, I tossed out the chronological time line, and like a Ping-Pong ball, I jumped back and forth between seasons and events—one chapter was summer, the next was winter. I did this purposely to show how life doesn’t travel in a neat, smooth line for the family of an addict. Sometimes you go down the same road over and over, and other times you feel as if you’re going in circles. And too often you wind up on a dead-end street.
Of course, my wise editor quickly realized that this style of writing, although it might artistically portray the frustration and confusion of a codependent parent, would probably just bewilder the reader. And so I straightened it out. Well, mostly. I still allow the story to hop around in a couple of places, but I hope and pray that you’ll bear with me and that you’ll try to get inside the skin of another person—a person whose life has been turned upside down and inside out by drug addiction, codependency, and recovery.
Acknowledgments
I want to thank all of my publishing friends at WaterBrook Press. You guys are such pros! I really appreciate the quality of attention that each of you gives, and I always know I’m in good hands through every step of the process. Thanks so much!
Late fall
I haven’t seen my son in nearly a week now. Always a bad sign. But I’m trying not to think about that at the moment. Unfortunately, that’s a bit like trying not to think about purple elephants—as soon as you tell yourself not to, it’s all you can imagine. The mind is funny that way.
I saw a public-service ad on TV this morning. “Parents, the antidrug,” is the theme, and it shows a tough-love mom grounding her teenage son after she discovers him smoking pot. This woman is quite impressive, solid as a rock, and almost believable. But what the ad fails to show is what happens later. What does she do when her son totally ignores his “grounding” and sneaks out after everyone’s asleep? What then?
Really, I’d like to know what in life prepares a parent for something as invasive as drugs? Where is the How to Prevent Your Son from Becoming an Addict handbook when you need it? Or is this simply the kind of thing you must sort out after the fact? Is this just one of those painful lessons that just goes on and on?
And some days, like today, I don’t even have the energy to consider these questions. All I can do is put one foot in front of the other and try to remember how to breathe. I honestly don’t know where I’ll go from here. Maybe I don’t even care. Or maybe it makes no difference.
When I think of what my life used to be—all that’s been lost this past year—I feel as if I’ve been filleted with a dull and rusty knife and my insides are now spilled out across the dirty pier for curious onlookers to view and to judge. But my therapist says I must face all this if I want to get better. In order to recover, I must allow myself to grieve. And in order to grieve, I must acknowledge what’s been lost. It feels like a vicious cycle of pain to me, a spiraling hopelessness without end. But I promised her I’d try.
I’ve only seen Dr. Abrams for a couple of months now, but she appears to be a sensible person, reasonable and caring, and I want to trust her. But it’s been my trusting nature that’s betrayed me in the past. Or so it seems. Although I have learned at least one thing through all this, and it has become my number-one rule in dealing with my son, Jacob, especially lately, and that is to never trust an addict. It felt harsh and unloving at first, especially since I’m talking about my only son, but I have come to believe it is necessary and, more important, true. Because the fact is, drugs are