Adoption Thoughts: Drugs and Your Teenager

I have a confession.  It's shocking and startling in this day and age, and probably for many almost unbelievable however it is true.  Ready?

I have never done any sort of illegal drug.  Ever.  Not once.   In fact, I have never even smoked a single cigarette.  Not one. 

My teenage angst consisted of taking one or two sips of a cooler before dumping them out in my friend's garden and recording "secular" music onto a cassette tape. 

Drugs never even tempted me. Ever.  Smoke made me cough and the people on drugs were losers.  I didn't need that to have fun or dull the pain.  And so I managed to navigate my youth relatively unscathed. 

And honestly, this is the life I would want for my boys  but my boys are growing up today, not twenty years ago and their world is almost baffling to me in it's differences.  The boys are of the age where their access and exposure to drugs is almost daily.  My oldest attends a high school of 900 students.  If he wanted drugs he most certainly could have them.  My second son has friends with siblings that both deal and use.  My third son had a child dealing pot in his SIXTH GRADE classroom last year.

My lack of experience or education does not mean that there is any escaping that drugs have already touched our lives deeply.  Our reality is simply that I became their mother because of drugs.  Or, I suppose, because of an addiction to drugs.  Not mine  (Advil anyone?) but others.

Because of drugs my sons lost their first family and their first country.  Their community.  Their connections.

Because of drugs, their biological father will spend the vast majority of his life incarcerated.  Their biological mother will not know them as the boys they are today or see them become men tomorrow.

Because of drugs our family grows today.

And so I have to educate my sons about drugs and addictions and the costs and the pressures.  And I educate them about genetic predispositions to addiction.

I hate it.  I hate the judgement that might be read into my words, the labels that must be placed on their family of birth; the extremely clear discussions of personal choice and responsibility, tempered by a biological reality of addiction. 

Their reality is not my reality but their reality IS my responsibility.  I MUST educate them because their genetics demand I do.

"Experimentation" is not an option when trying it once might result in a life time of addiction.  And so I educate them, and read to them, and honestly, do my very best to scare them away from that which would ever try to hold them captive in its destructive vortex because I intend to break the icey grip of the cycle of addiction that has stolen so much from my sons and their first family. 

Is that realistic?  Are my expectations fair?

How do you approach talking about drugs with your kids?

How do you plan on approaching talking about drugs with your kids if addiction is a genetic reality in your family or in their family of birth?  

Meeting the "Other Side"

Saturday was a wonderful day with Aunty D and Uncle B and family. An absolutely FABULOUS shopping experience, go karting, a visit to the St. Louis Blues training facility (ok, seriously, no wonder they suck -- they train at a MALL on 3/4 ice.) Followed by a really relaxing visit with the extended family, Greg and I were ready for one last batch of introductions.

We were heading to meet Great Grandma, who raised Sr., and his mother, Grandma, as well as any other extended family members that showed up. They live very near the St. Louis airport so it worked out wonderfully to go meet them on our way home. But still, it was hard.

We pulled up to a little, tiny house and walked in the front door. The house was overflowing with "stuff". Stuffed animals, hundreds of crystal items, picture frames filled and not filled, random and assorted items covered every available space. We were met at the door by both the Grandma and Great Grandmother.

Sr. had warned us that his mother was still a drug user, and had actually not wanted us to meet her, but there she was. High. Track lines down both arms. Shakey. Either coming down or still high. Unable to really carry on a conversation, obviously happy to see Greg, but lost in her own world.

Great Grandma was in pajamas when we got there, but later changed. She seemed very nice but has had a very hard life. I hope seeing Greg brought her some comfort. As she listed off the son, and grandchildren and great grandchildren she has lost to drugs, gang wars, violence and of course my two sons to the foster care system my heart really broke for her. Greg was very taken aback by the obvious life style differences & their very obvious poverty.

Great Grandma talked for quite awhile about how she had the boys alot when they were babies, prior to their seizure by DFS. We knew this, and I think it was good for Greg to hear from her.
Sr's sister and 4 of her 5 children showed up for a visit. She is the relative I see the closest physical resemblance to Greg, and one of her sons was very close in appearance to Eric.

Everyone was happy to see us both. This side of the family seems to "get it" and that makes it so much easier for Greg. They thanked him for coming, and me for bringing him. They talked so happily about the pictures and letters I have sent over the years.

We only stayed an hour. Greg has gotten progressively more forceful in resisting conversation and physical contact over the week. His 'reserves' of polite hugs and conversation has ran out completely. At the beginning of this trip he would smile and maybe nod when someone asked if he remembered them, but now he is pretty blunt. "No I don't remember you". Its his truth and such a strange situation. This family KNEW Greg. They raised him for 18 months. They had visits for another two and a half years. He does not know them. Its an interesting quandary to watch him, and them, process that.

As we left, they gave Greg $100 to share with Eric. This was VERY hard for Greg to accept gracefully. Not a lack of gratitude, as he was grateful, just an awareness that they needed it so much more than he did. As we drove away he said "That was hard to take mom".

Over lunch we talked about the two families he met, their differences and their sameness. Great Grandma has "been with the same family for 30 years" as household help. She has struggled, but has held a job for a very long time. Sr, and his family, accepted US into their family. Not just Greg, but Greg AND I. They asked him questions about HIS life. They thanked me for bringing him. Sr. over and over again encouraged Greg to make something of his life. Be thankful for what he had been given and to use it. To listen to his parents. They gave a gift for him to bring home to Eric. They loved seeing the pictures of Greg's other brothers and asked about them too. Greg left with a positive sense of their family and a desire to get to know them more. Would that have changed if our visits were longer? Maybe. But that's for another post coming on my thoughts regarding regrets.
His feelings for L and her family are far more ambiguous. He really loved getting to know the kids. The adults scared him. From my point of view, and I think from his, it was apparent that the visit was about THEIR pain and THEIR loss and not about getting to know Greg as he is today. They expected Greg to be the 18 month old that missed them, and only knew them as his family, instead they got a 13 year old with a whole other life that he wanted to integrate them into. They didn't appear to want that part of Greg. Or if they did, their own lack of skills, personal life experiences, and mental health issues prevented them from showing it in a way that Greg could accept. They wanted Greg, but they wanted him on THEIR terms.

Deep down, I do believe he is very angry but not able to express it yet. I asked what he wanted to do for L's birthday next week. Absolutely nothing. More than that, adamantly absolutely nothing. As he pointed out to me, they didnt give him anything, and didnt give us anything to bring home to Eric. And Greg wasn't caring about an actual gift, because a $5 t shirt would have been enough, it was the idea that they didnt think about it from his perspective, or from Eric's perspective back at home. He has some processing to do in this regard, I am sure.

We arrived at the airport. Happy. Practically Ecstatic. We are both so, so ready to get home.

And then, THEN began our adventure with United Airlines and how they tried to kill us.