Read The Joey Song: A Mother’s Story From the Place Where Love and Addiction Meet

The Joey Song: A Mother’s Story From the Place Where Love and Addiction Meet

Sandra Swenson

4.9/5 (30931 ratings)

Description:“I used to think there are no words for what I feel. But Sandy just proved me wrong. There are words. And she nailed it.” —Lisa G.An ode to parents who love a child --of any age and stage--struggling with the disease of addiction. Together we are stronger. The poison seeping into our household passes directly through me—sneaking in, I think, on the umbilical connection. Joey may be the one consuming the poison, but the poison is consuming me. The spread of this disease of addiction must stop. Right now. With me.I will get out of bed. And tomorrow I won’t get back into bed after Joey's younger brother leaves for school. I will get myself dressed and brush my teeth. I can do this. I can go back to pretending that everything is normal. Even as my child busily gnaws off his own foot. I will put on the dressing of normal life in the same way I shove myself into my jeans—take a deep breath, swallow the pain, and paste on a smile. I’ll even tuck a smile in my voice when the next debt collector calls looking for Joey's latest address. I will re-emerge from the house, step back into the world I’ve been unable to face. A world where people do not--cannot--understand drunken car accidents or intravenous speedballs. A world snug and comfy in the illusion of sweet dreams and happy endings and the power of a mother’s love. A world that believes, because it must, that children do not self-destruct randomly and therefore this mother’s love must be tremendously flawed.But, on this, the world would be very wrong.When addiction grabs a child, it chokes a parent. I know the life-draining squeeze of its grip. I’ve never felt so incapable and helpless, so sad, so lonely. Such fear. My child has been stolen from me—stolen from himself—and I mourn Joey’s loss and suffering from a very lonely place. There is no broad community empathy or support for the families of addicts. There is no rallying cry of solidarity, no pretty ribbon brigade, and none of the comfort that so often gets baked into meatloaves and muffins. Instead there are closed doors and mouths and minds and hearts.I want addiction to be understood, not misrepresented, misjudged, and mishandled. Not hushed up or hidden away. Nasty things grow most freely in dark corners; the scourge of addiction needs to be dragged out into the light.Addiction has pummeled my family. Beating it back has been one long, hard fight. These mother’s hands of mine, these nubby, bloodied claws, have seen battle—the battle between Hanging On and Letting Go; the battle between Barely Hanging On and Hanging in There; the battle to Survive the Unexpected; and the battle Just to Survive. Battered and bruised I may be, but I’m stronger and wiser.I finally understand there’s nothing more I can do to help my son other than love him, and support in a quest to help himself. Still, I carry around the very maternal and human need to do something. And I need to do something with this need to do something.So, I share my story. One mother’s story of love and loss and learning. And surviving my son’s addiction while coming to terms with the fact that he may not.Written from the place where I live, the place where love and addiction meet.This is The Joey Song.We have made it easy for you to find a PDF Ebooks without any digging. And by having access to our ebooks online or by storing it on your computer, you have convenient answers with The Joey Song: A Mother’s Story From the Place Where Love and Addiction Meet. To get started finding The Joey Song: A Mother’s Story From the Place Where Love and Addiction Meet, you are right to find our website which has a comprehensive collection of manuals listed.
Our library is the biggest of these that have literally hundreds of thousands of different products represented.

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Description: “I used to think there are no words for what I feel. But Sandy just proved me wrong. There are words. And she nailed it.” —Lisa G.An ode to parents who love a child --of any age and stage--struggling with the disease of addiction. Together we are stronger. The poison seeping into our household passes directly through me—sneaking in, I think, on the umbilical connection. Joey may be the one consuming the poison, but the poison is consuming me. The spread of this disease of addiction must stop. Right now. With me.I will get out of bed. And tomorrow I won’t get back into bed after Joey's younger brother leaves for school. I will get myself dressed and brush my teeth. I can do this. I can go back to pretending that everything is normal. Even as my child busily gnaws off his own foot. I will put on the dressing of normal life in the same way I shove myself into my jeans—take a deep breath, swallow the pain, and paste on a smile. I’ll even tuck a smile in my voice when the next debt collector calls looking for Joey's latest address. I will re-emerge from the house, step back into the world I’ve been unable to face. A world where people do not--cannot--understand drunken car accidents or intravenous speedballs. A world snug and comfy in the illusion of sweet dreams and happy endings and the power of a mother’s love. A world that believes, because it must, that children do not self-destruct randomly and therefore this mother’s love must be tremendously flawed.But, on this, the world would be very wrong.When addiction grabs a child, it chokes a parent. I know the life-draining squeeze of its grip. I’ve never felt so incapable and helpless, so sad, so lonely. Such fear. My child has been stolen from me—stolen from himself—and I mourn Joey’s loss and suffering from a very lonely place. There is no broad community empathy or support for the families of addicts. There is no rallying cry of solidarity, no pretty ribbon brigade, and none of the comfort that so often gets baked into meatloaves and muffins. Instead there are closed doors and mouths and minds and hearts.I want addiction to be understood, not misrepresented, misjudged, and mishandled. Not hushed up or hidden away. Nasty things grow most freely in dark corners; the scourge of addiction needs to be dragged out into the light.Addiction has pummeled my family. Beating it back has been one long, hard fight. These mother’s hands of mine, these nubby, bloodied claws, have seen battle—the battle between Hanging On and Letting Go; the battle between Barely Hanging On and Hanging in There; the battle to Survive the Unexpected; and the battle Just to Survive. Battered and bruised I may be, but I’m stronger and wiser.I finally understand there’s nothing more I can do to help my son other than love him, and support in a quest to help himself. Still, I carry around the very maternal and human need to do something. And I need to do something with this need to do something.So, I share my story. One mother’s story of love and loss and learning. And surviving my son’s addiction while coming to terms with the fact that he may not.Written from the place where I live, the place where love and addiction meet.This is The Joey Song.We have made it easy for you to find a PDF Ebooks without any digging. And by having access to our ebooks online or by storing it on your computer, you have convenient answers with The Joey Song: A Mother’s Story From the Place Where Love and Addiction Meet. To get started finding The Joey Song: A Mother’s Story From the Place Where Love and Addiction Meet, you are right to find our website which has a comprehensive collection of manuals listed.
Our library is the biggest of these that have literally hundreds of thousands of different products represented.

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The Joey Song: A Mother’s Story From the Place Where Love and Addiction Meet

The Joey Song: A Mother’s Story From the Place Where Love and Addiction Meet

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