For weeks and weeks, months and months, after my son was given up for adoption I was drowning my pain in alcohol and prescription drugs. Of course I know where the alcohol came from, but no idea where the prescription drugs came from since my doctor kicked me out of his office and told me he could not treat me anymore.
All I remember was wanting to kill the pain. All I remember was that I did not want to go on without my son. I drank and took whatever I could to stop the pain.
Words cannot even begin to express all that went on during this time. I had lost my son, my parents had betrayed me, my doctor kicked me out, and as far as I knew the rest of my family deserted me.
I was on a downward spiral and just wanted to die. I truly did not want to live without my son.
This lasted for a long time. When I look back on it I have no idea why I lived through it. I can only assume that there was an ‘angle’ looking out for me. I really should have died. It wasn’t that I was trying to kill myself as much as I was trying to kill the pain, but in doing that, how I lived through it I don’t know.
I remember one morning I got up and looked in the mirror and saw this face that didn’t look like me — not what I use to look like. As I looked at the reflection I said to myself that I had to either give up and continue on the path to death I was on or pick myself up and go on. I remember the tears… I remember saying to Jamie that I had to keep going to find him. I had to keep going to find him…
The journey to finding my birth son Jamie begins.
