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Morning Edition, February 12, 2007 · You don't expect your child to grow up to be a heroin addict. From themoment of her birth, you have hopes and dreams about the future, butthey never include heroin addiction. That couldn't happen to yourchild, because addiction is the result of a bad environment, badparenting. There is most definitely someone or something to blame.
That'swhat I used to believe. But after failed rehab and long periods ofseparation from my heroin-addicted daughter, after years of holding mybreath, waiting for another relapse, I now believe there is no blame.
AfterKatie admitted her addiction, I struggled to understand how this couldhave happened to my daughter — a bright, beautiful, talented and mostimportantly, loved young woman. When the initial shock wore off, Ianalyzed and inventoried all the whys and hows of Katie's addiction. Isearched for someone or something to blame. I blamed her friends. Iblamed her dad. I blamed our divorce. But mostly, I blamed myself. Mydesperate heart convinced me that I should have prevented Katie'saddiction, and that given another chance, I could correct my mistakes.
WhenKatie came home from rehab, I approached each day with the zeal of adrill sergeant. I championed the 12-step program and monitored herimprovement daily as though curing heroin addiction was as simple asnursing a cold. I drove her to therapy sessions and AA meetings. Icontrolled everything and left nothing to chance. But in spite of myefforts, Katie didn't get better. She left my home, lost again to thepowerful grip of addiction.
In thelong days, weeks and months that followed, I gathered bits and piecesof old beliefs and tried to assemble them into something whole.Sometimes I gave up, and sometimes I simply let go. Gradually, mysearch for blame changed to a longing for hope. I comforted myself withthe only thing that still connected me to my daughter: love.
Ithought about Katie every day, and I missed her. I cried, and worriedabout her safety and whereabouts. I wrote letters I knew she'd neversee. Sometimes I woke up panicked in the middle of the night, certainthat my mother's intuition was preparing me for something bad. Butthrough it all, I loved her.
I don'tknow why or how my daughter became addicted to heroin; I do know thatit doesn't really matter. Life goes on, and Katie is still my daughter.
Katie and I meet for breakfast onFriday mornings now. We drink coffee and talk. I don't try to heal her.I just love her. Sometimes there is pain and sorrow, but there is noblame. I believe there is only love.
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Buzzby

Allow me to explain. Someone offered Katie some heroin. She didn't have the good sense to say "No!" She liked it. She wanted more. She didn't have the good sense to keep her use infrequent enough that she wouldn't become addicted. When she completed rehab she didn't have the good sense to avoid going back to heroin.

Blame Katie's ignorance and/or lack of good sense. If we educate our children honestly about the effects of drugs (instead of silence and scare tactics) and teach them some discipline they will be armed to protect themselves.

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