We recognized early on that something was different about our son. From a young age, he was constantly on the move, and when he started Nursery, he quickly found himself in trouble. Things only escalated when he began school; 20 years ago, there was little tolerance for behavior that strayed from the norm. I spent a lot of time researching ADHD, and although I resisted the diagnosis for a long time, I eventually accepted it. Unfortunately, this label didn’t change his standing at school—he was still viewed as a troubled child, which meant we received no support.
As he transitioned to secondary school, the situation deteriorated significantly. He was easily influenced and often acted without thinking. He fell in with a bad crowd and eventually went missing. We soon learned he was involved with drugs and was acting as a runner for a drug ring. Every evening, my husband and I drove the streets searching for him, following tips we received about his whereabouts. Eventually, we found him and brought him home, but he became increasingly rebellious, even breaking windows to escape. I would take him to work with me, only for him to vanish again. He was no longer the son we recognized.
We attended support meetings, but they only left us feeling more hopeless. We ended up meeting and paying off drug dealers he’d accrued debts with, and I suspect we were seen as easy targets. Our other son and our family were often threatened. Tensions rose between my husband and me—we argued constantly, which was uncharacteristic of us. Our son even broke into our home and stole valuable items like Xboxes. After making several costly attempts to help him, including substantial spending on clothing, we decided, at the urging of a close friend, to send him to Australia in a desperate effort to distance him from his problems. We incurred significant credit card debt during this time, and both my husband and I were overwhelmed.
When he returned, little had changed. He soon began dealing drugs, convinced of his invincibility and that he would never face consequences. He became a father, but his path didn’t improve. After serving prison time, he promised he wouldn’t miss any more of his son’s life. Yet here we are, a year and a half later, and he’s back in prison. While he now has two sons, he remains unchanged, still believing he is untouchable.
We are sure that all the drugs he used during his formative years have had a lasting impact on his mental health.
My husband has all but disowned him, while I cling to the hope that he might one day mature. We find ourselves unable to be the grandparents we wish to be because we must protect ourselves. This journey has broken us, and our focus has shifted to self-preservation to avoid further heartbreak. Throughout this ordeal, we felt isolated and received little help or guidance, leaving us ashamed and full of self-blame.
For a long time, we kept our struggles to ourselves, only confiding in a few trusted friends. This experience has fundamentally altered our lives.