28. A Letter to My Mother
“Dear Mom,
I am writing this letter to apologize for everything I have put you through. This is the first time in years I finally have a drug-free and clear mind. Every day here, all I can think about is how poorly I’ve treated you for the past twenty-something years. I know this letter isn’t much, but I will be trying to make up for all the hurt I’ve ever put you through for the rest of my life. I’ve said some truly horrible things to you while I was under the influence, and while I was sober. There is no excuse, sober or not. I’ve been self-medicating to mask underlying issues that I’ve struggled with for a very long time, not even realizing how that was going to f*** me up in the long run. It turned me into someone different from, “your Kyle.” Thinking back, I don’t even realize how I said some of those things that I said to you. I never realized how hurtful some of the things I said were. I want you to know that I did not mean ANY of it. I can’t take it back, but I can turn my life around for you and myself. You gave me life but also saved my life by pushing me to get help. Rehab is the best decision I’ve ever made. Had it not been suggested, I may have drugged myself to death. I will forever try to make it up to you from here on out and I am SO sorry for all the trouble and pain I have put you through. I love you SO much, you don’t even know.
Love Kyle”
On March 7, 2018, while I was sitting in the confines of my first-ever inpatient rehab program, I felt an overwhelming urge to reach out to one person who had always been there for me - my mother. With pen in hand, I poured my heart onto the paper, determined to express my sincerest apologies and intentions to turn my life around. Little did I know that the letter I wrote that day would remain hidden, untouched, and unsent for years to come. It was only recently, as I was cleaning out my closet at my mother's house, that I stumbled upon this heartbreaking piece of my past. As I unfolded the crinkled pages, a wave of emotions washed over me. Regret, guilt, and a glimmer of hope filled my heart. It was a snapshot of the person I used to be - a person deeply wounded by addiction but still clinging to the possibility of redemption. The reason I never gave my mother this letter became apparent as I retraced my tumultuous journey. You see, I left that initial rehab program and immediately transferred to long-term inpatient rehab. And yet, even within the walls of this long-term program, I couldn't resist the allure of escapism through drugs. Against medical advice, I left the long-term program after a mere two days. My return home marked the beginning of a heartbreaking cycle: attending rehab, promising myself and others that I would change, only to succumb to the clutches of addiction, sometimes within hours. Amid my struggles, I wrote this letter with utmost sincerity. Each word bore the weight of my desperate desire to conquer my demons, to cleanse myself of the addiction that had held me captive for far too long. I truly meant every apology, every expression of remorse, and every promise of change. Yet, the grip of addiction proved stronger than my willpower, leading me astray for nearly three more agonizing years.
Today, with the wisdom of hindsight, I comprehend the true extent of addiction's reach. It is a monstrous force that not only ravages the life of the addict but also inflicts immense pain on those who love them. My mother, bless her heart, bore the brunt of my addiction, experiencing the full force of my destructive behavior. She weathered every storm, endured every heartbreak, and shouldered every burden that my addiction brought upon her. While I sought refuge in drugs, attempting to numb the unbearable weight of emotions, my mother bravely faced the reality of my addiction without respite. The pain and suffering I inflicted upon her were felt far beyond my comprehension. In those moments when I penned that letter, I could not fathom the scope of addiction's impact on loved ones. But today, I see it with crystal clear clarity. Addiction engulfs entire families, leaving scars that may take a lifetime to heal.
As I look back on that letter, I can't help but wonder how different things might have been if I had been able to stay true to my intentions. If only I had possessed the strength to defeat my demons sooner, to spare my mother from the unrelenting pain she endured. But addiction is a relentless adversary, a monster that skews perceptions and distorts judgment. Now, as I confront my past and the harsh reality of my actions, I strive to be a source of support and hope for others trapped in the clutches of addiction. I share my story not to seek forgiveness or pity but to remind everyone that addiction extends its tentacles far beyond the addicted individual.
To those struggling with addiction, I implore you to seek help, to find the strength to reclaim your life before it's too late. And to the loved ones of addicts, I extend my deepest empathy and understanding. Addiction may have cast a dark shadow on my past, but I am determined to emerge from it, not just for myself but for the one who never stopped believing in me - my mother.
And remember, if you’re struggling, or know someone who is struggling, please don’t lose hope. If that had happened to me, I wouldn’t be able to spread awareness today.
