Once lost, it’s difficult to regain.

In families facing addiction, trust is among the first of many losses.

Parents often ask, “When did you start trusting your son again?”

It took time and distance.  After his final inpatient stay, Jacob held a job and was living in a halfway house.  Slowly, trust returned.  We loaned him a downpayment on his first car – which he paid back over time –  and we’ve never doubted him since.

But trust means more than loaning money.

After 13 years in recovery, his and mine, trust takes on a new meaning.

Maybe I am where most parents are who have never lived through addiction.

Is this “normal?”

If so, it’s just as hard.

A week goes by without hearing his voice.  I begin to wonder.  Is he okay?   Making the right decisions?  Taking care of his health (because he is the only one who can)?

More wondering.   Was it a good week?  How’s the job? Is he getting along with the boss?  His fellow workers?  And just as important, is he making time for that strong, resilient, loving cadre of friends he’s found in South Florida?

Instead of phoning, he texts.   The words light up my phone.  They are sparse, but each letter is a light beam.  He seems happy.  Content.  Busy and productive.  Tired?  Maybe a little.  But self-aware.  Purposeful.

Can I trust all this?

If in my years in Al-Anon – and watching Jacob in his own recovery –   I’ve learned nothing, I’ve learned that the only choice I have IS to trust.

It’s very adult.

And like everything else, I have to give it a chance.