The day my book became a best-seller, my son overdosed on drugs.

Not only did he overdose they day the book hit the top sellers list, but it was also the day that my husband and I had to Chair a gala.

So after going to see my son in ICU and pleading with him to go to a treatment program, I had to sit still with dry eyes as I got my hair and makeup done and then smile and welcome people to the party.

My staff knew because we are very close, and I always ask them to pray for me in hard times. They were given strict instructions not to tell anyone at the party. I couldn’t risk someone coming up to me to offer support and me breaking down in tears. Nobody has a good time at a party where the host is crying.

I had a job to do that night, raise money for the museum. My grief would have to wait. The truth is I wanted it to wait. Even as I write this 6 months later I want it to wait. I had a plan. After he was recovered and sober, when our relationship was put back together, I would then share our story.

Well, now I’m telling our story and he’s not recovered, and I don’t even know where he is. Oh, how those words hurt to put down.

You see when my son joined our family via adoption he was my buddy. I won’t say my favorite because each one of my sons is my favorite in some way. But he was the one I joked with and we had the same sense of humor. He was proud to be my son and I was proud to be his mom. We used to like to shock people with our relationship. He would talk about his mom and then point me out and say “See that white lady over there, that’s my mom.” Honestly, I loved to see the looks on people’s faces when I would go visit him at work. I would say “I’m here to see my son.” and he would come up. The rest of our family didn’t joke like we did. We knew our differences made our relationship both hard and wonderful at the same time.

I felt strangely numb staring at him in that hospital bed. Seeing his girlfriend, later to become his wife, sleeping by his side. I hated her. I know I shouldn’t. I know that’s not what God would have me do. But I hated her. I hated her for taking my fun-loving son and turning him into a dark person. I hated her for doing drugs with him. I knew very well that he made his own choices, but I couldn’t bring myself to hate his choices at that moment. I know she is just as hurt and lost as he is. Six months later I can feel sadness for her as well.

The road to where we are now has been filled with potholes and heartbreak.

When he finally agreed to go to treatment, he called me from the facility. When I returned his call the staff member said he couldn’t give me any information because I was not his biological mother. Even though he was legally my son, had my last name, his birth certificate had been changed to list Wade and myself as his parents and he was there on my insurance. That stabbed me right in the heart. Turns out his bio-mom had taken him to the rehab and had been in contact with the staff and they were unaware he was adopted.  I was oddly grateful and hurt at the same time.

We’ve had late night visits, calls pleading to come home after he left rehab 4 days into the program, texts and messages from girlfriends complaining, drama with his bio mom. Somewhere in between all that one of my other sons was arrested for possession of marijuana without a medical card and had my company truck impounded. I received that call at another event. Then there’s our youngest son who at times got lost in the shuffle of his older brothers’ trauma.

The last 3 months of 2019 were terribly hard for my family and I, but what you saw on social media was our smiling faces and the success of my book.

I have never hidden my life’s problems from those close to me. As a matter of fact, my oldest son’s biggest complaint about me is that I tell all of our family’s business.

In the past, I have felt the pressure to be perfect. The pressure to never speak ill of adoption in fear that others may not adopt. We all know what happens when someone lives under too much pressure without an outlet. So years ago, I decided I wouldn’t put that pressure on myself.

 Yet, all you saw was smiling faces and success.

When I had the chance to visit with three friends in the span of one week and told them how my life was going when the “So what’s been going on with you besides the book?” question arose, they pleaded with me to share my story publicly. One friend said, “I needed to hear that. Someone I love is an addict and I’m struggling.”

I always say that social media is a highlight reel, and we should never take the small portion that people allow us to see as a standard to measure ourselves against. In my book, I recommend that you delete anything that makes you feel ‘less than’ from your timeline. This past Christmas I didn’t scroll through Facebook to see all the happy family photos in front of the tree. My heart couldn’t take it.

Usually, I use social media as part of my ‘side hustle’; being an author and speaker and to share the highlight reel of my life. Today I am using it to express pain and sorrow. This is the blooper reel of my life. Only it’s not funny.

Now is the time in the blog that I am supposed to tie up the sad story with a happy ending.

Well, I have found happiness in my Hope, but the ending is still yet to be written……..