The following is a response to my recent article entitled Reasons I should Have Seen My Addiction But Didn’t. With my mother’s permission, I am publishing it as I feel it could speak to other people in similar situations. The following was written by Rev. Betsy Gray-Hammond, and could be difficult to read for some people.

Dear David

I am going to begin this by telling you how incredibly proud I am of you. I don’t think I actually tell you enough and I love you to the moon and back.

As I said I would have to, I have read your latest and I can only imagine how difficult it was to put your story ‘out there’ . What I am going to say to you now is harder than I have ever thought it would be. Why? Because you speak of not seeing the signs and getting drawn further and further in until you couldn’t even remember how life was before your addiction started. 

I knew you were in addiction long before it became “official” and I was always there on the sidelines, always ready to bail you out of rent issues, shortage of food, even on the day of your graduation using the money I had kept for official photos, to pay off your £200 library fine, the only way they would let you graduate. 

To be honest I was surprised that you made it through, every day I was waiting for the knock on the door, every day I was waiting for a uniformed officer  to tell how sorry they were that you had died, overdose , murder, accident. It was not just me that lived with this, it was Amber too, she was watching the big brother she idolised disappear before her eyes and we would both have laid down our lives for you.

You grew up in an area that was tough. You grew up as a beautifully funny, quirky child, one that didn’t like his ‘food touching’ there had to be a margin between each item on your plate and baked beans were always placed in isolation in a bowl at the side of your plate because they could not be contained on a plate or trusted not to contaminate other food.

School was murder for you. You were not like other children, you hated football, and still do. You could occasionally be encouraged to play Rugby, very rarely.

You danced

Played the trumpet

Sang in the church choir

You loved art and above all else science

You were an Altar server, even in your Goth Days , when, to the horror of some people you would don your white robe, whilst still wear, black nail varnish, eyeliner and blue black hair dye. 

You were DIFFERENT and you paid the price… you were bullied by other kids, teachers and many others who should have known better.

You had to live in a house with your Grandma, DeeDee ( your Aunt) and myself. When you five I married a man I thought I would be with forever and allowed you to form a relationship with you, a short time after that you were joined by a baby sister, who you doted on, you loved helping to bath and dress her and you would always pick out the whitest frilliest clothes from her wardrobe with matching socks etc, ect.

To save your feelings , when your sister and I returned home I would put her in more practical clothing, changing her again in time to collect you from school, so you never guessed that she had not worn them all day.

My marriage broke down and you lost the only father you had ever really known. You took it all in your stride and just got on with it.

Living with wider family had much to do with my divorce, and this was not helped by my mum being disabled (spinal issues and COPD) and my sister, DeeDee, disabled and a drug addict.  Something you said you would never do.

But the pressures or being different in a world that didn’t seem to care was going to change all of that.

And of course I noticed throughout your life your struggle to fit in a world that didn’t understand your needs, nor it seemed wanted to even try.

David is autistic, I said to so many childcare professionals the replies were stark, bland, and often downright rude.

You are an over anxious mother with too much knowledge of the subject, I was at this time an inclusion co-ordinator.

It’s your living situation

The birth of his sister has upset him

The arrival and departure of his stepfather ,why? His own couldn’t  care less and  was not part of his life.

He is not autistic, he just doesn’t like being told what to do

He just doesn’t concentrate, ( or you don’t know him like I do)

One of the best.. well the apple never falls far from the tree, this was the answer from a GP who seemed to think I was of a nervous disposition, just another hysterical mum

I promise I tried to find help, I tried to make life better and I should have noticed or perceived what would happen next.

I never saw much of you in your final year of college, I was at theological college, your sister had come with me, you wanted to remain at your college and your girlfriend.

You never said anything about voices, which I now know you were struggling with. You would visit when you could and enjoy Cuddesdon. I tried many times to encourage you to switch colleges and come back home, but you wanted to be you and had also, I now understand, a degree of PDA.

Then University appeared on the horizon, you were excited because Bradford had offered you an unconditional place and they were the best in your choice of Forensic Science.

Why did I let it happen, when did I take my eye off the ball. Had I not loved you enough, had you felt rejected  and blamed me for your existence, all of these things spun through my head as I realised the trajectory your life was taking.

Freshers

Your first term was a wild one, you drank and made merry, or so I thought, but you were struggling with the busyness , the loudness and the fact that Uni was so peoplely. The boundaries within which you felt safe had gone, you were out there in a world that nothing other than early intervention could have helped.

As time went forward the plea for money came more often, my student loan is late.

I have spent so much on books and stationary, I cannot afford food, my mates are going out I cannot afford to go with them, Im stuck, insert location here, and need to get back to halls, these pleas extended slowly until we reached, ‘I cannot pay my rent’

You spoke of lectures, of practical’s, of burying dead pigs in all different ways to match crime scene possibilities to see how fast they decayed, of beetles that could strip bones clean.  You had changed though, you could lie on the phone, you couldn’t ever face to face, and still cannot.

You became more distant, you needed more and more money and in my study one day I said to Amber, I think David is on drugs… we had a huge row, she demanded to know why I thought this, told me you never would and that I was totally and unequivocally wrong!

The world kept turning without a care as to what it was doing to you, I still fought for you, because I loved you,

By the time you came to your final year, I knew what was happening, but I had hoped that returning home would help. I was so naïve.

We never got the photos of your Graduation and seeing you that day really set my fears in stone. Amber and I went back to Brighton, where we now lived, alone. You had decided to go and celebrate with friends… I was losing you.

The short version of the long and painful journey that took place over a matter of weeks, months. You had a lot of health problems and wanted to see the GP often. 

You were very unlucky and got run over several times and needed more pain relief.

Your visits to hospitals and doctors became more and more frequent.

When you couldn’t get them to provide you with the medication you needed we started to see various packages arrive on the doorstep. A man once appeared on the doorstep and demanded to see you. I said no, you were not in. He didn’t believe me and left the doorstep with a cheque for a large sum of money.. because I was not going to let him carry out the other options he clearly had in mind.

By the time we moved up the road to my first parish you had been introduced by someone to the delights of spice, we were introduced to a period of time, when ambulances seemed to call almost daily, paramedics sometimes spent most of the night with us, you were dying but still had competence.

The overdoses and the self harm were increasing, the mood swings were getting more regular.

Amber and I began to prepare your funeral service. We were already in mourning, watching you die from an illness that we could not cure you from, the only person who could do that was you.

And then it happened; after a particularly turbulent weekend, another overdose, you had extracted codeine from the co-codamol tablets through a towel as a filter, you got up one day came forward for a hug and cried, I have wasted eight years of my life and I cannot do this anymore. You grabbed your bag, and left and I wondered whether I would ever see you again.

From that day things did begin to change, you let me come to appointments,  you were diagnosed with various mental health disorders and were heavily medicated. But the at an appointment one day you and I spoke to your psychiatrist about you being autistic, 

He believed that it was something else, I looked at you and saw my little boy, fighting a world that hated him and those like him. I spoke calmly and clearly and asked how they could diagnose you because all they knew was the drugged David and had never witnessed you sober. At 26 you were told, professionally, that you were autistic, now we know that you are Audhd and you also have a diagnosis of schizophrenia.

For those who did not know you before your work today, it must be difficult to understand how much real progress you have made, you are sober, you have a life in which you help other going through similar issues that you have, you have a family, including 3yr old  son Oliver, who is like you in so many ways, you have your own business and you are often invited to speak or teach all over the world.

I don’t know the subject inside and out and certainly not as well as you. But, if I had the change to speak to any parent/carer or sibling  of someone in similar circumstances. 

I would say this: don’t beat yourself up when you child does not seem to want  to listen, drugs alienate them from those who love them so that addiction becomes more powerful, they will only make change when they have come to the realisation that they have reached the end of the road and they need to make a decision on the rest of the journey.

The child/sibling that you have loved is still there; yes  they may be damaged beyond full repair, but they are in there. Addiction is an illness that is like a shapeshifter, it changes a person, their personalities, attitudes and the way that they treat others. Be alongside them in every up and down, help them to dispel the shadows and remember who they are. And never forget to help them celebrate their successes and advocate for their health when temptation comes.

But above all else; tell the you love them every day 

I love you David 

Mumxx