What Did I do Wrong: My Child is a Heroin Addict

It’s early evening on a blustery day with frigid temperatures and gusty winds. Your cell phone rings. You pick it up and look at the caller ID. It says Allegheny County, then cuts off. You freeze. Your heart drops into your stomach, and your knees go weak. This is the call you’ve been waiting for. The one you’ve been dreading for years. It's the medical examiner's office calling to inform you your child is dead. You brace yourself and answer….

The girl on the other line tells you she’s calling from the Allegheny County Jail and asks if you knew your son was arrested. She goes on to say he was picked up for possession of heroin and possession of paraphernalia. An instant wave of relief comes over you as you collapse into a chair. “My son was arrested? He’s in jail? He isn’t dead? I was certain you were calling from the coroner's office to tell me he had overdosed.” The girl on the other line replies, “No, ma’am, he is in jail. I just spoke with him.” The mother tells you she is so relieved and happy, then immediately takes it back and apologizes, saying, “I’m sorry. You must think I am a horrible mother for being happy that my son is in jail.” The girl on the phone tells you there is no need to apologize. She’s been doing her job at the Allegheny County Jail for over ten years, and she’s made this call hundreds of times. She gets it. She completely understands. Until your child is in the ground or sitting in an urn on the mantle, this fight against drugs isn’t over. There is still hope. 

I was the girl from the jail making those calls. I could feel the pain that those families were experiencing through the phone. Their voices would shake. They’d often break down. 

Can you imagine your heart stopping every time your phone rings? Making the funeral arrangements in your head at night as you toss and turn in your bed? Looking at photos of him in his high school football uniform or your daughter in her marching band uniform, clutching her clarinet with a bright smile on her face? Constantly and relentlessly, you wonder, “How did this happen? How did we get here?” 

Parents aren’t supposed to bury their children. It goes against the natural cycle of life. But with the drug epidemic that is crushing this country, we are seeing more and more young people dying from overdoses. 

With each call I made over 14 and a half years, I could predict when a parent would think I was calling to tell them their child was dead based on the criminal record of that child. The more arrests for drugs I saw, the more I knew the family was panicked that time was running out. I would sit on the phone with these parents, sometimes for hours, while they would cry and beg me to tell them what they did wrong as parents that led their child to start using heroin. I would explain that during my many years of working at the jail and making these calls, the only answer I could ever come up with was, “I don’t know….”

Parents begged me to have the judge send their beloved child to rehab. I would explain that unless their son or daughter were ready to stop using heroin, any attempt at rehab would fail. They would plead for me to send them anyway. So, now I am trying to explain that when, not if, but when, that rehab fails the first thing they will do when they get out is buy heroin. And because they’ve been clean for several days, even weeks, that same stamp bag of heroin they’ve used tons of times without issue very well may end up being the one that kills them now that their tolerance has dropped. Using heroin at this point would be even more dangerous and that’s very hard for loved ones to hear but important for people to know.  

The loved one would immediately return to the beginning of the call and again ask why this happened. What did they do wrong? What didn’t they do? What should they have done? What do they do now? They feel helpless. They express how there is no one in their life they can talk to about this because no one understands what they are going through. And they're right. People don’t understand. Sadly, many don’t care. It’s not their child. What those same people don’t realize is it easily could have been.

Sometimes, addiction CAN be explained. There is a population of people who use it to numb the pain of abuse and PTSD or come from dysfunctional homes. Some are prescribed pain medication by doctors after an injury and then abruptly stop renewing the prescription, leading the patient to a painful detox. But others try it at a party, and that one time is all it takes. 

As a parent, you are fighting like hell to save your child. You’re standing in a crowded room of people screaming for help at the top of your lungs, and no one even bothers to look up. This is your child. The love of your life. The one who made you a turkey out of their handprint. The one who used to clutch your hand to walk. The one who would pull a daisy out of the ground and proudly present it to you. How can you not save them? You promised to always protect them. As far as you are concerned, you have failed as a parent. These parents continue to fight, but much too often, their efforts are futile. 

I would listen to them as they unleashed every word they’d wanted to say for years. They had nowhere to turn to grieve a loss they were almost certain was coming. And some of those defendants did end up dying. I would see their obituary in the paper and immediately think, “The parents finally got the call they were dreading.” My heart would break for them because I knew they would spend the rest of their lives blaming themselves for something that was never really in their control. 

Families of addicts need to know that some questions don’t have answers. When they accept that and stop looking, some peace will follow. But that peace is fleeting. So what do they do about it? It is so difficult to accept that these questions don’t have answers, but they can learn how to…

If someone you love is struggling with addiction and you want to talk about how this addiction is ripping you and your family apart, please email me at mindfulcoastcounseling.com or call me at 412-376-3479 

Kelly Rae Robertson

NCC, CCTS, M.S., M.S.C.J.

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The content of this post does not replace professional medical or mental health treatment or diagnosis.