How are we going to get out of this?

The 60-year-old Norwegian from Hilversum has asked himself this question countless times. And there was never an answer. “Every time I thought, ‘Maybe we’ve reached the bottom of the hole,’ something worse happened.”

Nour’s son, whom we call Jarno (not his real name), became embroiled in a “downward spiral” when he was a 16-year-old teenager. “School wasn’t going well, he dropped out of school, and met the wrong friends. I also saw him walking more quietly, with broad arms and shoulders, doing kickboxing, and preferring to listen to his friends rather than to me or his sister.”…And because I knew That sweet, sociable and lovable boy was a stranger to me. “It’s as if we don’t know him anymore.”

It started with beer, smoking weed, coming home with red eyes, arguments, insults, slamming doors, and not being able to have a conversation. It ended with hard drugs, more arguments, “you just had to say ‘boo’ or it would escalate,” and no more sleeping in the house at all.

‘I was ashamed to death’

“At one point, when he was about 19 or 20, there were nights when I didn’t know where he was at all. When he was there, things immediately escalated in the house. When he was angry, he would hit everything in the house. The House Is Short When I was young, at a certain point I no longer dared to invite friends. I was living in a house with broken doors and I was terrified.”

There was also doubt in herself: How could her son have deteriorated to this extent? “My children grew up in a good neighborhood in Hilversum, Het Jue. They could go to school, we went on holiday, I worked but I was also home enough and we could talk about everything. It was always great in our house, they grew up.” He did not come Anything too short but also not spoiled. Did I do something wrong?”

Now Nour thinks about this matter more moderately and less strictly as well. “His father, my ex-boyfriend, cut off contact shortly after our son was born. That may have played a role in his alcoholism. If you’re feeling rejected, and you’re vulnerable to drugs, you’re young and unhappy and impressionable and in the wrong influence, guys, yeah, and then things go wrong quickly.”

Apathetic on the couch

Nour says it was “terrible” to see your child deteriorate in this way. “Sometimes he would sit on the sofa for hours carelessly. He would look right through us. We couldn’t contact him. I tried a lot. I called social workers, tried to talk, but he didn’t want to. He kicked the habit. It wasn’t necessary.” “

Things escalated a couple of years ago. Nour made the decision she never wanted to make: she showed her son to the door. “It’s not just about one addicted child, it’s about everything around him. I became more isolated, I became quieter, I talked to fewer people, I walked on eggshells. It was like I was on an island. I noticed that my daughter, who was “I’m already living in rooms, and I don’t want to come over anymore. My partner, who I also live with, said: ‘It’s not possible anymore.’ I didn’t want to leave my only child, but I also had another child.”

Garneau ended up on the street. Nour felt guilty, “I’m his mother,” but she also knew: something had to happen for him to realize that it couldn’t really be like this. It happened a few years ago, “I will never forget it.” Nour was working at GGD, on one of the testing streets, during the pandemic. The neighbors knew about her presence and went to her. “You have to go to the hospital now,” serious looks and panicked voices, “Jarno was found at the front door.” “I collapsed, completely cold.”

His girlfriend broke off the relationship, he lived in his car for months and, as it turned out, overdosed. “In the hospital I found a lot of misery. And I knew he had to fall hard at some point. That was now. He was very ashamed. I said, ‘You can come to live with me again, on one condition.’ “You’re kicking the habit.”

Jarno informed the doctor and ended up in a “very nice and accommodating” rehabilitation clinic. There he received treatment, individually, but also in a group. “I had to write him a letter about what happened to me. I have a feeling that something really clicked with him because of that letter.” After treatment he returned to live at home.

The stranger is gone

Nour remains realistic: once an addict, always an addict. “He’s always going to have to keep working on it.” But: the stranger has disappeared. Her son went back to it. “He’s doing very well. He’s in touch with debt help himself, he’s worked through everything, he has a job, and he’s hoping he has more peace of mind now that he knows he has ADHD and can get help with that.” “

This is what Nour noticed: You don’t just become addicted. Giving up the habit is not easy either. “That’s why I’m so proud of him. Because I know: It’s been a struggle for him. Talk a lot, persevere, look at yourself in the mirror. He doesn’t drink coffee anymore. He needs a lot of coffee.” Anyway, I will bring him this coffee with love.”

What else I brought home: Groceries for Christmas dinner. Because she’s looking forward to it again, for the first time in years. “Hope was important to me. I always had hope that things would go well, but no one gives you a date.” But now it looks like 2023 is the year things will be good. This Christmas, Nour is sitting at the table with her son, his new girlfriend (“a really nice, sweet girl”), her other daughter, and her supporters. “We’re out.”