Nic,
I don’t even know you and you’re breaking my heart. I’m not your mother, or your friend, or your mother’s friend. I don’t live in the same town or the same state; I didn’t go to the same schools; I don’t have any experience with drug addiction. We’re not even close in age – you weren’t born until the year I started high school. There’s really no reason for me to feel connected to you, other than the fact that I have sons. But I do. I do feel connected. And my heart is breaking, all over again.
– Me
About a year ago, I read David Sheff’s book,
beautiful boy. In it, he describes the joy he and his wife felt at having their son.“We are among the first generation of self-conscious parents. Before us, people had kids. We parent. We seek out the best for our children – the best stroller and car seat recommended by Consumer Reports – and fret over every decision about their toys, diapers, clothes, meals, medicine, teething rings, inoculations, and just about everything else.”
He goes on to describe Nic as a toddler:
“Nic is a natural architect and builder, constructing sprawling block, Duplo, and Lego Lilliputs…He scoots around the house on a big-wheeled tricycle and, on the red-brick front patio, in a plastic sky-blue convertible, a gift from my parents, which he powers like a Flintstones car with high-top sneakered feet.”
David Sheff describes reading books to his son over and over again – so often that he memorizes them. He describes a trip to Yosemite and playing board games, and all of the other parent-child interactions we fit into our lives, all of those things, big and little, that we do to help our children grow up into strong and secure adults.
Except Nic didn’t.
David Sheff continues:
“I tried everything I could to prevent my son’s fall into meth addiction. It would have been no easier to have seen him strung out on heroin or cocaine, but as every parent of a meth addict comes to learn, this drug has a unique, horrific quality…Nic claimed that he was searching for meth his entire life. ‘When I tried it for the first time,’ he said, ‘that was that’.”
As you can imagine, I am sobbing before I get through Chapter 1. Sheff does a beautiful job of describing his beautiful boy, and in his description, I see not only Nic, but all boys. I break down in a river of tears, thinking of all of the life and energy and love I have poured into my own three boys. I am reading the now blurry words and wondering if this could happen to one of my sweet babies, too.
Nic Sheff got clean, for awhile, and also wrote a book, in which he tells the story from his point of view. I read
Tweak shortly after I finished
beautiful boy. In Tweak, Nic describes a childhood spent careening towards addiction, starting with this incident when he was a year younger than my oldest son.
“When I was eleven my family went snowboarding up in Tahoe, and a friend and I snuck into the liquor cabinet after dinner. We poured a little bit from each bottle into a glass, filling it almost three-quarters of the way with the different-colored, sweet-smelling liquid. I was curious to know what it felt like to get good and proper drunk. The taste was awful. My friend drank a little bit and stopped, unable to take anymore. The thing was, I couldn’t stop.
I drank some and then I just had to drink more until the whole glass was drained empty. I’m not sure why. Something was driving me that I couldn’t identify and still don’t comprehend.”
He goes on to vividly describe his fall into the dark underbelly of San Francisco,
a city I love like no other. Listening to him struggle, listening to him describe the pain, and ecstasy, of his experience—his life—with such raw emotion, made me weep all over again.
Long after I turned their final pages, these books have stayed with me, haunted me, almost. I have thought about David and Nic and their lives and their struggles; I’ve thought about the whys and the hows and the what ifs; I’ve thought about choices and genetics and fate; I’ve wondered if he’ll ever really be clean.
And today I read
this. Nic relapsed last May, and again in December. These are not, by far, his first two, or his worst two, relapses. But the news is discouraging and disheartening. Still. Still relapsing. The whys re-emerge, they grab me and force me to look at my boys with fresh eyes. I am vigilant, fighting for my boys, watching and praying and hoping that they remain unscathed by this horrific mess called meth.
And I’m still cheering for you Nic. Still cheering.
Do you know what's going on now? It's so heartbreaking to think about. He seemed so sincere on the Oprah show. Being a recovering addict myself it is so disheartening. I have a two yr. Old daughter and I pray everyday that she will never know that world. Nick' wherever you are… You are also in my prayers..
Niki
I'm so consume by these two books, these two people. I wonder how Nic and his family are doing, I really wish he was still writing on his blog. Any news since his last relapse…?
I read Beautiful Boy last year and then my book club just discussed Tweak last night.
Addiction has been a part of my life since I was born and I lost my sister to meth five years ago.
She had two children – a boy and a girl (who turned 8 the day before her mama died).
Here are some of my blog posts about her:
http://daughterofopinion.blogspot.com/2005/05/it-never-ceases-to-break-my-heart.html
http://daughterofopinion.blogspot.com/2006/08/on-your-birthday-lisa_20.html
I, too, am the mother of a son – an 18 year old who is off to college for the first time. With addiction running in my family, I am also vigilant.
You are an excellent writer and I wish you and your three boys all the happiness in the world.
I just finished reading Beautiful Boy and am half way through Tweak. I got two things out of these books. I'm not sure why we avoid blaming parents for the problems their children have. It's not an all or nothing of course, but if we're going to take responsibility for good children, then we should take some responsibility for bad one.
My opinions come come from the authors themselves. Nic's dad point out that he should interceded in Nic's life when he first saw the sign of drugs. It's too late after they're 18 and an adult. Parenting is a 24/7 job. I'm not sure all parents think this way. I believe that raising a child requires eternal vigilance.
The second thing I got is about growing up too soon. Nic talks about how he felt he never had a childhood. When he was in LA with his mom, she was consumed with work and his step-dad is telling him about the women he's laid. When he's at home with his dad, he's going to parties and they are treating him like an adult. Nic says, my dad was more like a friend.
We cannot be friends to our children until they are adults. We must be parents first. This doesn't mean that we can't joke, laugh, and do all kinds of things with them, but we need to also be their parent, their guide through the maze of life. This means dealing with their anger. If you're child has never been angry at you, then you're not being much of a parent. It's a rough job growing up and children need tough love.
Nic's existence consists of an endless cycle of getting clean, relapse trigger, relapsing, blaming someone else, getting clean and then a photo op.
Go away Nic
im a mother of 3 sons… my youngest 2 boys are addicts… i have read davids book and im now starting nics… i have just paid off yet another dealer in fear that my 2nd son will get a beating… my youngest boy walked out when i told him that he couldnt smoke pot in the house… i am emotionaly and money drained… my love for all 3 of my children has been the same and there has been no differences made apart from the fact that i have bailed out my youngest 2.. eldest works and has never given me a second of worry… my heart is broken.. drugs have ripped my family apart… im hoping that by reading nics story i may understand a little more… x
I feel sorry for parents who have children that are addicts. I even worry my adult children might turn to drugs in order to cope
But I must repeat some of what I said earlier. Teenage problems begin when our children are young. Most of what they learn, they learn from adults. The example and discipline we give them are critical just as a bad example or lack of discipline are critical.
There will always be exceptions to the rule, but I believe good parenting when children are little and continuing through their teenage years is vital. Parents can't all of a sudden say, "my kid has a problem," when it's really too late to do anything about it, like in the case of Nic Sheff.
Too many parents see parenting as a part time job when it's a full time job. It's too bad our schools don't teach parenting. We have the knowledge to teach high school students how to be good parents, but we don't, and too often bad parents are the only example kids have. That's not because the parents don't love their children, but because they don't really know what good parenting is. They were never taught and/or didn't have a good example.
Nic is a douchebag, spawned from a douchebag.
Shut up and stay clean, or shut up and die. But please… shut the fuck up.
Someone seems to be a bit irritated by some of the comments and the fact some people have empathy for Nic and his dad. My mother always told me not to judge others unless we've walked a mile in their shoes. Maybe the last writer might try to be a bit more empathetic. I don't agree or support what Nic or his dad did, but I'm not them. We can only venture an opinion of what may have made the difference.
I know a family with 8 boys, all of whom became Eagle Scouts and grew up to be good citizens. Was it just a fluke? I doubt it.
Duke, It's not just the parents. I believe it is 50% DNA and 50% environmental. My son was in rehab for 2 months. I ws raised by 2 loving parents and have a degree in Early Childhood Education. My husband was also from a loving household and is a cop. We are loving parents to our 'Beautiful Boy." My husbands brother is an alcoholic, and my brother is an alcoholic. My son has been clean and sober since he was 17 and will be 21 end of this month. He goes to college and you would never know of his addictive personality by the way he treats us.