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Three times we had to prosecute for theft because it was so impacting to our family. He didn't steal a little bit of money. He stole thousands of dollars at a time. Why are you here today? We had to go before--they call it a Community Corrections Board. They called him names. They insulted him. They belittled him. They tormented him for about 10 minutes--not for very long because they probably got 20 of these people coming through in a day. Stealing from your own mother? They were brutal. "Why would you steal from your mother? Who steals from their mother?" This is your life. You know, all we've heard since the last 15 years. He told me he hated me. He told me when I died, he would dance on my grave. "Why are you doing this to me, Mom?" Worse and worse-- Lies and excuses.

So my son was 13 years old when we started noticing some pretty significant changes in his life.

He was our fourth child, so we were pretty familiar at that point with what teenage boys looked like.

Ready? Yeah. We've got to go. OK. Let's go. And he began not to look right. It didn't--and I don't mean just physically not look right, but emotionally, he didn't look right.

Money started disappearing--at first just $5 or $10, and then it became $100, $200, $250 a week. He became withdrawn from the family. His grooming changed, his habits changed. He began missing school. His friends changed.

Addiction is a very selfish issue. You cease to have relationships with people. You view people as a resource, a means of fulfilling all of your needs.

And so that's what we saw. It was, we became resources for him. He would lie. He would steal.

I have learned that behind every addict is a family that suffers horribly as well. And they suffer very much in isolation. There's not a lot of sympathy or understanding of it. There's certainly not a lot of support. Oftentimes people judge parents for the choices their children make. Why don't you just talk to him? Why don't you just ask? Where have you been? So at 17, we said, "If you're going to stay in our home, there are going to be some rules." He said, "I'm not going to live by your rules." And so my husband said, "Well, you've got 15 minutes. Go get what you want." Where am I supposed to go, Dad? I don't know. Get your stuff and get out of here. When I heard my husband say that, I was relieved. I thought, "Thank you. Thank you. Maybe we can sleep. Maybe tonight we can sleep, and I don't have to hide my wallet, and I don't have to lock the kids' doors." And then I was ashamed because no mother should be grateful that she can't take care of her children.

So he walked out the door. It was in the middle of November. It was cold.

I was driving one day. It was really cold. I saw this kind of slightly built--it looked like a kid shuffling along in the snow in sandals that didn't cover his feet well. And he was kind of hunkered down; he had just a hoodie on. And he looked up, and I thought, "Oh, my gosh, that's my son." But he had disappeared and I couldn't find him.

I always slept really good when he was in jail. They're basically safe. They get three meals a day, and they're clean. And you know where they are.

This particular time, he was out of the home and he came to me. He looked horrible. He always looked horrible when he was heavy into using. And he knocked on the door and he says, "Mom, I'm hungry. Can you give me something to eat?" I said, "Well, yes. Yes, I'll always feed you." And he said, "OK, if I come to your house every day at noon, could you give me something to eat?" And I said, "Yes, I will do that. I will leave you something on the doorstep every day at noon. You come and I'll have something for you to eat. But I'm sorry that you cannot come into our house," because every time he came in, he stole from us.

I did a lot of counseling in those days. I was on antidepressants. I did a lot to try and keep myself stable. The counselor told me something that was so powerful. She said, "Your greatest challenge is going to be learning to love your son and not enable the addict. And that is going to be a dance you'll do as long as he's involved in his addictions."

And I'd get my dishes, and then I'd go in my room and I'd cry because I couldn't save my son--because I couldn't save my son. Answer the question. How many times? Stealing from your own mother? How many times am I going to have to see you here? Who does that? You're wasting everyone's time. You. Who are you? Why are you here today?

I said, "Well, I've come to advocate for my son. You have to know, my son is not a criminal. My son is an addict, and he needs help to get rehabilitated. And if you put him in prison, you won't be helping him; you'll criminalize him. And so I'm asking you to put him in a halfway house." And so they talked amongst themselves for a minute and decided to put him in the halfway house. It was a three-year sentence. And then as we were walking out the door, they said to him, "We're doing this for your mom, not for you. And you need to get a job." And he did.

It's now been 17 years that we've been dealing with this. He's gotten better. He is not sober all the time. He still drinks occasionally. But we have established rules for him to be in our home. And a boundary isn't about trying to control the addict. It's about trying to protect ourselves from the addict's behavior and to keep ourselves safe. So a boundary for us was, "If you steal from us, you've got to know I'm going to prosecute you because that's not OK." So what I've learned through this whole experience is that you've got to learn how to love the son and not enable the addict. And so it's a dance we still do. [MUSIC PLAYING]