Please Don't Do Meth In Our Bathroom

I’m just going to put it right out there…being a mom is tough. We are expected to know pant, shirt and shoe sizes of each child, remember doctor appointments, their friend’s names and who is dating who, as well as what each child will and will not eat. We drop them off at the lake, take them to practice and shuffle a car full of teenagers to the mall, after we have worked a full day for a boss who doesn’t understand how difficult his “simple” requests are. We do this every day and it becomes our routine. But occasionally, we have a day that halts our routine…that shakes us to the core…that makes time stand still. A day when we reminisce, recalling the day they were born and vividly remember holding our fine haired babies and gazing at their tiny fingers in our hands.

I rushed to the ER to find my then 16-year-old son lying in a hospital bed, eyes closed, and very still. The monitor was beeping wildly, lights flashing, displaying a heart rate of next-to-nothing, as the nurse rushed by me to check his vitals. She told me they were still waiting on the tox screen to know definitively what he took. My son, the boy I grew and taught how to use a fork and tie his shoes, was lying motionless in a hospital bed, hooked to machines, and I had to verify he was breathing. I sat there in the hard-plastic chair, a fabric curtain separating my life from the bustle of the ER. The man on the other side of the curtain was vomiting and there was a child screaming somewhere close. I started to pray. I stared at his face and his giant man feet hanging off the end of the bed. I started to cry and found my thoughts wondering back and forth from how this happened to what type of pie the cafeteria had. Then I became fixated on pie, I craved pie in my core. I knew my son needed to be admitted into a rehab facility but pie was so much easier to think about. It's crazy the ways we find to cope. 

I recall exactly how I felt when I drove my son to rehab and the vile things he said to me. He was in detox and was not happy. I was assured this is a normal phase and as soon as he detoxified his body I would be able to speak to him, and not the drugs that had control of him. I wish that was the end of the story of how Meth consumed our lives for more than 8 years. I say Meth consumed ‘Us’ because it was a family affair. My son checked himself out of rehab that time three days later. I then sent him to Canada for treatment where he miraculously snuck back into the United States and hitch-hiked his way to California. He was homeless for years, in and out of jail/ prison and all the while I was attending Nar-Anon meetings to learn how to disengage, stop enabling and to love him from a distance. Laura was with me. Laura sat on the phone with me while I cried or screamed or she told me stories about her adventures. I miss her…but that is another Blog post altogether.

I infused this candle with Judgment because that is exactly what this mother/son duo felt from the world. I had clearly fucked my son up- it was my fault. I judged myself, I felt the judgment from others and so did my son. He felt hopeless and was tormented with judgment. He felt the eyes and the looks when he walked down the street. He felt the comments. And yes, he looked like a skinny meth head, but he was my baby….my skinny meth head and it broke my heart.

 I am so happy to report that at 25 years old my baby boy is alive and sober. He has a full-time job and a girlfriend that I absolutely adore. His eyes are bright and his skin is clear and he is determined to be a dad one day. My son LOVES this candle. In fact, it is his favorite. This candle honors our journey together.

So to all the Judgmental pieces of shit- Knock It The Fuck Off. Stop sending me messages that I am making fun of addicts. I would never, EVER do that. My heart breaks for every single addict and their families and I am eternally grateful my son is alive and well. I made this candle as a reminder…also it never hurts to reinforce the house rules.

FYI...it was coconut cream pie. 

Stay Malicious.


14 comments


  • Annie

    I’ve been looking at these and this candle alone, with you description has me filling my cart.
    Throw back 9 years ago.. I was 17 and had been a functioning meth addict for 4 years, I decided to try Xanax and kept popping them and kept using, ingesting, injecting, snorting and smoking. Eventually I went into convulsions after a days binger, only one person at the place I was cared. They put me in there car, called a friend and dropped me off with them at the ER. I flatlined twice. My mother who kicked me out in Christmas when I was 15 was an RN in the ICU. I remember her fake crying but I had so many tubes I couldn’t tell her to fuck off. Her husband got me hooked on meth so I wouldn’t tell what he was doing to me and my sisters. She knew it and played the sympathy card hard, was so exhausted and partially sedated I could flip her off and that was it.

    Fast forward to 23, I had been with my husband for 5 years and made amends with her. I had been clean but would fuck up everh 6-8 months exactly.

    Age 25-she kept getting owis and I got sick of being a parent when she never was one to me. Missing and exploited children contacted me to see if I could verify myself in any pictures from a child porn bust. My sisters hated me for walking away and washing my hands of her. None of us have spoke in a year.

    26- struggling with fertility shit, realizing I’ve had 3 miscarriages in 12 months. Which makes marriage tough. And my husband said “if you haven’t been using meth for half your life….” right then he realized he fucked up and I know he said it out of exhaustion and disappointment.

    So with living in meth capital it’s an everyday battle. But I’m fighting like hell for a baby and making a family and serving the Lord.

    And this candle is going in my bathroom as a reminder I’m a bad bitch to have lived a shitty life so far and dope is never an option again.


  • Terry

    Moms to moms. Humans to humans. We’re all in this together and you’re never alone…even when you really want to be; so you run away….like maybe to a matinee movie, in the middle of the week, where no one can bother you for two entire hours. Just because it makes you look sad to be alone in a theatre watching a matinee in the middle of the week, relish in your freedom. The internet trolls can’t reach you there.


  • Beverly Quinby

    This was one of the first candles I bought for my dear friend who is coming up on 7 years sober – from meth. She laughed so hard when she opened her sobriety gift. Only individuals who walk through the journey of torment of addiction either as a loved one or the addict truly get it. I remember meeting your son and hearing some of his story. It is wonderful news to hear he is still clean and sober today and thriving. It is because of your unfailing love as a parent.
    Many blessings to you and yours.


  • Dawn Anzelone

    This just reinforced my thoughts on you making a “Dumb Ass” collection.
    Like hey “Dumbass” why don’t you mind your own fucking business… ( Because it’s literally “your” business so you can do what you want) Woot woot woot
    As for me.. I am a obvious dumbass because if you look at my previous comment it was cut short since my fingers and brain are obviously not on the same page… probably due to all the meth I was doing in your bathroom!!!!! ☯️❤️✝


  • Dawn Anzelone

    This just reinforced my thoughts on you having a “Dumbass”


Leave a comment