Voluntary Missing Adults

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; he rescues those whose spirits are crushed.” ~Psalm 34:18

Recently, I read a news article regarding the growing problems of dealing with voluntary missing adults. A fast-growing trend, adults are unable to handle fundamental life challenges. With a quick plan, they up and remove themselves from their life. Leaving nothing but fear for their families and a dead-end trail to nowhere.

My initial thoughts were cowardly, weak, selfish, and disappointing. It is the ultimate act of cruelty against any parent out there. However, the article left out the elephant in the room: addiction. There was no mention that many of the thousands on this list are not missing but lost. Broken souls everywhere are lost in a life they loathe but can’t live without. Every day, warriors choose recovery and are missing no more. In the wait, are the families left behind?

My kinder and more compassionate side lives in great pain in this exact situation. As I’ve shared before, the one-year mark is fast approaching. How did we get here, and why? I examine my past decisions, boundaries, and trials with a fine tooth comb. In a strange twist, I question myself more than my loved one. That is the sick effect of addiction. I’ve stayed and carried these burdens alone.

If you have read any of this blog, you are well aware of the wounds and scars that addiction leaves in our hearts and minds. The experience shared here is raw and authentic. I created a vulnerable space. Healing required the outlet. My grandkids deserved a healed version of me, not the broken one this journey could have led to.

I received the call, “I’m ready to come home,” two years ago. There were challenges. I promised my beautiful grands I would never allow addiction back in my home. The gift of having our loved one back is immeasurable. However, before I could open my door, they had to open the door to treatment. They refused.

Setting new boundaries was a challenge my loved one didn’t appreciate. These boundaries, set for our collective safety, were non-negotiable. I focused on protecting the innocent lives left behind and maintaining my sanity. After years of overextending myself, I had to step back. It was tough. I always believed I was helping my loved one, but I now realize I was only enabling the addiction.

Every day was excruciating. A snowy day brought me deep worry. I questioned everything I did or did not do. I had to convince myself I was doing what had to be done every day. Failure, in this case, isn’t just when something fails; it’s when nothing works. Every plea, every plan for recovery disposed of, every number to a shelter refused. Yet, the parent feels the failure and carries the guilt.

In her mind, I gave up, let go, and abandoned her. She told me I don’t love her anymore. It took me months to sleep normal again. The deep hurt from her words had their desired intent, but I chose to heal and move forward. Now, I wait. We all wait.

To my voluntarily missing loved one:

My dear, my love for you is unchanging. Addiction may try to sever our bond, but it will never succeed. There’s nothing you can do that will alter my love for you. Every cherished memory, every shared laughter and joy, they all remain intact. Addiction can never control my heart; it may try, but it will always fail.

I’ve always been your biggest fan, my beautiful daughter, and I still am. Even though we’re physically apart, I remain in your cheering section. I pray and hope for the day you return to us all. You may not know it, but I still believe in your ability to heal, grow, mend broken relationships, and form new, healthy ones.

As I’ve always said, this is a blink in time. Life is full of ups and downs. You deserve healing, happiness, forgiveness, and love. You are worthy of a whole life in recovery. You are worthy of recovered health, acceptance, love, relationships, and growth. You deserve to be seen, heard, appreciated and held.

We are here waiting and ready to hear from you. You are missed, cherished, deeply loved, and never forgotten.

God bless the road that brings you back.

Your mom,

Lisa

About the Author

Lisa Wenninger is a speaker, writer, podcaster, and Kingdom Winds Collective member. She currently manages a local church with a family of believers she loves. Lisa enjoys volunteering as a Stephen Minister and being able to walk alongside others in their time of need. She is an animal lover (former assistant to the director at this fantastic location), a beach enthusiast, and enjoys hiking, museums, and eating out. Fun fact - she loves to sing but says that you don’t want to hear her do it.

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