"My darling girl, today marks 2 years since ice took you away from me."

A devastating message from a mother who no longer recognises her daughter.

My darling girl,

Today marks two years since ice took you away from me. Again.

I don’t know where you are or who you live with. I can barely recognise you in the images you upload to Facebook.

You are thin, your pupils are always dilated and you always have a cigarette hanging from your mouth. Your once gorgeous blonde hair is now dirty, long and unkempt. Your smile disappears deep into your cheekbones. Your clothes – darling, you were always so proud of your clothes – are now tattered and stained. Your teeth have started falling out. You are so far removed from the healthy looking 25-year-old I know you could be.

Instead you are an addict.

An addict who steals from her family.

An addict who feeds herself on ice and alcohol.

An addict who looks like she belongs in the gutter.

An addict who is my daughter.

An addict who refuses my help.

An addict, whom I love unconditionally.

Two years ago, you came home and asked for help. At that stage, you had been hooked on cocaine and had run out of money. You realised you were in a bad way, so we took you to rehabilitation, where you stayed for six months. For some, it would be a short stint, but it was too long for you. You convinced us you were better. You always had your father and me wrapped around your little finger; even your devoted grandfather believed you were better. You fooled us all.

We convinced ourselves you would finally get your life back on track. You even started looking for a job – remember how that turned out? You felt good. Like your ‘clean’ personality was worth something. It was a confidence boost that was truly deserved.

But after three weeks of stacking boxes at Woolies, you fell into the wrong crowd again.

This time, ice. And we haven’t seen you since.

Your father blames himself. Your grandfather blamed himself. I blame myself. But after two years, I have realised that nobody is to blame but that drug.

The change in you was immediate. You were faded away as soon as it entered your veins. You became obnoxious, rude, spaced out, dumb. And then suddenly, it was the drug acting and talking on your behalf. You were suddenly dangerous. Our beautiful girl who was handed everything on a silver platter vanished, and a monster entered.

Perhaps that’s where we went wrong. Did we give you too much? Did we say yes too often? Maybe if we had been a little firmer with you, a little stronger and said “no”, this wouldn’t have happened. But I won’t fall down that rabbit warren of guilt again. God knows how long it has taken me to come out of there.

You ran away with the bloke who’d gotten you hooked onto that disgusting drug. The devil’s drug. And you haven’t made contact since. Even when your beloved grandfather got sick. Even when he died. We called you. We left you Facebook messages, we even tried calling the police at your last known destination. But we never heard back. To say our hearts broke was an understatement. They were ripped out and stamped on.

My girl, I am watching you die from a distance. From a computer screen. And there is nothing I can do.

My friends tell me I should intervene. That I should try and find you – but you don’t want to be found. There are traces of you on Facebook, but in each photo you appear more gaunt and more crazed.

Your friends have tried getting in touch with you too, but you ignore them.

I want to tell you that you don’t have to disconnect from us. I want to tell you I love you. Unconditionally. No matter what you have done.

I want to tell you that there is still hope for a semi-normal life. One with people who make you feel good, people who encourage you to do positive things with your brain.

I want to tell you everyday that you don’t need ice. But, of course, you know that by now. In the end I think ice needs you.

I want to tell you these things every day. But I am talking to a drug. A drug that is selfish. A drug that makes you crazed. A drug that has taken away my daughter.

One day, I will say these things to you. But for now, I just need to get them out there into the universe.

And maybe, hopefully, you will hear me.

This post originally appeared on Debrief Daily. The author is known to Mamamia, but has chosen to remain anonymous. 

Read more:

Jacqui Lambie reveals son’s ice addiction, calls for rethink on how to tackle drug addiction.

“You do not need to be an addict to be devastated by ice. I should know.”

It’s one of the cheapest illicit drugs on the market. It also has the potential to do the most damage.

Do you know someone affected by an ice addiction?