My Life As 3D

"A Soft Place to Land"

2012-01-31T10:59:00.004-05:00

While on hiatus from actual blogging, I thought I'd share this beautiful song with all of you. It's by my favorite female musical artist, Canadian singer-songwriter Kathleen Edwards. This song appears on her latest album Voyageur and it's helped me get through some tough times over the last several months. I'm still looking for a soft place to land.

Hiatus (again)

2012-01-24T16:40:00.002-05:00

Back in July, I made a very short post here that read:

I'm going on hiatus for a bit. I'm feeing a bit overwhelmed by everything right now and don't really feel like talking about any of it. It's not a good feeling. Hopefully I'll get over it soon.

Well, I've decided to go on hiatus again. For what it's worth, my son did decide to go to the sober living house in Ypsilanti. So he's not homeless. At least for now. But things aren't going that well, and I'm just drained. Emotionally and physically. So I'm going to step back from the blog for a bit.

I'll probably be back. I just don't know when.

Peace.

It's time to cut the cord

2012-01-06T11:04:00.003-05:00

Tough morning around here.

The manager of the sober living house our son is living at talked to my wife this morning. They want our son to move out, and relocate to another house in Ypsilanti, Michigan, which is very close to Ann Arbor. It seems our son isn't doing anything that's being asked of him. He's not getting up on time, not keeping his room clean, etc. The house manager has tried repeatedly to get our son's behavior to change, but to no avail.

Our son, of course, texted my wife and told her he wasn't going to the new house. He said he's sick of sober living houses and the bullshit, and that she should come and pick him up. My wife told him she wasn't going to pick him up and that he needed to move to the new house and start doing what is asked of him. And if he doesn't, then we're done supporting him.

I just tried calling my son to lay it all out for him, but--surprise!--he didn't didn't answer his phone. So we will keep trying to get in touch with him today to tell him his options: A.) Move to the Ypsilanti house and start getting with the program. Or B.) Be totally cut off from us. And by "totally cut off," my wife and I mean totally cut off. No money. No food. No rides. No cigarettes. No visits to home. No contact with the family. It would be like the ultimatum given to the addicts on the TV show "Intervention": If you don't do what you're being asked to do, we will no longer be a part of your life.

It pains me to think about Option B, but it's time. It's actually way beyond time. My wife and I, along with other family members, have spent years trying to help our son. We've made huge sacrifices. We've spent thousands and thousands of dollars. And after all that, we're pretty much right back to square one. The madness has got to stop. If our son wants to get his life moving in the right direction, he has to take the steps necessary to do that. And if he doesn't? Well, then that's his choice, and we'll wish him luck.

Maybe he'll change his mind and move to the new house. Maybe he'll start doing what he needs to do to better his life. I hope and pray that that happens, but at this point I'm not real confident. And if he chooses to go his own way, it's time to cut the cord.

Happy New Year

2012-01-01T13:30:00.002-05:00

I haven't posted here since before Christmas, so I thought I'd check in.

My son was home for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Unfortunately, it didn't go so well.

On Christmas Day, right before dinner, he said he was going for a walk. My wife and I told him he couldn't go, because that was one of the boundaries we had set prior to his visit. Our son insisted that he didn't have any money, so there was no way he was going to do anything bad. We stuck to our guns, though, and he was not at all happy about it.

Well, later on we found out our son did have money. It turns out my mom had given him some because he told her he had to buy a Christmas gift for someone. Another lie. More manipulation. Same old bullshit.

After dinner, our son admitted to us that he had wanted to go get "fucked up" because he was feeling "fucked up." (His depression is really kicking his ass lately. He needs to get back into therapy, which is something we're working on.)

Needless to say, the Christmas Day incident kind of put a damper on the whole weekend. My son was also very distant and quiet the whole time he was home. Given the chance to do it all over again, my wife and I would've picked him up on Christmas morning and taken him back to his sober living house on Christmas night. Having him stay at home for two nights just wasn't a good idea. Live and learn.

When my son was getting ready to have my wife drive him back to Ann Arbor on Monday morning, I broke down in tears and hugged him tightly. I told him that I love him more than anything in the world, but that I hope he'll realize someday how much pain and hardship he's caused the family. I also told him that he has incredible potential, and that I hope he gets on the right path soon so he can take advantage of that potential. It was a very emotional moment for me and I cried like a baby for about an hour straight after my son left.

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So today is New Year's Day. Goodbye, 2011...Hello, 2012. It's been almost seven years since my son started battling addiction, and every New Year's I hope the coming year will be better than the previous one. Today is no different. My wife and I will try to stay strong and continue to work on our own recovery. Letting go is hard, but I think we're slowly making some progress.

Progress, not perfection. One day at a time.

Happy New Year to everyone who reads this blog. And thanks for your support. I wish nothing but good things for you and your families in 2012.

Home for Christmas

2011-12-24T07:57:00.002-05:00

As I type this post, my wife is on her way to Ann Arbor to pick up our son. He is coming home for Christmas weekend and we will take him back to his sober living house on Monday. Although I'm sure it will be a bit stressful, we're all really looking forward to spending Christmas together. (There are also three cats in this house who will be thrilled to see their buddy again.)

Today we will decorate our tree. It's been up since last weekend, but we've been waiting for our son to come home before we decorate it. After that, we'll probably just hang out, wrap gifts, watch football, and enjoy being together at home.

Tomorrow we will exchange gifts and I will cook up a nice Christmas dinner.

Nothing too overhwelming. Just a nice Christmas weekend together. Fingers crossed.

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On a Christmas-related note, yesterday my wife and I went to our local Kmart store and anonymously paid off the layaway balances for three people. Money has been tight for us lately, but we know there are a whole lot of other families in much worse shape than us. Hopefully our gesture will help make this Christmas a little happier and a little easier for those three people and their families. And being "Secret Santas" made my wife and I feel pretty special inside.

'Tis the season.

Majoring in "Recovery"

2011-12-18T11:40:00.003-05:00

So, my son has been living in a sober living house in Ann Arbor for almost two weeks now. Things have been up and down with him, but at least I'm pretty sure that he's clean and sober. At least nobody at the house has told us otherwise (they do drug test the residents). So that's a good thing.

Monday was his 22nd birthday, and we weren't able to be with him to celebrate. But we did go out and visit him on the Saturday before, took him to lunch, bought him a bus pass, and did some shopping at the mall. It was nice to hang out with him, and even nicer for him and his brother to have some quality time together.

I think my son is a bit disappointed to be back in Michigan. In a perfect world, I think he would've liked to have stayed in Palm Springs, with the warm California weather and the new friendships he had made. But he didn't follow the rules, and I think he thought heading back east was his only option. The house he's living in now is nowhere near as nice as the sober living house he was living in in California. He went from living in a pretty plush place to living in the basement of a house that's much--how shall I say it?--less comfortable. But I guess that's a consequence of his actions.

I do think Ann Arbor is a good place for him to be, though, assuming he embraces it, works hard on his recovery, and gets/stays serious about moving forward on the right path. I told him the other day to think in his mind that he's attending the University of Michigan and majoring in "Recovery." He's in a great college town and living in a house that's probably the kind of house he'd be living in if he was living off-campus as a student. He needs to "go to class" every day, study hard, and work towards that Recovery "degree." It would be nice if he found some kind of work, too, because Lord knows my finances will not be able to support both him and the rest of the family much longer.

This week will be tough. With Christmas coming up a week from today, my wife and I haven't quite figured out what to do about our son coming home for the holiday. He said the house manager told him he would be allowed to come home for two days. While that sounds great, and we'd love to have him spend some time with us--he hasn't been in our house in almost four months--there will more than likely be a huge amount of stress associated with such a visit.

My wife and I are in the process of coming up with a list of "boundaries" that we would expect our son to follow if he comes home for Christmas. While we don't want to be too controlling, the simple fact of the matter is that if he's going to be spending time here, he's going to have to follow house rules. That may even include not going to visit friends who live nearby, because some of those friends are still doing the kinds of things that our son just can't do if he wants to stay clean. One stupid decision could get him kicked out of the house in Ann Arbor; then he would be in an incredibly difficult position.

I'm not sure if he'll agree to the rules we set forth. But if he doesn't, we will probably just tell him we'll pick him up on Christmas morning, let him spend the day at home, and then take him back later in the evening. I guess the choice will be his.

The holidays are always stressful. But when you're the parent of an addict, that stress can be multiplied exponentially. And then some. I have to remember that my life--and my recovery--are important, too. Sometimes it's easy to lose sight of that. But I'm working harder on staying focused on me. I think I need to major in "Recovery," too.

Tough morning

2011-12-10T09:33:00.001-05:00

I think I just had some sort of mini breakdown. Haven't cried that much in a long time. Sometimes it's the only way to feel better. So happy to have such a wonderful wife. She helped me through it.

One day at a time.

Back to Michigan

2011-12-04T10:30:00.003-05:00

Through a series of unfortunate events, my son's California treatment/sober living days have come to an end after a little more than three months. There's no need to detail everything that happened, but the unfortunate events did include another relapse, which resulted in a positive drug test and my son's expulsion from his sober living house. Rules are rules, and if you break them you will suffer the consequences. At some point, that has to sink in, doesn't it?

During the series of unfortunate events, one thing did happen that made me extremely proud of my son. A girl he knows, who is also in recovery and was also kicked out of her sober living house, texted him late one night from her hotel room. She told him that she had just taken all of her meds. My son reacted by waking up someone in his house who had a car, going to the hotel, and taking the girl to the hospital. The woman who runs the sober living house told my wife that our son "saved that girl's life." That's pretty powerful.

So tomorrow, my son flies from Palm Springs back to Michigan. He's coming "home," but he's not coming home. Arrangements have been made for him to move into a sober living house in Ann Arbor, which is about an hour's drive from where we live. The house appears to be a decent place--though nowhere near as nice as the Palm Springs digs--and the guy who owns it is in recovery himself. It's near a bus line (Ann Arbor has a great bus system), near the University of Michigan Addiction Treatment Services (which has top-notch outpatient care), and is reasonably priced. Ann Arbor is also supposed to be a very recovery friendly city, with lots of AA and NA support meetings to attend, a large recovering community, and a strong support network. I think there should be some decent job opportunities there, too.

This whole "move" is happening pretty quickly, and my wife and I were scrambling a bit yesterday, making sure our son got all his "extra" stuff to the UPS Store so they could pack it and ship it back here. (He ended up with more stuff in Palm Springs than he originally took there because we had sent him things he had needed/wanted over the course of his stay there.) One observation: Having a bunch of clothes and books and a guitar packed and shipped from California to Michigan isn't cheap.

Late tomorrow afternoon, we will pick our son up at the airport, take him to his new sober living house, and help him get situated. It'll be great to see him, but I wish it was under different circumstances. I'm also not sure how it's going to be having him in sober living so close to home. Yes, it's an hour away, but it's way closer than California. I'm pretty sure he might lobby to come home at some point. But that really isn't an option anymore. At least not until he gets some quality sober time under his belt and gets back to working the program seriously.

December is going to be a tough month. My son's 22nd birthday is only eight days away. And, of course, Christmas is right around the corner. I'm not sure how these days will be celebrated, but I guess we'll figure it all out as it comes.

I really hope this Ann Arbor thing works out, because it's probably the last option we can afford. The last few months--the last few years, really--have drained us financially, and at some point my son is going to have to take full responsibility for his recovery; if he ultimately chooses to recover. My wife and I have to do what's best for us and for our younger son. We have lives, too.

The next couple of days will be interesting and challenging. But then, being the parent of an addict is always interesting and challenging. That's the nature of the beast. If you're reading this post, please take a moment to say a prayer or think a good thought for my family...especially for my son.

Frustrated

2011-11-26T09:05:00.003-05:00

My son was kicked out of his Intensive Outpatient Program (IOP) because he didn't go yesterday. He was pretty much on "final probation" after not showing up for three days in a row last week. They told him if he chose not to show up again, he was out. So, it's not like he wasn't warned. But it's a shame, because he still had multiple days left that the insurance company was going to cover. Oh, well.

I'm just so frustrated. As I told a friend in an e-mail yesterday, my wife and I have done everything we can possibly do to help our son. It just seems like he's not interested in doing what he has to do to turn his life around. He seemed to be doing well for the first month or so that he was out in Palm Springs. But now? Not so much. He talks a good game at times. But he doesn't follow through on anything he says he's going to do. I'm so tired of carrying his baggage. I think it's time to just let him go.

By the way, we never heard my son's voice on Thanksgiving. We tried to call him and he didn't answer his phone. He did send my wife a text message at one point that said "Happy Thanksgiving." My wife replied and asked him to call us, but he never did. I guess that was his choice.

Happy Thanksgiving

2011-11-24T08:21:00.002-05:00

It's Thanksgiving Day and I will confess to feeling more than a little sad. I feel like there's a big hole in my heart because my son is in California and won't be with us today. Yesterday, while doing some early cooking for today's big meal, I found myself sobbing uncontrollably while cutting and de-seeding acorn squash. Pretty much every time I think of my son lately, I start crying. Go figure.

I hope my son is able to share this day with other people in recovery. The woman who runs his sober living house told us that she has a big Thanksgiving dinner at one of her houses for everyone who is still in town for the holiday. And there is an open house at the IOP (Intensive Outpatient Program) facility, too. So there will be places for my son to celebrate Thanksgiving. I just hope he takes advantage of the opportunities.

Today I will cook my ass off and watch some football. Then I will sit down and eat (too much) with my wonderful wife, my younger son, and my family. My oldest sister, who lives in New York, came to town for a surprise visit and will be here for dinner. Joining us will be my parents, my other sister, and my brother. It's been a while since my parents and all my siblings have been in the same spot for Thanksgiving. So I will try my best to enjoy this day.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

Lies

2011-11-21T21:08:00.003-05:00

More lies from my son today. Very disappointing. I know the lies are just another part of my son's disease. But that doesn't take away the pain that's inflicted every time he lies to me and my wife.

No need to go into details about what happened. Just know--if you didn't already--that trusting an addict is something that can't be done. It doesn't matter if the addict is a stranger, a co-worker, a neighbor, a sibling...or even your own son. It doesn't matter if the addict is in the same house, or if they're 2,300 miles away. In their world, honesty is not the best policy. They just do and say whatever they have to in order to get whatever it is that they want. It's so incredibly selfish. And it's part of the disease.

The old sports saying says, There's no "I" in "team." That may be true. But there is an "I" in "addict." And all it cares about is itself.

When will it sink in?

2011-11-20T10:17:00.004-05:00

It's been 89 days since my son went to Palm Springs, California, for his latest round of treatment. After 39 days of inpatient treatment at Michael's House, he moved into sober living. That happened on October 1st. Almost two months ago. And yet, after nearly three months total in Palm Springs, my son still doesn't seem to "get" it.

His recent relapse was disappointing, but it was still something I could deal with. Relapse is part of the disease, and it is a very small percentage of addicts who get sober without ever relapsing. That's just an unfortunate fact of life. The things I do have tremendous difficulty dealing with, though, are the things my son does--or doesn't do--that seem to indicate he just doesn't care. For example...

While he's been away, my son has overdrawn his bank account multiple times. This is the account my wife and I deposit money into so our son has money to buy groceries and other essentials. We've told him numerous times to keep better track of his money, and to be careful not to overdraw the account. But he just keeps doing it. And it costs us money in bank fees whenever it happens. Last night my wife told him to send us his debit card and we would just wire him money from now on. That costs $5.00 a pop, but it's way cheaper than the bank fees.

A week ago yesterday, my son had a first appointment scheduled with a new therapist who came highly recommended by another family whose son is in recovery. We sent the therapist a check to pre-pay for the session. But guess what? Our son decided to just not go. No phone call to the therapist or anything. He just didn't go.

This past Friday, we got a call from the head of the Intensive Outpatient Program (IOP) at Michael's House. He said our son hadn't been to IOP in three days, and that if he didn't call or show up by Monday they were going to discharge him, because he wasn't living up to the terms of the program. When my wife called our son to tell him this, he said he's been having trouble sleeping and hadn't been able to get up in time to go to IOP. That story sounds a bit fishy to me, but at least he called the head of the IOP late Friday afternoon and told him he would be there on Monday. Will that actually happen? We'll have to wait and see.

It's these types of things that make me wonder if my son really cares about getting sober. Or if he thinks he's just on vacation out in California for a while on our dime. To be perfectly honest, my wife and I are very close to telling him that we're cutting him off. No more money, no more assistance with anything. That may seem harsh, and it would probably really hurt us to have to do that. But I'm not sure we have many choices left. We continue to be taken advantage of, and it's getting old.

If we cut him off, I can't imagine what would happen to our son. He has no job, no car, no driver's license, no other place to live. There are only nine days left in November, and when the end of the month comes there will be hard decisions to be made. Do my wife and I want to continue financing what seems like a less-than-sincere attempt at recovery? I don't think so. Can we possibly come to the incredibly painful decision to cut our son off completely? I'm not sure. But the clock is ticking.

There were two more little things that happened yesterday--which happened to be my twenty-third wedding anniversary--that really made me sad.

During an exchange of text messages with our son about the bank issues, my wife finally texted him from the restaurant we had gone to for a celebratory lunch and said, "I'm done talking about this for now. We're celebrating our anniversary." She got no message back. Nothing at all. It might sound a bit selfish, but we both thought it would've been nice if our son had at least replied with "Happy anniversary." But he didn't.

Then, late yesterday afternoon I posted a quotation to my son's Facebook wall. It was a quote that I really like, and I felt it was rather appropriate:

"Decide that you want it more than you are afraid of it." --Bill Cosby

I was hoping my son might find some inspiration in that quote. But instead, he deleted the post from his Facebook wall. That may sound like a trivial thing, but it kind of hurt me. On the other hand, maybe he is afraid. Maybe that's why he deleted it.

I think it's going to be a tough week in our house. Thanksgiving is coming up on Thursday, and this will be the first Thanksgiving we've ever spent without our son. I'm sure there will be some tears shed. He can be a tremendous pain in the ass a lot of the time. But we do miss and love him. I just hope the whole recovery thing sinks into him soon.

Addiction's effect on the family

2011-11-17T09:04:00.004-05:00

Over the last several years, I’ve thought countless times about the adverse effects my son’s addiction has had on our family; especially how it has affected our younger son. There’s no denying it: addiction is a family disease, and it takes its toll on everyone in the family.

Well, yesterday I came across one of the most powerful and moving pieces I’ve read in a long time. It was written by Nic Sheff. Nic is the son of David Sheff, the author of Beautiful Boy: A Father’s Journey through His Son’s Addiction—one of the best books I’ve ever read. Nic is also an author, and his first book, Tweak, was published around the same time as his father’s book. The two books tell the tale of Nic’s addiction from two different perspectives.

The piece I read yesterday was written by Nic Sheff for a website called the fix: addiction and recovery, straight up. It’s a great site, and there is plenty of good reading there. But this piece, entitled “Brother and Child Reunion” really hit home for me. The story tells how Nic’s addiction affected his little brother and sister. And his family. Needless to say, our family has experienced a lot of what Nic writes about.

Reading this piece was tough for me, and I was in tears by the time I got through it. But I am so grateful that Nic wrote it. And that I came across it. I also e-mailed the link to the story to my son in California. I asked him to do me a favor and just read the article. My hope is that maybe some of what Nic Sheff wrote will strike a chord with my son, and maybe help him realize that his addiction is not only his disease.

Do yourself (and me) a favor and take a few minutes to read this wonderful piece by Nic Sheff. Here’s the direct link:

http://www.thefix.com/content/brother-and-child-reunion6005

Home for the holiday?

2011-11-13T09:17:00.002-05:00

My wife got a text message from our son yesterday in which he asked if he was coming home for Thanksgiving. He said that "all his friends" from sober living were going home for Thanksgiving. So he wondered if he was coming home, too.

This caught us by total surprise, because having our son come home for Thanksgiving hadn't really entered our mind. When he agreed to stay in sober living through at least November, we assumed that meant he'd be in California for Thanksgiving. Maybe that was wrong on our part, but that's what we thought. And that's what my wife told him when she replied to his text message.

To be perfectly honest, we don't have the money to fly our son home for Thanksgiving and then fly him back. The expense of rehab and sober living has drained us financially. A flight from Palm Springs to Detroit at holiday time, especially on this short notice, would be completely unaffordable--if there was even a flight available.

We also wonder if in fact "all" of our son's sober living friends are indeed going home for the holiday. We find it hard to believe that everyone has the means to fly home for Thanksgiving and then fly back. These guys are from all over the country, and airfare isn't cheap. It could be that our son is just homesick; or maybe he's looking for an excuse to come home for whatever reason. We don't really know.

When my wife texted him back yesterday afternoon asking him if all his friends were really going home for Thanksgiving, our son never replied. Eighteen hours later, he still hasn't replied. So he's probably angry with us. Or maybe "all" his friends aren't really going home for Thanksgiving. Who knows. But all of this was a big stressor for me on an otherwise beautiful Saturday afternoon.

Maybe we'll hear back from our son today. Or, maybe we won't. In any case, him coming home or Thanksgiving isn't really an option. And we're reasonably sure that someone he knows will still be in Palm Springs over Thanksgiving, and that they can do something to celebrate the holiday.

This whole incident is just another example of why it's so hard to detach myself from my son's addiction. There are constantly things coming up that require some sort of action by either my wife, myself, or both of us. The only way to eliminate these issues would be to cut our son off completely; and I don't think we can really do that at this point in his recovery.

Until our son is totally self-sufficient, I think we have to be there for him to help with certain things. (Without enabling, of course.) But as long as we are always there to help him with certain things, our son may never become totally self-sufficient. It's a big, fat Catch-22 for sure.

On a brighter note, I went to an Al-Anon meeting with my wife yesterday for the second week in a row. These are the first two Al-Anon meetings I've ever been to, and I have found much comfort and support there so far. I had been to Nar-Anon meetings in the past, but found them to be much more depressing. I usually left those meetings feeling worse than I did when I walked in. Maybe it was just a "bad" meeting that I was attending. In any case, I eventually stopped going altogether. But I will keep going to this Al-Anon meeting. It really helps to share with others, and to hear the problems others in similar situations are having in their lives. It helps to know that I'm not alone.

"Back to the crib"

2011-11-04T11:55:00.004-04:00

My son was able to move back into his original sober living house yesterday and is really happy to be back. He commemorated the event on his Facebook page with this status update: "outta the crash pad, back to the crib."

He's thrilled to be back in a familiar setting, around the supportive group he knows best. And he says he's learned a lesson. We talked to the woman who runs our son's house, and she agrees. She said the incident was a huge lesson not just for our son, but for the entire house. She called it "very powerful."

Yesterday was an incredibly tough day because my wife and I were dealing with another family crisis. So it was nice to have good news about our son. A little bit of positivity can sometimes go a long way. To that end, if you happen to have a spare prayer or good thought you could send my family's way, we would greatly appreciate it.

"Hope sees the invisible, feels the intangible, and achieves the impossible." --Charles Caleb Colton

Unfamiliar surroundings

2011-11-02T19:23:00.002-04:00

After a delay of a couple of days because of a shortage of space, my son finally went to another sober living house on Monday to serve out his three-day "sentence" for relapsing. So, tonight should be his last night there. That's assuming he is clean(er) tomorrow, which would allow him to move back into his original sober living house.

The temporary house is in a different part of town, so the last few days have been kind of tough for my son. He's in an unfamiliar location, so getting around town and figuring out where things are has been a challenge. He also hasn't had the benefit of getting rides to meetings from guys in his original house. But maybe this is all part of a lesson learned.

I love my son so much. And despite his relapse, I'm incredibly proud of his progress. Hopefully he can get back into familiar surroundings tomorrow, which would be a very good thing. The guys in his house are a great group, and I know their friendship and support mean a lot to my son.

Fingers crossed.

Relapse is part of the disease

2011-10-29T08:51:00.004-04:00

Last night I posted the link to my blog in a new Facebook group I belong to called "The Addict's Dad." One of the members there commented on my post, saying that he likes my blog but disagreed with my statement that "Relapse is part of recovery." He said that relapse "is part of the disease; it has nothing to do with recovery."

I thought about that comment for a long time, did some research online, and have to say that I now agree with that commenter. Relapse is a part of active addiction; not a part of recovery. The addict makes a conscious choice to use again. But that doesn't necessarily mean that relapse is a horrible thing.

"Relapse should not be viewed as a failure; it is part of a learning process that eventually leads to recovery." That quote is from Susan Merle Gordon, a Ph.D. and author of "Relapse & Recovery: Behavioral Strategies for Change," a research report by the Caron Foundation, one of the nation's oldest and largest addiction treatment centers. It appears in an online article that also goes on to say: "The potential for relapse is part of the chronic disease."

I'd like to thank the commenter on Facebook for making me reflect on my earlier statement and do some research. I appreciate the education. One thing's for sure: As the parent of an addict, you're always learning.

By the way, after talking to the woman who runs my son's sober living house last night, it appears that my son did indeed smoke the herbal incense he bought. I kind of figured that was what happened, but so be it. The woman said my son was very honest--with her, at least--about what he had done, and was very upset about having done it. Hopefully this is just a bump in the road to recovery. My wife and I will pray that that's the case.

The consequences of my son having relapsed are two fold. He has to leave his current sober living house for three days. He will move to a different sober living house during that time period, and will be monitored closely. He also can't participate in his IOP (Intensive Outpatient Program) for those three days. If he stays clean for three days, he can then move back into his original sober living house.

Addiction. It's always an adventure.

Relapse. Sort of.

2011-10-28T18:47:00.014-04:00

"Relapse is part of recovery." Anyone who loves an addict who's tried to get clean has heard that phrase. In fact, I've talked about it in this blog before. And, for the most part, I think it's true. But that doesn't make it any easier to deal with.

Today I found out that my son relapsed. Sort of. He went out and bought some "herbal incense"--also known as synthetic cannabis, which is legal in a lot of states--and was going to smoke it. But before he could, he inadvertently left a rolled "joint" in the bathroom of his sober living house and it was found by someone in authority.

Busted.

Even though my son didn't smoke the incense, just having it was a violation of the sober living house's rules. Fortunately, this doesn't mean he's kicked out of the house. Unfortunately, it does mean that he has to leave for three days before he can resume living there.

Where will my son go? I have no idea. When my wife talked to him, he was waiting to hear from the woman who owns the house. He said she was "calling around" to see where he could go for three days. I don't know if it'll be a homeless shelter or what. I guess we'll find out soon enough, though.

This setback is disappointing, for sure. I guess the bright side is that the incense didn't get smoked. But knowing that my son took money we gave him for food and went out and bought that crap with it...well, it's just a big letdown. We also just mailed a check to cover his rent for November, so I hope he learns a lesson from this little incident and gets back on track with his recovery. And find a job.

And don't get me started on how angry it makes me that this "herbal incense" shit is sold legally all over the place. It's incredibly dangerous. Here's a recent TV news report from Georgia about the stuff:

Postscript: The more my wife and I think about this incident, the more we think maybe the story we're being told isn't totally truthful. We think there's a possibility that our son did smoke the incense, and that he's just too scared or ashamed to tell us. We'll give him the benefit of the doubt for now, but he's lied to us so many times over the years that it's hard not to think about the other possibilities. As I've said many times before, it'll be a long time before we're able to trust our son again. That's sad, but true.

Music therapy

2011-10-23T17:02:00.003-04:00

Since going to Palm Springs, my son has been longing to have a guitar with him. He couldn't have one while in treatment, but when he moved into his sober living house, he started asking us if we could send him one of his guitars from home. Or if we could bring one with us when we visited.

To be perfectly honest, shipping a valuable guitar from Michigan to California--or checking one on an airplane flight--involves some risk. So my wife and I sidestepped the issue for a few weeks.

After visiting him, though, I felt like him having a guitar in Palm Springs would be a great thing. So I found an inexpensive Epiphone acoustic guitar on Amazon.com that had pretty good reviews and had it shipped to my son in Palm Springs. It arrived yesterday.

This morning, one of his Palm Springs friends posted a photo of my son playing the guitar, with a caption that said my son was singing and playing while she heals.

Seeing that photo and reading that caption litereally brought tears to my eyes. Music therapy is a good thing.

"Family Weekend" at Michael's House

2011-10-23T13:31:00.012-04:00

It's been almost a week since my wife, younger son, and I got back from our Palm Springs visit, and I've been meaning to put together a blog post about it. Unfortunately, the long trip home, jet lag, a nasty cold, trying to catch up at work, and my home DSL service going out for three days all got in the way. But those things have all passed, so I'm going to try and get down to business now.

The Michael's House "Family Weekend" program we attended took place at the Hyatt in Palm Springs from Friday, October 14th through Sunday, October 16th. It was an intense, emotional, and draining experience, full of education and hope. Our journey to and from California was long and tiring, but it was well worth it.

It's pretty hard to put into words how wonderful it was to see our son after more than 50 days. When we met up with him downtown on Thursday night, it was great. Needless to say, there were lots of hugs involved. And seeing him and his little brother reunited was even greater.

The "Family Weekend" program went from 8:30am to 4:00pm each day, and was facilitated by Alan J. Massey, who spent 17 years at the Betty Ford Center as a counselor, manager, and supervisor. He's also a recovering alcoholic, with 37 years of sobriety under his belt. Definitely an excellent set of qualifications! Two therapists from Michael's House also helped out by leading some of the group sessions.

There were about 30 or so people participating in the program, and all of them had different amounts of addiction "experience" under their belts. But they were all there for the same reason: because they care deeply about their addicted loved ones. I have to say, though, I think being "veterans" who have been dealing with our son's addiction for several years made the three days a little easier for us. I think it was a lot tougher for the people who were relatively new to all this; especially the couple who just recently found out that their son was using drugs. (They sent him to Michael's House just days after they discovered he was using, and they were still very much in shock.)

The family program consisted of educational aspects combined with group therapy sessions. On Friday, family members met the Michael's House staff; talked about what dealing with addiction has been like; watched a great DVD called Pleasure Unwoven: An Explanation of Brain Disease of Addiction; heard a presentation called "Healthy Self-Addictive Self"; and had a breakout group therapy session.

On Saturday, the patients joined the program, which included a "Shameful-Shamelessness" presentation; a discussion of family roles and a role playing skit (which my younger son participated in); a communication talk and exercise; and the most powerful breakout group therapy session of the weekend. This group session consisted of the addict and their family sitting in the middle of the rest of the group, who were seated in a circle. The addict and their family members then took turns telling each other: 1.) What they've learned about themselves since they arrived at Michael's House (or at the "Family Weekend"); 2.) What issues and concerns they have; and 3.) What their plans are for their recovery. (Yes, family members need to go through recovery, too.)

There was a lot of brutal honesty during this group session. A lot of tears and apologies, too. For me, the most powerful thing was hearing my own son be so honest with my wife, younger son, and me. And hearing my younger son talk very matter of factly to my older son. Pretty emotional stuff, for sure. My family also had the "honor" of going first during this session. The therapist leading the group later told me that he knew we'd do a good job and that he wanted us to set the tone for the whole group. Chalk that up to experience, I guess.

On Sunday, there were more breakout group sharing sessions; a presentation on "Relapse and Recovery"; and a breakout session to discuss what our plans were in case of relapse. We then wrapped things up with everyone talking about what the highlight of the weekend was for them.

The Michael's House "Family Weekend" program was so incredibly beneficial. And we met so many lovely people from all over the country. It was so nice to be around so many people going through the exact same thing we are going through. For at least one weekend, nobody had to feel "alone."

The family program was a lot of hard work, but we managed to squeeze some fun in, too. Among the highlights was going on the Palm Springs Tramway ride on Saturday night. This is a 2.5 mile ride up a mountain on the world's largest rotating tramcar. At the summit is Mount San Jacinto State Park, which is just beautiful. The view from the top of the mountain is breathtaking as well (see photo below). We took our son's roommate--a great kid from Atlanta--with us on this little trip and we all went out to Pizza Hut for dinner afterwards. It was a fantastic time.

We also went out to lunch with our son's therapist from Michael's House on Friday afternoon. It was nice to meet him in person, and we got to thank him for everything he did for our son.

On the last day, our son gave us a quick tour of Michael's House, which is actually a pretty nice place for a rehab facility. We also took our son grocery shopping, then went back to his house and hung out by the pool with some of his housemates for a bit. They all seem like great guys.

While we were there, one of his housemates told us that their sober living house is only a half block away from the house where Elvis and Priscilla Presley spent their honeymoon! So we went and checked it out on our way back to the hotel. (By the way, the Elvis Honeymoon Hideaway house has its own website!)

Saying goodbye to our son was tough, but we left Palm Springs early Monday morning knowing that he is in a good place right now, surrounded by good people. He also seems committed to staying sober and plans on staying at the sober living house at least another month (through November).

This is the most hope we've felt in several years, and it feels very good. Palm Springs is a very beautiful place. In more ways than one.

California here we come

2011-10-12T20:24:00.004-04:00

It's been 50 days since my son went to Palm Springs, California, to start treatment. He spent 39 days at Michael's House before moving into a really nice sober living house, where he's been for 11 days. (If you want to see just how nice the sober living house is, check out the photos here.) So far, things are going very well.

Tomorrow my wife, younger son, and I head off to California to visit. We will also participate in the "Family Weekend" program at Michael's House. It'll be a long weekend, and it won't all be pleasure. The family program runs from 8:30am to 4:00pm on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. So it'll be like being at work or in school all weekend long. But we hope it'll be a tremendous educational experience for all of us. And we'll be sure to have some fun in the late afternoons and evenings, too.

I can't wait to see my kid.

37 days

2011-09-29T19:55:00.002-04:00

Thirty-seven days ago, my son got on a plane and flew to Palm Springs to start treatment for his addiction and depression at Michael's House. Thirty-seven days later, he's clean and feeling better. That's pretty damn incredible.

In two days, he's being discharged from Michael's House and moving into a sober living house in Palm Springs, where's he's expected to be for at least 30 days. And in two weeks, I'm pretty sure that my wife, younger son, and I are heading to California to participate in the "Family Weekend" program at Michael's House. That's another big expense, but it's one way we can participate in the recovery of someone we love dearly. And you can't really put a price on that.

Thirty-seven days. Every one of them, one day at a time.

I really hope this investment pays off

2011-09-21T10:37:00.001-04:00

My wife and I are not wealthy people. Yes, we live in one of the wealthiest communities in the United States, but we are not wealthy. In fact, our income falls well below the median income for both individuals and families living in our community. We spent 16 years living in one of the smallest houses in our entire area (it was less than 900 sq. ft.) and only moved up to a bigger house about seven years ago. (A house that's now worth about half what we paid for it.) We desperately need a new car. Our two cars have a combined age of 24 years, and one of them is literally being held together with tape in certain places. We have much needed house repairs that we've put off for quite a while. You get the picture. Bottom line: Money has always been tight for us.

So yesterday, when we had to make a rather substantial payment to the treatment facility our son is in, it was tough. Insurance not covering our son's room and board because they think he's "medically stable" and capable of receiving the rest of his treatment on an outpatient basis is total bullshit. But there are lots of things that are total bullshit when it comes to insurance companies and substance abuse/mental health treatment. So we deal with it, bite the bullet, and pull out the credit card. (That's what credit cards are for, right?)

The payment we made yesterday was in addition to the initial payment we made when our son was admitted. And this most recent payment only brings us up-to-date through today. We'll still owe for more room and board after our son's residential treatment is completed. That's about another two weeks' worth of room and board. Then we'll get to pay his sober-living house rent for at least a month. And that isn't cheap, either.

I guess the point I'm trying to make here is that addiction hurts people in different ways. The emotional damage this disease inflicts upon the loved ones of addicts is bad enough. But there is also a financial burden, even if you have health insurance. This is now the third time we've paid thousands of dollars for our son to go to rehab. And even though it's painful, and even though it totally fucks up our budget, and even though it will greatly affect our financial future, we continue to pay the money. Because we love our son and want him to get the help he needs.

That being said, this will probably be the last time we can afford to do this. Unless I win the lottery or something, I can't imagine being able to pull this off again. It's just not realistic. So I really hope this investment pays off.

***********************************************

UPDATE: My son's latest treatment plan is a compromise of sorts. Instead of staying two additional weeks in the residential treatment facility--as his therapist first recommended--he's agreed to stay one more week. (Hey...Less room and board!) After that, he will move into a sober-living house in Palm Springs for a month and do an Intensive Outpatient Program (IOP). After that month is up, my wife and I aren't sure what the next step will be. But we're trying not to think that far ahead right now.

Some better news

2011-09-18T16:45:00.002-04:00

Over the last few days, things have improved a bit with regards to my son's situation.

He called the day after he hung up on us and apologized for having done so. He also said he would stay in Palm Springs an additional two weeks--as recommended by his therapist--so he can do an Intensive Outpatient Program (IOP) at Michael's House. He will be staying at Michael's House while doing the IOP, so that's a good thing.

Unfortunately, insurance won't cover any additional room and board for our son because he is now "medically stable." In fact, this stipulation kicked in several days ago. So for several days, we've been racking up room and board charges of $195.00 a day for our son. And we'll continue to do so for as long as he stays at Michael's House. We are not wealthy people, so this is definitely a financial strain for us. But our son's treatment is important to us, so we'll bite the bullet and figure out how to pay for this and the other charges our insurance company won't pay for. Maybe we'll have a bake sale or something. (Who wants to buy a few thousand brownies?)

One more thing: We talked to our son again last night and now he even says he'll "think about" staying in Palm Springs to do his transitioning into sober living. This is a small victory, although I certainly wouldn't be surprised if he decides he wants to move back to Michigan to do this. We shall see.

One day at a time. That really is the only way to tackle things like this.

"Feeling Yourself Disintegrate"

2011-09-15T20:38:00.017-04:00

Unfortunately, the other shoe is dropping with my son's situation. In a couple of different ways. First off, insurance isn't covering as much of his treatment as my wife and I were initially told they would, so it's kind of a financial nightmare at this point. In addition, our son called us last night and seems to have done a total about-face, saying he wants to come home on his discharge date (which is supposed to be 9/24), as opposed to staying out in Palm Springs to do his "transitioning."

His therapist called us and said he really wants our son to stay in residential treatment for an additional two weeks--which we'd have to pay for out of pocket--but that if he isn't on board, then we'd just be wasting our money. We're supposed to talk to our son tonight to try and figure everything out. If we can't get him to commit to staying in Palm Springs for additional treatment and his transitioning into a sober-living facility, I guess my wife and I will have to decide if we're ready to tell him that he'll be on his own out in California. That would seem to be the only other option, because we certainly don't intend to pay for him to fly home and put him back in a no-win situation, amongst people who are a negative influence and the dope houses that are just a short walk away.

So, after three weeks of relative calm, the stress is building again. Tonight's phone call ought to be interesting.

UPDATE: Our son called. We tried to explain to him that both his therapist and us want him to stay in Palm Springs longer, to get more treatment and more sobriety under his belt. He argued with us about it for about five minutes. Then he hung up on us.

*********************************************

On a brighter note, my wife and I took a wonderful four-day road trip to St. Louis this past weekend. Without kids. It was a trip to celebrate my 50th birthday and the purpose of the trip was to see two of our favorite musical acts: Kathleen Edwards and Bon Iver. In addition to being the opening act, Kathleen is also the girlfriend of Bon Iver's frontman, Justin Vernon. She has also become sort of a friend of ours. Our friendship developed from us having attended several of her shows over the years, talking to her after those shows, e-mailing back and forth, etc.

We had a great time, and the night was more like a religious experience than a concert. The highlight of Kathleen's set was her dedicating the last song to my wife and me. The song is a cover of the Flaming Lips' "Feeling Yourself Disintegrate," which is a song about addiction. When my wife and I heard the dedication--which was a total surprise--we both cried. What a beautiful, thoughtful thing for Kathleen to do. It was also a total fluke that someone I knew at the show happened to capture the dedication and song on his camera phone. The video isn't great--he wasn't super close to the stage--but the audio is fine. You can see/hear for yourself below. You can also watch Bon Iver's performance of "Perth," the opening song of their set.

We also had the pleasure of going backstage after the concert and hanging out for a bit. Getting to meet Justin Vernon was pretty cool. He's an incredibly nice guy, and he signed a setlist for us, too (see photo below).

All in all, it was a very memorable night.

Three years sober

2011-09-10T23:51:00.004-04:00

Three years ago today, while my son was in rehab for his heroin addiction, I gave up drinking.

"Be the change you want to see in your son." That's what the family therapist at the rehab facility told me.

So I made that commitment 1,095 days ago. I made a small change in my life to try and set a positive example for both my sons. As a father, it was the least I could do.

Sobriety is badass.

One day at a time.

Good things for my birthday

2011-09-08T09:46:00.007-04:00

Today is my birthday. And for the second time in the last four birthdays, my son won't be here to help me celebrate because he's in rehab. But this time feels different. Very different. And that's a good thing.

My son called last night, and at the end of our conversation he wished me a happy birthday, saying he was sorry he couldn't be home for it. But I told him not to worry about that, and that him feeling better was the best birthday present I could possibly ask for. And that's the truth. Screw the material things. They're just things. But my son feeling better? That's really something. A good thing.

The kid still sounds great, too, although he admitted to being a little homesick. I'd say that's probably normal, because this is the longest he's ever been away from home, or away from family. And I'm sure he misses his cats (probably more than he misses us). But again, just like last Saturday, at no point during our conversation did he ask to come home. I think my son is in a very good place right now. And I think he realizes that, too. Another good thing.

My son might be absent from our house on my birthday, but he has an incredible presence in my heart. All good things considered, this might be my best birthday ever.

************************************************

I'm 50 years old today. (Damn, that's old.) To celebrate, my wife and I are embarking on a four-day road trip/getaway. It starts tomorrow with a drive to suburban Chicago to see our nephew play in his high school football game. We'll spend the night at my wife's brother's house, then get up on Saturday morning and head to St. Louis for a couple of days. We're staying in a really cool hotel, and the big birthday celebration will be capped off by going to the Kathleen Edwards/Bon Iver concert at The Pageant in St. Louis on Sunday night. Good things, for sure.

I'm not positive--my memory is total crap because I'm so old--but I think this will be the longest trip without kids that my wife and I have taken in 22+ years of marriage. Let's hope we can stand each other for four days!

The best phone call ever?

2011-09-04T09:25:00.005-04:00

My wife and I were having dinner with some friends at their house last night when my wife's cell phone rang. Because our son's therapist had told us that our son would probably call us this weekend, my wife excused herself to check her phone. When I heard her answer the call, then say, "It's great to hear your voice," I knew it was our son.

I stayed with our friends, sitting in the family room, while my wife talked to our son. The whole time I was sitting there, I was trying to continue carrying on a conversation with our friends while thoughts about my son and the phone call going on in the other room raced through my head. It was an anxious few minutes, for sure.

Eventually, my wife returned to the family room and handed her phone over to me. In the few seconds that elapsed between the time I took the phone from my wife and the time I said "Hello" to my son, I was even more anxious. I just didn't know what to expect to hear on the other end of the line.

When I finally started talking to my son, I was shocked. His voice sounded so different. He sounded refreshed and like a totally different person. We talked for several minutes and he told me several things that made me feel so hopeful:

He's doing well.

He's completely off the Suboxone he had been taking for nearly 3 years.

He really likes his therapist.

The treatment facility is really nice.

And, finally... He feels "normal."

That last one is a big one, for sure. It's something I haven't heard my son say in years. And it was so great to hear it.

My son and I wrapped up our phone call and my wife and I continued with our rare night out. There was no doubt we were feeling pretty good about things at that point.

Then, about halfway through dinner, I realized something that made me feel even better: At no point during the conversation with my son did he say anything negative. There was no "I hate this place" or "Get me out of here" or "I want to come home." This was the first "first phone call" from any rehab or hospital or three-quarter house my son has been in that didn't include him saying one of those things. He was totally positive throughout the entire call.

It was tough not hearing our son's voice for 11 days. But the phone call we got from him last night was well worth the wait. It was so amazing to hear him sound as good as he did. He really did sound like a totally different person. I know that might sound ridiculous, but it's the only way I can describe what I heard.

Obviously, my son is not "cured." In fact, he has a long way to go in his recovery, which will continue for the rest of his life. But the phone call from him last night was so incredibly uplifting. And it reassured my wife and I that he's in a good place, safe, clean and sober, and getting the help he needs.

That phone call last night? It might just be the best phone call I've ever gotten.

Thank you to the angels

2011-09-03T09:14:00.003-04:00

It's been 11 days since we put our son on a plane and sent him off to Michael's House Treatment Center in Palm Springs, California. It's something that had to happen. After a bizarre incident during our family vacation in northern Michigan, and some evidence of drug and alcohol use upon our return, my wife and I could see that things were spiraling out of control again for our son.

Prior to sending him to treatment, we finally gave him the ultimatum that we had previously failed to follow through on: either go to rehab or leave our house. After initially saying he'd go to rehab, our son slept a day away (literally a day; as in 24 hours), and then reneged, saying he could get clean on his own.

We told him that wasn't an option and that he would have to leave. He did leave, too, albeit reluctantly. He packed up a duffle bag and took off, on foot, for a friend's apartment. He asked for a ride (he doesn't drive), but we said no. He asked for some money, but we said no. It was hard to watch him leave with nothing, calling us names as he walked down the block. But as much as it hurt, for the first time in a long time we felt like we had taken control of OUR lives.

Our son was gone for a couple of days. He would text once in awhile to ask for money. Or to say he was hungry. Or that he needed cigarettes badly. But we stood our ground and told him his only option was to stay away or go to rehab. We had taken his house key, so we kept the doors locked, just in case he showed up back at the house. We weren't backing down. We had finally decided that enough was enough. Thankfully, a couple days later our son told us that he would go to treatment. So we let him come home.

While our son was gone, my wife and I had continued our search for a rehab facility, which had begun several days earlier when we first gave our son the ultimatum. For those of you who've never done it, finding a residential treatment center for your loved one is a little bit like looking for a needle in a haystack. Only harder. Not only did we have to find a facility that was right for our son, but we had to find a facility that was insurance friendly. I know this might sound hard to believe, but insurance companies and substance abuse treatment don't really mix well.

We considered the place our son had gone to last time (Brighton Hospital, about an hour away), but they said our insurance company (still) didn't play nice with them. We also considered several other places scattered around the metro Detroit area and the state of Michigan. We even looked Hazelden in Minnesota, but insurance was an issue there as well. It was a total nightmare. My poor wife must've spent three straight days on the phone with rehab facilities, our insurance company, the HR rep at my job, and my son's therapist. Meanwhile, I spent a lot of time online searching for places that could help our son. We needed to find somewhere to send him!

During this time, I had reached out to Ken Seeley, an interventionist who used to appear on the A&E TV show Intervention. Ken was my favorite interventionist on that show and I had friended him on Facebook a few years ago. I had even e-mailed him a year or so later when my son was struggling to see if he could help. At the time, he had me call a representative of his new company, Intervention 911, and we talked about possible treatment options for my son. Unfortunately, everything we talked about was just too expensive to consider.

This time I e-mailed Ken and asked him if he could recommend any treatment centers in Michigan that could help my son with his addiction and depression (known in the field as "co-occurring disorders"). Ken finally got back to me and told me that a place called Michael's House in Palm Springs, California, would be the perfect place for my son, and that I should call a gentleman with Foundations Recovery Network--the parent company of Michael's House and three other treatment centers. This man could help us, Ken said.

I was a bit surprised at Ken's e-mail. Palm Springs is 2,300 miles away, and after looking at Michael's House's website, I was pretty convinced that there was no way in hell we could send out son there. The cost would be a huge factor. But my wife and I decided to call the guy from Foundations Recovery Network (FRN) anyway, just to see what he had to say.

What transpired after that can only be described as some kind of miracle. Seriously. The guy at FRN was incredibly understanding and helpful. He knew exactly what we were going through and said that he could make treatment at Michael's House a reality for our son. Because of contracts FRN has with several insurance companies--including ours--the treatment at Michael's House could actually be affordable for us. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: It was like we were put in touch with angels to guide us somewhere we'd never been before. FRN even talked to our insurance company and got confirmation that our son's treatment would indeed be covered. Not 100 percent, but to an extent that made the whole thing incredibly affordable for us.

After a couple of days of talking to our guardian angel at FRN, and waiting for a bed to open up at Michael's House, we got word that Tuesday, August 23rd--which was two days away--would be the day we'd be sending our son to Palm Springs.

The next hurdle, unfortunately, was finding a last-minute flight for him. Getting to Palm Springs isn't super easy to begin with, because their airport is so small. You have to take a flight to Phoenix or Salt Lake City or Denver, and then take a smaller plane to Palm Springs. I spent hours online looking at flight options and couldn't find one that worked. I was totally frustrated.

I sent our contact at FRN an e-mail to tell him I didn't know if we'd be able to get our son to Palm Springs on Tuesday. His response? "We have a great travel agent we work with. I'll get them on it right away." Again, it was like an angel was at work here. But it got even better. Our contact called my wife to tell her the travel agent could definitely get a flight for our son, and asked if we wanted them to book the flight for us. My wife said we had no problem with them booking the flight, but that the cost was a concern for us. (We didn't know if there would be a surcharge involved for getting a premium seat on a last-minute flight, or how much the flight would cost...or anything.) At that point, our FRN contact told my wife: "I talked to my boss and he said we can write the flight off." That's right. They were going to write the flight off. As in, they were going to pay for the flight. As in, flying our son to Palm Springs would cost us nothing. Not one penny.

I'm telling you, my wife and I were shocked. All of this was coming together like some kind of dream. The fact that there are people out there who want to help heal other people is so incredibly amazing. And we're so glad that we found them. It was like a tremendous weight had been lifted off our shoulders. And it felt like the first thing that had gone right for us in years. We cried, but this time we were crying tears of joy.

Our son arrived safely in Palm Springs late on Tuesday night, August 23rd. At the airport he was greeted by a representative of Michael's House, who transported him to the treatment center. Michael's House also called us--at about 1:45am our time--to let us know our son was safe and sound.

Eleven days later, my wife and I are happy to be hearing encouraging reports from our son's therapist at Michael's House. There were some bumps early on, but things seem to be going well now and we are cautiously optimistic. To know that our son is safe, in a treatment facility that specializes in co-occurring disorders, and in the hands of people who want to help him is such a wonderful feeling. It truly is.

Thank you to the angels who helped make this happen. You have no idea how appreciative we are.

A new journey begins

2011-08-23T19:25:00.002-04:00

As I type this note, my son is on his way to Palm Springs, California, to hopefully get the treatment he needs to start his life anew. If you're so inclined to do such things, please say a prayer for him tonight--or even right now--and whenever you might think about him. Or light a candle for him. Or both. Michigan to California is a long journey. But my son is a wonderful young man who has a long journey ahead of him. I hope he believes in himself and embraces this opportunity for change.

Special thanks to Ken Seeley and Jeffrey Seltzer of Intervention 911 and (especially) Britt Bonner of Foundations Recovery Network. You are all angels my wife and I didn't know existed. And to the staff at Michael's House: Please take good care of my son and guide him in his recovery. He's a great kid who just needs some help finding his way.

Thank you all for your support. I love you all.

And I love you, son. Here's hoping you can rest your heavy head tonight on a bed/Of California stars.

Fingers crossed

2011-08-21T22:04:00.002-04:00

Something good may be brewing. My fingers are crossed. Please cross your fingers, too. And, if you're so inclined, say a prayer for my son and my family.

Can you help my son?

2011-07-18T14:40:00.003-04:00

I'm still in a funk today. Hopefully it'll lift soon. If not, I'll just keep fighting it off, one day at a time.

While I was eating lunch today, I thought to myself how cool it would be if I could put a classified ad in every newspaper, magazine, and medical journal read by mental health professionals. And on all the websites they visit, too. Maybe if I did that, that one person who could possibly help my son would see it. And maybe things could change a little.

I honestly believe there's someone out there who can help my son; at least with his severe depression and anxiety disorder (which I believe to be the driving forces behind his desire to self-medicate). We just haven't found him or her yet. So, if you happen to be reading this blog...

Can you help my son? For 6+ years my son has suffered from severe depression, anxiety disorder, and addiction. He has no self-esteem. No self-confidence. No desire to do anything. He feels worthless, unwanted, and incredibly lonely. There has been a suicide attempt. Psychiatric hospital and rehab stays. Countless doctors, therapists, and medications. Twelve-step programs. Three-quarter houses. Etc. But nothing has worked. There has to be someone out there who can help him. Are you a brilliant doctor who might have that one medication or treatment that might do the trick? Or a cutting-edge therapist who can reach into my son’s soul and pull out the wonderful, intelligent, loving young man who so desperately wants to see the light of day? I’m convinced there has to be someone out there who can help my kid. Please respond ASAP. We really need you. I feel like time is running out.

Hiatus

2011-07-15T08:26:00.005-04:00

I'm going on hiatus for a bit. I'm feeing a bit overwhelmed by everything right now and don't really feel like talking about any of it. It's not a good feeling. Hopefully I'll get over it soon.

Peace.

We are total wusses

2011-07-06T23:15:00.004-04:00

Over the last several hours, the text messages between my son, my wife, and I have been flying back and forth. I know. That sounds strange. I can hear people asking, "Why don't they talk to each other?" And other people are saying, "Hey, you don't even have a cell phone. How are you texting your son?" Well, in answer to the first question, texting is just how my son prefers to communicate. (Maybe it's his anxiety disorder.) And in answer to the second question, I can send and receive text messages using my laptop. So, now that that's out of the way...

My son was digging his heels in for hours, saying he wasn't going to a shelter. He wanted a ride to his friend's apartment. We said no to the ride to his friend's, but said we'd consider giving him a ride to a shelter. So he continued texting us about how miserable he was. How he had this huge pile of stuff and was sitting in a park and had nowhere to go and couldn't even go to the bathroom because he couldn't leave his stuff to find somewhere to go. And how he had called a bunch of people, but no one could give him a ride. Etc.

After hours of this, he finally called at around 10:30pm and asked if we could come and get him. We could take him wherever we wanted to take him, he said, but he didn't want to spend the night in the park. At this point my wife called the homeless shelter in Ann Arbor that the program director had recommended. Unfortunately, the intake person at the shelter said they couldn't accept our son because he isn't a resident of Washtenaw County (where Ann Arbor is located). The person on the phone was very apologetic, but explained that recent budget cuts prevent them from taking in non-residents.

We did a quick Internet search for homeless shelters in Wayne County--where we live and where the three-quarter house is--but most shelters we came up with were located in Detroit. Now, no offense to the city of Detroit, but the three-quarter house program director cautioned us against sending our son to any shelter in Detroit. "He won't make it there," he told us.

Out of options, my wife and I caved. We decided we'd go get our kid and his stuff, bring him back home for tonight, and start looking for somewhere else for him to go tomorrow. He only needs to be somewhere else until Monday, assuming he refrains from using drugs or alcohol for the next four days. The program director said that if our son comes back on Monday and his drug levels have decreased--meaning he hasn't used again--that they would take him back, although he would be put in a different house than he was in before.

So, right now my wife is on her way to the other side of town to pick our son up. I'm home, feeling overwhelmed, exhausted, defeated, and physically ill. In fact, I've felt like throwing up for the last five hours or so. This situation is something no parents should have to go through. As much as we wanted to stick to our guns and be hard-asses about what happened today, we ended up wussing out yet again. I guess the thought of our kid sleeping in a park with most of his possessions, nowhere to piss or shit, no money, and no food to eat was too much for us to handle. Maybe we're just not strong enough. We have a lot of will power when it comes to certain things, but it turns out we couldn't do what we said we were going to do this time. For better or worse, the fear of what could've happened to our son got the best of us.

It's so fucking hard being the parent of an addict. Seriously. I do not recommend it if you want to keep your sanity. Please go easy on us.

I hope the buzz was worth it

2011-07-06T18:14:00.004-04:00

You know that roller coaster ride "up" I was so appreciative of yesterday? Well, today's the "down." Waaaaaaaaaaaaaay down.

My wife called me at work this afternoon to tell me that our kid tested positive for pot and had to leave the three-quarter house. Yup. That's right. Two days after we wrote a check for $420.00 for the next month's rent, he gets kicked out. It's just unbelievable.

Yesterday our son had jury duty. So my wife had to drive out to the other side of town, pick up him up, take him to the courthouse in downtown Detroit, and wait for him until he was finished. After he was dismissed from jury duty, our son came home for a few hours. During part of that time, he took off on his brother's bike, allegedly to go to the gas station to buy cigarettes.

I thought he was gone much longer than he should've been, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt. I guess that was a mistake. Because what really happened, according to my son, was that he rode to a friend's apartment, where they smoked a joint. This is because my son was depressed, because it was his old girlfriend's birthday, and he just wanted to get high.

So that's the story. The up and down continues.

As of right now, I'm not sure what's going to happen to my son. My wife and I told him if he got kicked out of the three-quarter house, he wasn't coming home; and we're sticking to that. The program director recommended a homeless shelter in Ann Arbor. Maybe that's an option. But my kid has a lot stuff with him, and no transportation.

I told my wife to tell our son to call his friend and have him drive him to the shelter. But our kid says he can't reach his friend. So evidently he's sitting outside, down the street from the three-quarter house, with his stuff. That's sad, and it breaks my heart. Maybe this will teach him a lesson, though.

I will openly admit that I may be a horrible parent for being so hard-assed this time around. But, you know what? Right now, I want nothing to do with my kid. He knew what the consequences would be if he screwed up. And he chose to smoke that joint anyway. I hope the buzz was worth it.

No meeting necessary

2011-07-05T14:01:00.008-04:00

Today was supposed to be "D-Day" for my son. Today was supposed to be the day my wife and I met with the director of the three-quarter house program to see if our son was could stay in the program or if he was going to get kicked out for not doing what he was supposed to do. But there won't be a meeting today after all.

Yesterday my wife talked to the program director, who said it appeared as though our son had "flipped a switch," and that he was now doing the required things he hadn't been doing before. Because of this development, he said we didn't need to meet today and told us our son could continue in the program. All we had to do was write a check for the next month's rent. What a huge relief.

Another huge relief: At no point during conversations and text messages with our son this past weekend did he say he wanted to come home, or that he didn't want to continue living in the three-quarter house. Could it be he's settling in and truly understanding the benefits of being there? We sure hope so. And we hope even more progress is made over the next 30 days.

So, the roller coaster ride continues. Up and down, up and down, up and down. Today, we're on an up. And we'll take it.

Same old story, different house

2011-06-29T11:26:00.004-04:00

We had a family meeting with the three-quarter house program director on Monday. Me, my wife, and our son. This was a meeting to discuss our son’s progress; or, as it turns out, the lack thereof.

We thought things had been going pretty well with our son. He had sent us text messages saying that he thought he might want to stay at the three-quarter house longer than 30 days. On Saturday he came home for a short visit and packed up more clothes and personal items (books, CDs, etc.) to take back to the house with him. And late Saturday night, he even sent my sister an e-mail telling her that the place wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be, that he had awesome roommates, etc. That e-mail really gave us hope.

Unfortunately, it seems my son has spent the last few weeks at the three-quarter house just hanging out, and not doing everything he should’ve been doing. The list of “violations” that we heard sounded all too familiar: Not getting up on time. Not looking for employment regularly. Not doing chores, or not doing them properly. Etc. It sounded like my son had taken his same old behaviors and just transferred them to another house. Which, I think, is why he thought the place wasn't so bad. But, as the program director stressed, the three-quarter house is not a place to “hang out.” There’s a routine that needs to be followed. And our kid was not following it.

The director of the house my son is staying in wanted him gone on Monday. The program director read us a text message that the house director had sent him that morning. It said our son “has to go.” But, after some discussion, the program director decided to give our son one more week to see if he can turn things around. Our son, who was pretty upset about everything that was going down, reluctantly agreed to that. To be perfectly honest, though, I’m not sure he’ll be able to turn things around, primarily because it doesn’t seem like he wants to.

So, we have another meeting scheduled for this coming Tuesday. That’s “D-Day.” If our kid has turned things around and is starting to get with the program, we’ll write a check for another month's rent and he’ll stay at the three-quarter house longer. But if he hasn’t started to turn things around by Tuesday, he’s done there. And we’ve told him that if that happens, he’s not coming home. I’m not sure where he’ll go—maybe a shelter or something—but my wife and I have pretty much come to the conclusion that we can’t keep living the way we’ve been living with our son at home. It’s just a drain on everyone. And I don’t think we can take it anymore. Now, if he turns things around, and then wants to come home, that’s something we can probably work out. But if he thinks he’s going to come back home and crawl right back into the same rut he was in before he left, he’s going to have a wake-up call coming.

I pray to God that my son will figure some things out over the next few days and start acting like someone who wants to change; who wants to mature; who wants to turn a corner and start living the way someone his age should live. But I’m not sure it’ll happen. And I’m terrified to think of what we’ll have to do if it doesn’t.

Day pass

2011-06-24T09:53:00.002-04:00

My son got a day pass to come home for a visit today. After an appointment with his therapist (on that side of town) and a haircut (on this side of town), he'll end up only being here for about eight hours. But it'll be nice to have him back on home turf for a little bit. And I'm sure our three cats will be thrilled, because I can tell they miss him a ton. I think I'll cook up some kind of special dinner tonight. Maybe some ribeyes on the grill are in order.

In other incredibly promising news, my son texted my wife yesterday and said he thinks he might want to stay at the three-quarter house for more than 30 days. He said he wants to be more independent, and I think the three-quarter house is putting him on that path. It's great that he's feeling that way. I just hope it continues, because my wife and I definitely think it would be great for him to spend at least another month there. The structure is great for him and, after three weeks, I think he's finally starting to get in a groove.

We have a family meeting with the program director on Monday afternoon. It'll be interesting to see what he has to say about Sam's progress, and what recommendations he makes.

One day at a time, right?

Father's Day

2011-06-19T11:42:00.001-04:00

I'm not real big on Father's Day. Maybe it's because I don't consider myself to be a very good father. And I'm not at all close to my own father. I always wanted a great relationship with my father. It just never happened. There is a lot of hurt inside of me that was caused by my dad while I was growing up. I'm not sure if it will ever heal. But I've come to accept that.

I suppose I do/have done some things right as a father. But I feel like I've failed more than I've succeeded. That sucks, too, because I always wanted to be the best father in the world. Unfortunately, I think I'll have to settle for mediocrity.

As I type this, my wife and youngest son are up north at my wife's parents' house. And my oldest son is at his three quarter house on the other side of town. But I'm about to leave to go visit my oldest, take him out to lunch, and maybe take him shopping for some new clothes that he needs. I also got up early and baked him a couple dozen cookies. I hope he appreciates them.

So Happy Father's Day to all the dads out there. Being a parent is the hardest job on this planet. Even when things go smoothly. If things don't go smoothly, it becomes even harder. Trust me. I know. I will continue to do the best that I can, and I hope that as the years go on my boys recognize the fact that I tried my damndest.

Oh, well

2011-06-18T21:13:00.005-04:00

My son's job didn't work out.

This is disappointing news, but life goes on. Hopefully another opportunity will present itself soon.

Great news!

2011-06-14T20:21:00.002-04:00

My son texted my wife a little bit ago to tell us...
HE GOT A JOB!

He'll be working as a dishwasher at a restaurant near the three-quarter house he's living in, Friday and Saturday nights from 5:00pm until close.

This really is incredible news. I called my son to congratulate him and he sounds great. Things are going well. It's such a good feeling. Thank you, higher power. Thank you.

Update on my son

2011-06-11T20:16:00.002-04:00

My wife had to take our son to two medical appointments yesterday, so she headed out to his three-quarter house early in the morning. Between the two appointments and a mother-son shopping trip to Target, my wife ended up being gone pretty much the entire day.

But when she got home, she had good news to report. She said our son seems to be doing much better. He likes his two roommates, he's finally getting settled, and he's growing accustomed to the routine: Getting up early, doing chores, looking for work, going to a mandatory number of meetings, etc.

I was so happy to hear this. After a rough first few days, it seems like things are starting to progress in a positive direction. Hopefully this will continue.

This might sound silly, but unless you've been through something like we've been through, you can't possibly understand how wonderful hearing news like this feels. I will cherish the positivity for now. And pray for more to come.

A blast from the past

2011-06-09T11:48:00.004-04:00

I was missing my son this morning and remembered a song I made up when he was a baby. I used to sing this song to him to help him fall asleep:

I love [son's name] more than candy
More than ice cream
More than pop.
I love [son's name] more than anything
More than anything anyone's got.

It's been one week since he moved into the three-quarter house. I really hope that the whole experience will end up being a good thing.

1,000 days sober

2011-06-07T08:54:00.003-04:00

It seems like only yesterday, but it was 1,001 days ago that I had my last drink. September 9, 2008. Four days after my son entered rehab for heroin addiction. And the day after my 47th birthday.

I don't remember what my last drink was. Probably a glass of white wine, which I was drinking pretty heavily at the time to try and help me "cope" with the fact that my then-18-year-old son was a heroin addict in a residential rehab facility.

I've told the story many times. During a family therapy session at Brighton Hospital, the therapist told me and my wife: "Be the change you want to see in your son." She said it was crazy for us to tell our son not to self-medicate with heroin or marijuana or pills, while at the same time we were drinking alcohol. Even if we were just drinking socially--and I confess, at the time I was probably a borderline alcoholic--it was still self-medication.

That made perfect sense to me. It seemed like quitting drinking was the least I could do to help my son, and it would also set a good example for my youngest son, who was 12 at the time. So on September 10, 2008, I began my sobriety.

It's kind of ironic that I'm celebrating 1,000 days sober while my son's living in a three-quarter house his addiction doctor made him move into because he tested positive for pot. Sometimes I wonder how much influence my sobriety actually has on my son. It's hard to say if it's had any effect at all. But I feel better since I quit drinking, and I definitely think having parents who don't drink is a big plus for my youngest son. So, 2.75 years later, I am committed to staying sober.

What the hell am I doing?

2011-06-05T07:56:00.004-04:00

I didn't sleep very well last night. All the events of yesterday have me doubting myself yet again. Did I do the right thing? Did I screw up? Will the three-quarter house (eventually) work? Is it going to have a negative effect on my son? Is there a better place I should've sent him? What the hell am I doing?

Aside from the actual addiction, the hardest thing to live with when your child is an addict is the constant self-doubt. Wondering if there's something you did to contribute to the problem; or if there's something you should be doing to help fix the problem. Both of those things are horrible things to carry around with you. Especially the latter. Because when it comes right down to it, the only person who can fix the problem is the addict. As loved ones we can only try our best to help guide the addict in the right direction. But unless they truly want to change their life, it won't happen.

I think my wife and I have done almost all we can to help our son. Our son has to want to help himself. And I don't know if he does. I really don't. And that makes me so incredibly sad.

So much for peace of mind

2011-06-04T21:18:00.003-04:00

I enjoyed peace of mind for about 36 hours. Then everything went all to hell.

I'm so emotionally wiped out that I don't have the energy to go into great detail about the day. But a lot of it has consisted of my son sending text messages to my wife telling her that he hates the three-quarter house; that people are using drugs in the house; that someone has stolen $10.00 from him; that people in the house keep asking him for Suboxone; and--get this--that people have stolen his Pop-Tarts. Seriously. His fucking Pop-Tarts.

I don't know how much of what my son is saying is true. And it's quite possible that none of it is. During his previous stints in a sober-living facility and in rehab, we were told similar stories during the first few days. It may just be a case of an addict being uncomfortable in a situation and saying anything he can to try and get himself out of that situation. Or, some of what he says may be true. I don't know. But we've told our son to deal with what's going on by telling someone there about it. Not by texting us and asking to come home. In fact, I've told him more than once today that he's free to leave the three-quarter house if he wants to; but that if he does, he's on his own and he's not coming home.

The 36 hours or so of peace of mind I experienced was totally badass. I want to feel like that more often. I'm just not sure it'll ever happen.

"He looks better already."

2011-06-03T16:15:00.002-04:00

Our son had to see his addiction specialist again this morning, so my wife drove out to the three-quarter house and took him to his appointment. She also took some more stuff out to him: His bike, which should come in very handy for him; a lockbox, which is required for keeping his prescription meds and valuables in; his cell phone, which he hasn't been in possession of for I can't even remember how long; and some other things. She also took him shopping for some food and other necessities while she was out there.

The report from my wife is that our son appears to be doing very well, and that he seems to be committed to the program. He was up at 8:00am this morning, which is already a giant step in the right direction. And at the doctor's appointment, the doctor said, "He looks better already."

We are cautiously optimistic. Keep those prayers and positive vibes heading our way. And his way.

The Doorway to Recovery

2011-06-02T19:54:00.003-04:00

To say it's been a very interesting couple of days around here would be an understatement.

On Tuesday, my son went to his regularly scheduled appointment with his addiction specialist, who is the doctor who writes his prescription for Suboxone (a narcotic medication used for the treatment of opioid dependence that my son takes). A condition of my son continuing on the Suboxone is complete sobriety--no use of any drugs or alcohol--and he has been told this repeatedly by his doctor.

Well, on Tuesday my son was randomly drug tested and tested positive for marijuana. Because of the dirty test, the doctor gave my son an ultimatum: Move into a three-quarter house/sober living facility by Friday--as in three days later--or lose the Suboxone prescription. Since withdrawing from Suboxone "cold turkey" can be a pretty horrible thing, my son had a pretty big decision to make. So did my wife and I.

When my wife broke the news of this development to me on Tuesday evening, I went ballistic. I let my son have it verbally. In hindsight, I was probably too harsh on him, and probably dropped about 20 more f-bombs than were necessary. But I couldn't help it. I was pissed. Incredibly pissed.

After I went off on my kid, I grilled the steaks I had been preparing for dinner, then went on a bike ride up to the local Little League diamond to watch some kids play ball. I just needed to escape for awhile. I wasn't really surprised that my son had tested positive for pot. He had gone to the Movement Electronic Music Festival in downtown Detroit the previous Saturday, and I was definitely concerned that that environment might provoke him to use. But even though I wasn't surprised he had used, I was still disappointed. I was also a bit shocked by the ultimatum the doctor gave him.

I came home from the Little League diamond, went to bed early, and pretty much avoided the whole situation until the next day. During the workday on Wednesday, I communicated with my wife a few times about what we should do. And after work we talked about it some more and started looking for potential places for my son to go. We also talked about the possibility of sending him to rehab again, in order to kick the Suboxone totally, once and for all, in a safe and monitored setting. But after doing some research online and making some phone calls, it appeared the only rehab facility that would take him in to withdraw from prescribed Suboxone was a private pay facility; and they wanted $15,000.00 up front. That wasn't an option, so my wife and son continued to look for a three-quarter house.

Luckily, one of the programs recommended by the doctor--The Doorway to Recovery--had a bed open in one of their houses. So my wife and son arranged to meet with the program director today.

This morning the three of us drove out to the Doorway to Recovery office and met with the director. He himself is a recovering addict, and my wife and I liked what he had to say. Our son, though, was still resistant. At one point, he got up and walked outside to have a cigarette. After a few minutes more of talking to the director, it became apparent that my wife and I had to convince our kid to give this program a shot. And if we couldn't do that, having him return home could not be an option.

We went outside and talked to our son and pretty much laid it on the line. We gave him two options: 1.) Give the three-quarter house a real chance. Or 2.) Find someplace else to live.

After a few minutes, our son finally came around to the three-quarter house idea. So we filled out the intake paperwork, wrote out our check ($445.00 for the first month), and then hopped in the car to follow the program director to our son's sober living facility.

The house our son will be living in is in the town of Plymouth, Michigan. The house has a total of 13 men living in it and is within walking/biking distance of a nice downtown area, lots of stores, a library, and several parks. It's a pretty nice setting, really.

While we were there, my wife and I met several of the guys living in the house. All of them seemed like very nice guys and they all told us they know exactly what our son is going through. One of them, who was sort of hand-picked by the program director to mentor our son, seemed especially well grounded and told us he'd work with our son and show him around the area.

The whole process today took around five hours. But it felt like ten times that. And I can't even begin to tell you how emotionally draining it was. As I'm typing this post, I've got tears running down my face. Some of them are tears of sadness, because it's hard to "commit" your son, whether it's to a psychiatric hospital or a rehab facility or a sober living facility. But some of the tears I'm crying are tears of joy, because I really feel like this could be a great place for my son. There is a ton of structure there, and structure is something recovering addicts need desperately. And, to be perfectly honest, my kid was getting absolutely no structure at home.

On Tuesday, I was pretty devastated to hear that the doctor gave my son such a harsh ultimatum. I thought that took a lot of balls. But tonight, I'm incredibly thankful that the doctor had the balls that maybe I don't have. I probably should've given my son a similar ultimatum a long time ago, AND followed through with it. But that really isn't as easy as it sounds. In fact, nothing about being the parent of an addict is easy. Nothing at all.

I am exhausted now and am looking forward to a good night's sleep. I am also praying that this experience goes well for my son, and that he embraces this opportunity and makes the most of it. I'm hoping he'll stay at this three-quarter house for at least 30 days, and maybe longer. And that the program gives him the structure he needs, teaches him some much needed life skills, and increases his confidence and self-esteem.

Oh... There's one more thing I'm really looking forward to: A much needed "vacation" from the world of addiction for me and my lovely wife. We so deserve it.

Some progress, perhaps?

2011-05-02T20:19:00.000-04:00

A friend of my son's, who is also in the program, moved out of his house over the weekend. He moved into an apartment at the other end of town. My son's been hanging out with this kid for the last several weeks, and it's been a really good thing for both of them, because they have some of the same issues. They get along really well, too. In fact, my son's friend told my son that he could move in with him if he gets a job and can afford to split the costs. I think this might provide a bit of motivation for my kid. At least, I hope it does.

The last couple of nights, my son has spent some time hanging out at his friend's new place. Last night, before going over there again, he told me and my wife, "You know, hanging out there was fun and it's a nice place. But there's no TV, no Internet, not much furniture. I realized how much I take for granted here." When I heard that come out of my son's mouth, I was flabbergasted. It might not sound like much to anybody else, but to me it was an indication that my son might be maturing a bit.

One more thing: Last night my wife told me that our son was telling her about hanging out at his friend's place the previous night. He told her another friend came over and that the three of them just hung out, playing poker for fun, with no alcohol and no weed. Just three guys sitting around and having a good time, without the assistance of any mood altering substances. Probably pretty unusual for three guys in their early 20s.

These things give me hope. I will take them with a grain of salt, for sure. But I am cautiously optimistic. Perhaps some progress is being made. Fingers crossed. Toes, too.

Free to a good home

2011-05-01T21:08:00.005-04:00

So, after trying to sell those Deftones concert tickets all week, and most of the day today--see the post immediately before this one--I did something crazy with them.

After lowering the price of the tickets on Craigslist this afternoon, I got this e-mail:

If no1 will buy em ill take em 4 free so they don't go 2 waste. If u r a trusting person ill even give u an I.O.U. & hook u up w the $ n a couple wks when I get paid next, but I jus put every dime I have n my gas tank. I know it's a long shot, but figured I'd throw it out there.
--Jon

Something about this e-mail got to me. So I called the phone number Jon included in his e-mail and told him he could have the tickets. For free. I think he thought I was kidding at first, because he sounded kind of like he was in shock. "Really?" he said. "Yep," I told him. "And you don't have to owe me any money, either. Just pay it forward to someone else somewhere down the road."

Even though I was out more than $115.00, giving the tickets to Jon made me feel really good inside. Here's someone who desperately wanted to go to the show, but he didn't have the money. I had spent the money in January, so it was gone long ago. I figured, Why not make a stranger happy and, at the same time, let them know that there are still kind and generous people in the world?

When Jon and his friend came to pick up the tickets, they were incredibly grateful. "This is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me," Jon told me as I handed him the tickets. I'm not sure if it's the nicest thing anyone's ever done for him, but I'm pretty sure it might be one of the nicest. And, to top it off? Jon promised me he'd pay it forward.

Today I took a negative and I reframed it, turning it into a positive. It was a good feeling. And it was a good day.
-------------------------------------------------------------
Postscript: It's the morning after the concert, and I just got this e-mail from Jon:

Thanks again 4 the tix!!! We had a freekin blast!!!

Putting my money where my mouth is

2011-05-01T10:40:00.004-04:00

Back in early January, my son mentioned to me that two of his favorite bands, Deftones and Dillinger Escape Plan, were coming to Detroit on the same bill and that he really wanted to go. Being a huge music fan myself, and knowing how cool it is to see two of your favorite bands at the same show, I thought seriously about buying tickets. But my son wasn't living up to what he had promised to do, so I decided against it.

A few days later, I started thinking about buying the tickets again. After all, it was only mid-January. Surely by May--almost four months later--my son will have made progress, and going to that concert would be a nice reward for him. So I took the plunge and spent $115.20 on a pair of tickets.

Fast-forward to today, Sunday, May 1st. It's the day of the show, and nothing with my son has really changed. He still hasn't looked seriously for a job. He still balks at doing chores around the house. He still stays up all night and sleeps all day, into the evening. He's still stuck in a rut and isn't doing anything to help himself out of it.

In the not-too-distant past, I'd have caved and let my son go to the concert anyway, because...Well, because I've been a total sucker who's been played like a violin over and over and over for the last six years. But not this time. There's no way in hell I'm rewarding my kid for inactivity this time around. I decided a week ago that him going to the show was out of the question, and I listed the tickets for sale on both eBay and Craigslist.

Unfortunately, as of 10:30 this morning no one has bought the tickets, which I've now got listed for $60.00--less than half of what I paid for them. But it doesn't matter to me anymore. It doesn't matter if I sell the tickets for $60.00 or $40.00 or $20.00, or whether I just give them away to someone--which is something I will seriously consider doing if no one buys them--or eat them altogether. I don't care about the money anymore. I care about standing up for what I believe in and not being a sucker anymore. Finances are incredibly tight for my family, and the thought of throwing away more than $100.00 is not an appealing one. But I'm putting my money where my mouth is this time around. Besides, maybe $115.20 in exchange for a life lesson for my son isn't a total waste of money.

My heart is broken today

2011-04-29T14:44:00.007-04:00

My wife and I had a meeting with our younger son's high school counselor today. Son #2, who suffers from Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD), along with anxiety, has been struggling in his classes. After a decent start to the school year, our son's grades have started to tumble. The primary reason for this is the ADHD. Our son just can't focus like he needs to. And doing homework is a Herculean challenge every night. Homework that probably takes "normal" kids 2-3 hours a night easily takes our son double that amount of time. Which means, quite honestly, that the homework frequently doesn't get done. Most nights, the boy is just too drained to do it. But while the bad grades are a concern, they aren't the reason for my broken heart today.

During our meeting with the counselor, we mentioned that our son has expressed fears about flunking ninth grade, and that he frequently feels stupid. The counselor then told us she was aware of those feelings, because another student had come down and talked to her about our son earlier today. This other student, bless her heart, came to my son's counselor and told her that our son was very concerned about his grades. This other student also relayed another bit of information, which is the reason for my broken heart. This student told our son's counselor that our son is scared he's turning into his older brother.

When I heard that, my heart just fell apart. Not only does son #2 have to live with and worry about his constant struggle in school, but now he's worried that he's turning into his brother. God, that has to be an incredible burden for him. And it makes me sad that he's feeling that way. My wife and I will have to work hard to see if we can eliminate that feeling; without, of course, letting on that we know about the other student talking to the counselor, because we wouldn't want to break that confidence.

My wife and I are also going to start looking into other school options for our younger son. Maybe a therapeutic school or something. We think he needs a different learning environment and more individualized attention. His current high school is rated as one of the best in the nation, but if it isn't working for him that rating means nothing to us.

Sometimes I wonder if things will ever get easier for us. After our meeting with the school counselor, my wife and I both got into the car and cried. Being a teenager is hard enough these days. Being a teenager and living with the stuff our younger son is living with just makes it that much harder for him.
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Postscript: The other night, while I was talking to my wife about all the work we need to do on our house, how our cars are on their last legs, and how we just don't have the money to do the things we need to do, she said something simple to me that I have to try to start believing myself: "I have faith that everything will work out." Of course my wife worries about stuff. But she doesn't worry anywhere near as much as I do. And she's always so grounded. For a long time her resiliency sort of bothered me. But now I'm starting to appreciate it more. My wife really is my rock. And I would be lost without her in my life.

"I can't want it more than you."

2011-03-09T22:12:00.002-05:00

I went to a high school basketball game tonight with a friend of mine, and when I came home I was frustrated that the recycling bin and garbage cans still hadn't been put away. (This is my son's job.)

So I grabbed the recycling bin from the curb and started wheeling it into the garage. My son, who had been in the garage, met me halfway and said, "I'll get that." I was kind of pissed off, so I just kept on wheeling the thing into the garage.

Imagine my surprise when I got in the garage and smelled the unmistakable aroma of pot. "What were you smoking in here?" I yelled to my son. "Just a cigarette," he answered. Not wanting to get into a confrontation, I simply responded with, "Are you sure? Because it sure smells like something else." Then I went into the house.

When I got inside, I told my wife I thought our son had been smoking pot in the garage. I asked her to go outside and see if she could smell what I smelled. She was outside for quite awhile, talking to our son. From the amount of time she spent outside, I could pretty much tell that my suspicion was true.

After my wife came back in, I asked her if I was right. She said I was, and that our son said it was just something he had "come across."

Just something he came across? That's total bullshit. The rules we laid down were simple: If you want to live in our house, you can't use drugs or alcohol. Period. And this is a blatant violation of that rule. I don't care how much or how little pot was smoked in the garage. Our kid once again has laughed in the face of our rules. And I'm totally fed up with it.

I'm not sure what the next move is. As much as I hate to do it, I think telling our son he has to find somewhere else to live is the only solution. A big, fat, giant message needs to be sent. And I don't know how else to do it.

That this happened tonight is kind of ironic. At the basketball game I was at tonight, a friend of mine asked how my son was doing. "So-so," I said. "His depression is still kicking him in the ass, but at least he's clean." Or so I had thought. Silly me.

I've also spent the last couple of days thinking about a line I heard in the episode of A&E's "Intervention" I watched the other night. At the intervention, the father was talking to his addict daughter about her getting clean. He looked at her and said: "I can't want it more than you." Man, I can't tell you how much that line resonated with me. So often I feel like I want my son to get clean more than he wants to get clean. And it's so incredibly frustrating.

I just made this post on my son's Facebook wall:

I can't want it more than you. It has to be the other way around.

Tough day today

2011-02-23T16:31:00.002-05:00

My wife and I went to the funeral of my high school friend's daughter today. This song was played during the beautiful service. I thought I'd share.

Hope

2011-02-21T10:21:00.006-05:00

This morning, my mom sent me a link to a Huffington Post blog post entitled "Families Dealing with Drug Addiction: A Letter That Offers Hope." It was a good read and I thought I'd share.

My two favorite parts of the post:

"The letter also shows that addiction is an equal opportunity inflictor. It is not restricted to low-income families, or to families in which there is a genetic disposition to alcoholism or addiction, or to inner city ghettos. It can occur in any family, even families where the parents did almost everything right (no parent does everything right) and yet somehow, their children become addicted to drugs."

And...

"Parents whose kids are addicted need hope that there is a path out of the madness, that other young people as bad as, if not worse than, their own son or daughter have acheived sobriety. I like giving people hope, but it's also necessary that they realize that while people can recover from drug addiction, it isn't easy and it just doesn't happen by accident. It means doing something about it. It means no longer denying that the abuse is occurring, that it is not simply some 'phase' that a teenager or young adult is going through and will soon grow out of."

Do yourself a favor and go read the whole post:

Link to "Families Dealing with Drug Addiction: A Letter That Offers Hope" on the Huffington Post.

Thanks, mom.

A life cut much too short

2011-02-19T18:27:00.005-05:00

I awoke this morning to some very sad news. A friend from high school, whose daughter has been battling heroin addiction for quite some time, sent me a message on Facebook. She told me that her beautiful daughter's battle with addiction came to an end this past Wednesday night; four days before her 20th birthday.

"We are still waiting to hear what the toxicology report reveals to know whether she overdosed or whether she used tainted heroin, but, either way, she's gone," my friend wrote. "As I sit here with tears in my eyes, and my heart broken and aching, I know [name withheld] is in a better place. I hope that all of her pain and suffering are gone and that she's at peace. Finally."

When I read the message, I broke down and cried. I had never met my friend's daughter, but I still feel like I have lost a family member. Perhaps it's because parents of addicts are, in a way, a family. They face the same struggles, feel the same emotions, and live in fear of the same things every single day. Unless you're the parent of an addict, you can't have any idea what it's like to have a child who is struggling with addiction. You may think you can. But you can't. And, as I've said before, it's something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy.

I talked to my friend on the phone about an hour or so ago. She seems to be doing remarkably well; but I could still hear the pain and grief in her voice. Nobody should have to bury their child. I can't imagine what that feels like.

If you're a reader of this blog, please do me a favor and say a prayer for my friend, her family, and her beautiful daughter, whose life was cut much too short. And if you have kids, PLEASE educate them about drugs. Despite what you may want to believe, it CAN happen to you. Heroin is not an "inner city" drug that's only used by "low-lifes." It's everywhere. Trust me. I know.

For my friend, I share this quote from one of my favorite authors:

"You will lose someone you can’t live without, and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly—that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp." --Anne Lamott

A harsh realization

2011-02-06T11:41:00.001-05:00

We had a huge blow-up in our house last night. It was brought on by a combination of things: the stress of my older son sleeping until almost 6:00pm.; the stress of having to do the chores that others should have done had they been awake during the daylight hours; my younger son suggesting at the dinner table that we're "poor"; coming to the realization that we're at a crossroads with my older son, and that a tough decision will soon have to be made; and the stress of my job, which I've really grown to hate, and which eats at me pretty much 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

Regardless of what the causes were, it was an ugly argument involving the whole family, and a lot of horrible things were said in the heat of the battle. Most of those things were said by me, and I truly regret saying them. Unfortunately, this sort of thing has happened too frequently in recent years, and it always seems to be me who is saying the hurtful things. I'm not sure why I do it, and I never mean to do it. But it inevitably happens. And it shouldn't.

I've come to the conclusion that I'm neither a good father nor a good husband. At least right now I'm not. A good father and husband doesn't say hurtful things to his kids and wife, no matter how angry or upset they are. I'm just not a very good person right now and I need to change before it's too late. I'm thinking an anger management class of some sort is in order. I think I'll start looking for one.

Guilt

2011-02-05T09:22:00.005-05:00

It's been about six years since my son's "issues" began, and during that time my thoughts and emotions have bounced around like an out of control Super Ball. (Some of you probably aren't old enough to get the Super Ball reference. If you aren't, just click here.)

There is a constant sadness in my heart, because I want so badly for my son to be "normal." Or at least "more normal." I hate to see my own flesh and blood struggle. And, of course, there is love. I love my son more than life itself. But I'm only human, and other feelings make their presence known quite often, too: guilt, resentment, anger, frustration, disappointment, etc. Oh, and did I mention guilt?

Guilt eats me up inside on a regular basis. Usually the guilt is associated with the feeling that I'm somehow responsible for how my son is. That he's a severely depressed addict because of something I did or didn't do as a parent, or because of my genes. I know I shouldn't feel guilty. I've had professionals tell me that, have heard it in meetings, and have read it umpteen times. If it were my brother or sister or neighbor or mother or father or friend or wife who was a severely depressed addict, I don't think I'd feel this guilt. But as a parent, it's hard not to feel guilty. At least it is for me.

Unfortunately, the guilt thing has moved to a whole new level lately. I now feel guilty for feeling the negative feelings I feel. And its kind of making me crazy.

Here's a confession: As much as I love my son, I find myself resenting him at times. It hurts me to say that, but it's true. Over the last six years, my wife and I have done everything imaginable to try and help him. But lately it seems like he just doesn't want to be helped. He seems so unwilling to do anything that might help him start to turn his life around. Is he scared? I'm sure he is. But nothing will change unless he starts taking steps to change things.

I understand that change will not come overnight. But I wish my son would show me something. Even the tiniest of baby steps would be a step in the right direction. But lately? Nothing. There's no effort at all on his part, despite the constant statements that he knows he has to change, he knows he has to do this, he knows he has to do that, he's going to do this, he's going to do that. I've heard it all a thousand times. But nothing happens.

This post was prompted by an incident that occurred very late last night. Without going into detail, my son assured me he was going to do something my wife and I had asked him to do. But he didn't do it. Then, when I got up this morning, there was a note from my son on the kitchen counter. It was an apology. In addition to saying, "I'm sorry," the note included the now standard "I know I have to do this" and "I'm going to do this" lines.

I read the note and just kind of shook my head, because I've heard this all so many times before. It's sad, but now when my son says or writes the words "I'm sorry," they have absolutely no meaning to me. I'm starting to think my son apologizes just for the sake of apologizing; not because he's actually sorry.

Should I feel guilty for feeling that way? Because I do.

Truer words were never spoken

2011-02-03T20:14:00.006-05:00

"Trying to reason with an addict was like trying to blow out a lightbulb."
--From Imperfect Birds: A Novel by Anne Lamott

Such a helpless feeling

2011-01-29T06:27:00.003-05:00

I'm feeling more helpless than usual the last couple of days. My son is really struggling. Not with addiction--although that's always part of the struggle--but with his depression and anxiety. He's in a negative rut, for sure, and I can feel the agony he's going through. It really hurts.

I've been thinking a lot lately about taking my son to the University of Michigan Depression Center for an evaluation. I've heard some really good things about the place, and they also host University of Michigan Addiction Treatment Services. I've been told that the two can work together to treat dual diagnosis (depression and addition) patients. My wife called U of M the other day but, of course, any appointment for an evaluation has to be made by our son because of his age. We met with his therapist last night and I asked him what he thought about the whole U of M idea. He thought it was an excellent idea. Now all we have to do is convince the patient.

Watching my child struggle never gets any easier. Sure, I can detach for short periods of time and try and forget about it. But when I constantly hear him say, "I hate my life" or wonder out loud why he should even bother to get up every day, it's like someone's sticking a knife in my gut and twisting it ever so slowly. I'm his father. I feel like I'm supposed to be able to make things better for my son. But in this instance I can't. And it's such a helpless feeling.

"It hurts so bad that I cannot save him, protect him, keep him out of harm's way, shield him from pain. What good are fathers if not for these things?"
--From "The Way We Are" in Bodies in Motion and at Rest: On Metaphor and Mortality by Thomas Lynch

More than anything in the world, I want my son to experience happiness. I want him to wake up in the morning and feel good about himself; to have friends; to have a job; to feel like he has a purpose in life. Right now he has none of that. But I pray every day that someday he will.

Friday Night Lies

2011-01-23T13:12:00.002-05:00

Of all the human emotions I've experienced during my nearly 50 years on this planet, I think "lack of trust" is the one that has affected me the most. And not in a good way.

I worked from home this past Friday because it was bitterly cold outside and the roads were still snow-covered and slippery from the night before. The commute home from work on Thursday evening had taken me two hours, and I wasn't about to go through a similar experience Friday morning. Thankfully, I have the option of telecommuting when necessary.

I busted my butt all day Friday and decided we should go out to dinner to start the weekend off on a fun note. We found out my younger son already had plans--going to a friend's house for "Movie Night"--but my wife, older son, and I decided we'd still go out to eat. Near the end of dinner, my son asked if he could have some money to buy a Mountain Dew at the store in the same block so he'd have one for the morning. That request seemed harmless enough, so my wife gave our son a couple of dollars and he went to the store while we finished paying the bill. As my wife and I were leaving the restaurant, we ran into some friends of hers who had just arrived, and my wife decided to stay and hang out with them.

So I started walking to the car and met my son at the door of the store. His hands were empty, but it looked like he had just put something into his pocket. I asked him, "Did you get your pop?" He said, "Yeah, it's in my pocket." I was immediately suspicious, but I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Besides, I did see that he had put something in his pocket. So I decided to let it go.

On the way home, he asked if I could drive him to a meeting and I told him I would. The meeting was at 8, and it was almost 7:45. Thinking I'd conserve some time and gas, I asked my son, "Can I just take you to the meeting now?" But he said he wanted to stop home first to "get his hat."

When we got home, I told my son to let me know when he was ready to leave. Still, though, there was absolutely no sign of the Mountain Dew. I asked him, "Don't you want to put the pop in the fridge?" He said he would, but didn't go near the refrigerator in the kitchen. By this time, I was sure something wasn't right, but I didn't want to be accusatory. At least not yet. My son then went down the basement for a minute. When he came back upstairs, he said he was going to have a cigarette in the garage, then he'd be ready to go. I asked him again, "Where's your pop?" and he answered, "I put it in the fridge in the basement."

When he went outside to smoke, I went downstairs to check the refrigerator for the Mountain Dew. Not surprisingly, there was no pop in the fridge. I then went out to the garage and confronted my kid, telling him that I knew he was lying to me about the pop. At this point, he told me he ended up not buying a pop--he had bought a lighter instead. I told him flat out that I didn't believe him and suggested that if he had bought alcohol, he'd better come clean now. Still, he insisted he had only bought a lighter.

Having been through similar situations before, I proceeded to go downstairs and search the basement a bit. In my son's backpack, I found an empty 24-ounce Budweiser can, and that set me off. The rule my wife and I established was "If you want to live here, you can't use alcohol or drugs," and my son was well aware of this. I went outside, threw the empty beer can his way, and asked him again, "What did you buy at the store?" He insisted the empty Bud can was from "a month ago," and stuck to his "I bought a lighter" story. I still didn't believe him. I also told him I wasn't taking him to his meeting because he had lied to me.

When my wife got home, I explained what had happened. Of course, a big argument ensued between our son and us, because when he does something wrong, he goes a little crazy and tries to twist things around so it somehow appears to be our fault. Typical addict behavior. In this instance, according to our son, we were making way too big a deal out everything. The empty beer can was from a month ago. He had only bought a lighter at the store. And he lied about buying the pop because he knew we'd get mad if he said he'd bought a lighter. Etc. This whole situation was our fault because we were overreacting.

Because I was still incredibly suspicious, I took the two garage door openers--one from the house and one from the car--and put them in my pocket so the garage couldn't be accessed. About an hour later, my son went ballistic again. "Now I can't even go in the garage and smoke??!!" I told him I wasn't letting him in the garage because I was pretty sure that he had bought beer with the money we gave him for pop, and I wasn't going to let him have it. "I told you, I only bought a lighter!" he insisted.

(Already too) long story short: About an hour later, after telling us numerous times how much he hates us and his life, and how we always overreact, our son finally came clean. He took the money we gave him for pop and bought a beer at the store. And it was hidden in the garage.

This was pretty much what I had suspected right from the start, from the moment I saw my son coming out of the store with something in his pocket. But even so, I was absolutely devastated. After all these years, and after having been caught so many times, my son still continues to lie and deceive like it's no big deal. Again, typical addict behavior.

My wife and I really don't know what to do at this point. Our son knew the rules we put in place and just ignored them. He says he won't go to a three-quarter house or sober living facility. And we're tired of living our lives like this. Nothing but selfishness and lies and deceit. And our money fueling his habits.

I understand that he's in a difficult place. But the stress is overwhelming. And for some reason, these little incidents ALWAYS seem to happen on a Friday night, just when I feel like I'm starting to de-stress a bit from work.

As I've said before, I never in a million years thought I'd be in a position like this with one of my kids. My son is a 21-year-old man, and it's gotten to the point where I don't believe a single thing he tells me. How incredibly sad is that? I cry every time I think about it. That's how much it hurts me. Lord only knows when--or if--I'll ever be able to trust him again.

Update

2010-12-22T07:31:00.004-05:00

I decided to say nothing to my son last night. My wife and I had discussed talking to him about it, but I just didn't want to deal with it. My nephew from New York is staying with us, and I didn't want a "discussion" about my son's drug habit to escalate into something that would ruin the night for everyone. And who knows? Maybe "The Silent Treatment" will have more of an effect than any sort of discussion would have. Lord knows my kid has heard everything I would've said last night before.

We will discuss what happened. Eventually. But I'm pretty sure that this time any such conversation will end with, "You have until such and such a date to move out of the house." Because I'm done trying to fix things. And I'm done letting my addict son dictate how I feel. And I'm tired of having a black cloud hover over my house and family. I'm just done with it all.

Oh, and I confirmed that the phone calls my son made/got came from his drug dealer. I actually called the number, just because I was curious. It was a cellphone, and the call went to voicemail. The recording said the voicemail box was full. But less than a minute later, the guy called back and I answered the phone. He thought I was my kid, calling me by my son's name. When I told him he was in fact talking to his customer's father, he claimed to have the wrong number. Interesting experience, for sure. It's not every day you get to talk on the phone to your son's drug dealer.

So disappointing

2010-12-21T21:05:00.004-05:00

Please be forewarned that this post might be a little incoherent. I'm in kind of a bizarre state of mind right now.

Tonight, after declaring that he was 67 days clean, my kid said he wanted to walk to his AA meeting because he needed to decompress. Shortly before this announcement, he got a phone call. This was right after he had made a phone call. You can probably see where this is going, can't you?

So after he left for his meeting, I checked the caller ID and the last number dialed on the phone. The numbers matched. And wouldn't you know it? The phone number was the number of my son's friendly neighborhood drug dealer. I know this because it's the same number my son called the night he gave us a sob story about owing his dealer money. The night that my wife and I so stupidly gave him the money to pay the dealer back with, thinking at the time that it was the best thing to do. We gave him the money that night, then he called the guy to tell him he was bringing it over. And the number he called that night is the same number he called tonight.

I can hardly wait to hear what my son will have to say for himself when he gets home.

This should definitely make for an interesting holiday around here. Kind of sad that it happened on the night we put our Christmas tree up.

Quote for tonight: "Trust is like a vase. Once it's broken, though you can fix it, the vase will never be the same again."

Thanks, society

2010-12-13T11:15:00.002-05:00

Well, that didn't take long.

Last night, my son told us that he really wanted to go out and buy some beer. Because that's what people do when they turn 21. (Thanks, society.) And even though he doesn't like alcohol, he likes the taste of beer. Then he asked why we think he's gonna go out and get "shit-faced"--his words, not mine--all the time.

So, less than 11 hours after I made a blog post expressing fear that my son might want to start drinking now that he's legal, that fear walks right up to me and kicks me in the gut. Hard.

My wife and I tried to explain our concerns to our son. We told him that with his addiction history, drinking probably wouldn't be the best thing for him to do. I asked him why he would even want to start drinking, especially after all he's been through; and after he's seen close up in AA meetings how alcohol can ruin so many lives. I didn't really get an answer, though.

I don't want to sound negative, but I fear that this situation is a timebomb, ticking and just waiting to explode. I think my son thinks drinking beer has nothing to do with smoking pot or snorting heroin. That drinking and drug use are totally unrelated. But with his past history of addiction, I would say there's a very high probability that he's wrong. If he starts drinking, I shudder to think what might happen. Especially with a history of alcoholism in my family.

I also told my son that if he chooses to start drinking, he'll have to do it while living somewhere else. I felt bad saying that, but my family has been through hell and back with the marijuana and heroin use. There's no way we're going to go through it all again with alcohol. We just don't have anything left in the tank. If my son wants to celebrate his entry into adulthood by becoming a drinker, he can become a full-blown adult and get himself a job and a place of his own to live.

Less than 11 hours. Damn. That didn't take long at all.

21 years later

2010-12-12T11:03:00.003-05:00

My son turns 21 today. I can't even believe it. It seems like only yesterday that my wife and I were trying to figure out how life works when there are suddenly three of you instead of only two. Now it's 21 years later. Where the hell did the time go?

I think 21 is the birthday that grabs someone who's still pretty much a kid and yanks them into adulthood, whether they're ready for it or not. People mature at different rates, but once you hit 21 you've got the "adult" label on you for the rest of your life.

As my son turns 21, I'm not sure if he's ready for that full-time "adult" status. He may be deemed an adult by the general public, but I know he still has a lot of growing up to do. He probably knows that, too.

Twenty-one is also the "magical" age in our society that allows someone to legally drink alcohol. As I've mentioned before, I'm scared to death that my son might decide to start drinking, even though alcohol has never been his drug of choice. I think he's only drank a handful of times in his life, and he openly admits that he hated it. I hope he continues to feel that way.

While I can certainly hope for what the future holds, there's no way I can control it. Lord knows I've been reminded of that on more occasions than I can count. But for today I'll revel in the fact that my adult son who lives at home will most likely spend his evening taking 21 shots at enemy troops in some video game he'll be playing on his new PS3 instead of trying to down 21 shots of alcohol in some bar or dorm room.

When you become a parent, nothing is guaranteed. You hope that your children are healthy and intelligent, and grow up to be fine adults. But if there are a few bumps in the road along the way--like addiction and depression--you have to improvise and ad lib to the best of your ability in order to help everyone--most importantly, your child--get through it. There's no owner's manual. It's like trying to figure out the most complicated computer software known to mankind just by sitting down and playing around with it. Trial and error. Over and over and over again.

All this somehow brings me back to what I think is the most powerful passage in David Sheff's remarkable book Beautiful Boy: A Father's Journey Through His Son's Addiction. It is a passage I quote with much frequency:

"Our children live or die with or without us. No matter what we do, no matter how we agonize or obsess, we cannot choose for our children whether they live or die. It is a devastating realization, but also liberating."

Yes, our children our "ours," and they always will be. But at some point, the responsibility for their lives transfers over to them, and we as parents just have to sit back and watch. Watch and hope that they can figure things out for themselves.

So, as my son turns 21 today--actually, at 9:57 pm tonight--I will celebrate his passage into "official" adulthood; not by taking him out for a beer, but by cooking him a birthday meal at home and eating some cake and ice cream with him and the rest of our family. And while he's making a wish and blowing out the candles on his birthday cake, I'll be making a secret little wish of my own.

Happy 21st birthday, son. I love you more than words can say.

46 days

2010-11-30T18:40:00.003-05:00

My son had an appointment with his addiction specialist today. His drug test was 100% clean. He has been totally drug free for 46 days. That might not sound like a lot to some of you, but it is monumental in our world.

Congratulations, son. I'm so incredibly proud of you.

It cuts like a knife

2010-11-13T14:22:00.002-05:00

One of our kitchen knives is missing. It's a knife from a nice Hoffritz set my wife and I got as a wedding present, but that was almost 22 years ago, so it's not a huge loss. At the same time, though, it was a knife I used very frequently, so I'll miss it. It wasn't even a regular knife. It was a small knife with a curved, almost hook-like blade. I used it for lots of things, including opening packages. I have no idea what could've happened to it. Maybe it'll turn up somewhere.

The reason I bring up this missing knife is because it brings back memories of some of the worst of times involving my son. A few years ago, not too long after our son's unsuccessful overdose attempt, another one of our kitchen knives went missing. We looked and looked, but couldn't find it anywhere. Eventually, though, we did find it. My son had it hidden in his bed. He was using it to cut himself. "Cutting" is something that is more common among troubled teenage girls, but some troubled teenage boys do it, too.

We were pretty alarmed to discover what our son was doing. It was another one of those "Where did we go wrong?" moments. It's tough to see the self-inflicted, bloody letters that spell "SIN" cut into your kid's bicep and not feel at least a little bit of guilt about it. That incident led to my wife and I actually hiding all the knives in the house for quite some time. We were terrified that the cutting would lead to something worse.

In any case, I was doing dishes a while ago and was washing some knives. While I was washing the knives, I kept thinking about my son and the cutting incident. This happens pretty much every time I wash the knives. Or use the knives. In fact, just seeing the knives triggers the memory. The same way that just hearing the name of a certain restaurant triggers memories of my drunken father getting into a horrible argument with my mother at that restaurant when I was a kid. Or the way the smell of an idling lawn mower brings back happy memories of my maternal grandfather--one of my favorite people ever and my son's namesake--who owned a lawn mower repair shop.

It's fascinating how the mind works. How little things can trigger memories, good or bad. I love to cook, so I use those damn knives a lot. So I think about my son's cutting a lot. Which kind of sucks. I wonder if that trigger will ever stop. Somehow, I don't think so. Oh, well.

Teens hooked on heroin

2010-11-01T19:14:00.006-04:00

Thanks to another parent of an addict for posting this 20/20 episode on Facebook. I hadn't seen it. It's worth watching to see how heroin use is exploding amongst young people these days. Very sad. But very true.

Teens Hooked on Heroin on ABC's 20/20

The inconvenience of addiction

2010-10-29T14:25:00.007-04:00

As I type up this blog post, it's 2:20 on a beautiful Friday afternoon, made even more beautiful by the fact that I took the day off of work. It would've been nice if my lovely wife and I could've gone out to lunch today or something. Instead, my wife is 30 miles away, with our son, sitting in his doctor's waiting room.

You see, in order to get his Suboxone prescription refilled, my son has to see this addiction specialist every other week. And although the doctor does take some appointments, they book up quickly and we usually miss out on getting one. So instead, my son has to be seen on a "walk-in" basis, which means really, really long waits. Sometimes three- or four-hour waits.

My son will be 21 in December, but he still doesn't have his driver's license. His life issues kind of got in the way of getting his license. As a result, we end up driving him to a lot of places: school, doctor's appointments, therapy appointments, meetings, etc. I don't even want to hazard a guess on how much time my wife and I (mostly my wife, bless her heart) have spent doing this over the last five years.

Yes, it would be great is my son could get to these places on his own, even without being able to drive. But the public transportation system around where we live is pretty awful. So for now, we'll keep playing chauffeur. And watching the minutes tick away on the clock. I'm just hoping the huge investment of time we've made pays off someday.

UPDATE: My wife and son got home at 5:00 PM. They were at the doctor's office for more than five hours. A few minutes before they got home, my other son and I got home from his therapy appointment. Thank God it's Friday.

Why are some people such assholes?

2010-10-23T22:25:00.003-04:00

My kid went to an AA meeting tonight but came home early--and very upset--because an old-timer there accused him of being high and asked him to leave. Are you kidding me?! This pissed me off so much.

Addicts attending AA meetings is a very touchy subject with many AAers. Some AA members are "old school" and don't like or want addicts at their meetings. They want the addicts to go to NA (Narcotics Anonymous) meetings instead. "Alcohol might be a drug, but drugs aren't alcohol," some of them say.

While I can sort of see their point, I have to believe that alcoholics and addicts have more things in common than they don't. And AA and NA both use the same 12-step program. The fact of the matter is, there are very few NA meetings in decent neighborhoods in close proximity to where we live. So it's easier for my son--who doesn't drive--to attend AA meetings.

I would've hoped that someone in recovery would've been a bit more sympathetic towards another person in recovery, regardless of whether that other person was recovering from an addiction to beer or wine or vodka or Vicodin or marijuana. I guess I'm expecting too much of people, though. I guess some people are just assholes. Period.

For the record, my kid wasn't high. But the side effects from Suboxone can often times make a person look like they're high. Just another obstacle for a recovering addict to overcome.

WTF? (Part 2)

2010-10-22T20:31:00.003-04:00

Today marked Day 7 of my son's Suboxone withdrawal. Unfortunately, Day 1 through Day 6 were pretty awful for him. Like I said earlier, it wasn't quite heroin withdrawal, but that doesn't mean it didn't suck real bad. Body aches, pains, fatigue, insomnia, sweating, dizziness, headaches, etc. You name the symptom and my kid probably had it. And there were no signs of any improvement.

Finally, last night, after seeing our son be miserable for almost a week, and after he missed a full week's worth of classes, we decided that we'd call the doctor's office today and ask if there was anything that could be done to ease the pain of the Suboxone withdrawal. When my wife called the doctor this morning, they told her to bring my son in.

The doctors at this particular office are addiction specialists, and today they were only accepting walk-ins. No appointments. So my wife and son made the trip out to the other side of town and waited to see the doctor. Unfortunately, the long wait they encountered forced us to have to miss a family session with my son's therapist late this afternoon. But what went down at the doctor's office was definitely interesting.

Today my son didn't see his usual doctor. (FYI, his usual doctor is the one that gave him the "stop smoking pot or lose the Suboxone" ultimatum.) He saw a different doctor, and this doctor was brutally honest about the Suboxone withdrawal. According to my wife, the "new" doctor said my son was weaned off the Suboxone too quickly, and that if he continued not taking it he would probably "be sick for a year." Of course, my reaction to hearing that was, "What the fuck?"

Evidently--and this is just speculation on my part--my son's usual doctor was trying to teach my kid a lesson by taking my kid off the Suboxone as quickly as he did. My kid didn't quit smoking pot, so Dr. Hardass figured he'd show him. OK, doc. You made your point. Thanks for fucking up my kid's world--and his family's--for a week. Now, can we move on?

The new doctor suggested that my son go back on the same Suboxone dosage. Then, after he stabilizes, the doctor will wean him off the drug at a much slower rate, which should limit the pain of withdrawal. Granted, the new doctor also told my son that he has to give up the pot smoking. And that he has to test clean very soon or risk losing the Suboxone again. But I think this doctor is a bit more sympathetic. At least I hope he is.

Let me stress that I totally understand the doctors' ultimate goal here: to get my son to stop smoking pot, which has been the gateway drug for him since he first started experimenting with drugs way back when. I certainly applaud that. But as a doctor, shouldn't your first concern be the health of your patient? You can't prescribe a drug to someone and then suddenly take it away as a punishment. A punishment that makes that person so physically ill that their whole like pretty much comes to a complete halt for a lengthy period of time. What sense does that make? Needless to say, I'm pretty pissed off at that first doctor.

So that's where things stand right now. My kid is back on Suboxone, and says he's committed to giving up the marijuana. Let's hope so. If not, the pain and misery of Suboxone withdrawal will re-visit his world again in the not-too-distant future. And that's something I don't want to be around to see.

A clarification

2010-10-19T19:05:00.000-04:00

I want to clarify something: I love my kid. More than life itself. In fact, I've often said--probably at least once or twice somewhere in this blog--that I would give my own life in a heartbeat if it meant having my son "cured." So if anyone ever reads something here and thinks I don't love my son, they're dead wrong. Am I angry? Hell yes, I'm angry. I'm also disappointed, terrified, worried, sad, frustrated, exhausted, emotionally drained, and a whole lot of other adjectives. But that doesn't mean I don't love my son. Loving someone doesn't mean you can't feel all those other things in connection with that person. And I do. Lord knows, I do.

WTF?

2010-10-17T12:14:00.002-04:00

My wife and I certainly didn't sign up for the situation we're in. But there's really not much we can do about it. There's no magic wand, no time machine (hot tub or otherwise), no special pill to make everything better. I wish there was, but there isn't. We just try to make through life one day at a time. This weekend has been a bit of a challenge, though.

Friday night, right before dinner, our son tells us that he owes money to the guy he buys his pot from. That the guy gave him pot the last couple/few times "on credit," and that Friday was the day the money was due. Fuck. The last time this happened was a couple of years ago when our kid owed his heroin dealer money. I must say, it's kind of surreal when your kid drops this kind of news on you.

So my wife and I had no idea what to do. Give our son the money so he can pay the guy? Don't give him the money and risk trouble for him (or us...or both) because the guy gets pissed off? And, of course, there's the wondering if our kid really did owe the guy money, or if he was just making up that story so he could get money out of us and go buy more pot (or whatever). I can't tell you how sad, disappointed, and angry I was. I took Friday off of work because I really felt a need to de-stress. And then, right before dinner, this shit hits the fan.

To top it all off, our son is pretty much going through withdrawal because he's stopped taking Suboxone, the opiate "substitute" he's been taking for the last couple years. His addiction specialist wouldn't refill the prescription for Suboxone. Why? Because our kid is still getting high by smoking pot. That was the ultimatum from the doctor: Stop smoking pot or lose the Suboxone. Well, he didn't stop using pot, so the doctor cut down his dosage of Suboxone and then finally stopped it altogether. I don't know what this will do to my kid. He was sick all day yesterday. It's not as bad as when he kicked heroin, but it's no fun.

So that's how the weekend has gone so far. Such is being the parent of an addict. Oh, and by the way... We gave our kid the money. And he supposedly went and paid the guy. But who really knows? We told him he'll be drug tested in a month, and if he tests positive for anything...Well, then he's in for some heavy duty shit. Assuming my wife and I don't wimp out again.

It's incredibly hard having a person who suffers from addiction in your life. It's about a million times harder when that person is your kid.

20 years smoke free

2010-10-11T12:56:00.003-04:00

Today marks exactly 20 years since I quit smoking for the final time. It was at 11:40 a.m. on October 11, 1990--7,305 days ago--that I had my final cigarette. I was 29 years old and had been smoking for about 15 years. I had quit a few times before, but those nasty cigarettes succeeded in luring me back each time. But October 11, 1990, was different.

I had gone to the doctor that morning because I had a cold. The doctor looked in my throat and asked me if I smoked. "Yes," I answered. He responded with, "Quit. Now. Not tomorrow, not a week from now. Now." That doctor's directive, coupled with the fact that my first-born son was 10 months old and starting to watch the things I did very carefully, was exactly what I needed to quit for good.

I left the doctor's office, went back to my office, went into the men's room, and lit a cigarette. "This," I told myself, "is my last cigarette." And that was it. Not once in the 7,305 days since then have I touched a cigarette. From somewhere within, I mustered up all the willpower I could imagine and stayed a non-smoker.

Quitting smoking is one of the accomplishments in my life that I'm most proud of. That might sound a bit hokey, but smoking is one of the hardest things in the world to quit. Nicotine puts its grip on you and doesn't let go. Even now, 20 years later, I still get cravings for cigarettes. But I will never ever give in to them. Smoking is a dangerous, nasty, dirty, expensive habit that I'm glad to be rid of.

Ironically, my oldest son, who was a big part of the inspiration for me quitting cigarettes, is a smoker. I hope and pray every day that he will see the light someday soon and join me as an ex-smoker.

2 years

2010-09-11T18:18:00.006-04:00

I celebrated 2 years of sobriety yesterday. I think that's pretty impressive. That's the longest I've gone without an alcoholic beverage since my mid- to late teens. I continue to try and set a positive example for both of my sons. I've also learned that drinking is overrated. You can enjoy life without drinking alcohol, even if others around you in social situations are drinking. And you save a lot of money, too.

I quit drinking because the family therapist at my kid's rehab facility told me to "Be the change you want to see in your son." And I'm glad I did. Especially since I'm the son of an alcoholic father, and I could definitely see myself starting to go down the wrong road with regards to alcohol two years ago. As my son's condition worsened, I started to use alcohol as a crutch. I was self-medicating to help me forget about my son's self-medication. How fucked up is that? In any case, I credit my wife for noticing that my wheels were starting to come off. I needed to quit drinking. Period. Yes, the family therapist's suggestion was the final motivation I needed. But my lovely wife had already seen evidence of a problem.

Thank you, honey. Thank you for caring about me.

Somebody pass the root beer.

Day 602

2010-05-05T12:15:00.002-04:00

Monday was my 600th consecutive day without a drink. So I guess that makes today day 602. Yay for me, the "example setter." Unfortunately, my son recently relapsed, which is very frustrating. I do everything I can to set an example and help him out, but the "To use drugs or not to use drugs" decision is ultimately his. I have no control over it. I realize that. But it's still so heartbreaking. And I still feel a lot of guilt. He's my son. My first-born. My flesh and blood. A part of me. And I love him so very much. But I can't fix him. He must do that himself.

(I know I haven't posted anything in a long time. Posts will probably continue to be very sporadic. Just a lot going on in my life right now between work, home, coaching Little League, etc. I may even shut the blog down soon. We'll see.)

Day 500

2010-01-23T11:17:00.002-05:00

Today marks 500 days since I last had a drink. "Be the change you want to see in your son."

I am far from anything even remotely close to perfect, but I am trying my best to set an example, not only for my oldest son, but for my youngest son, too. It's the least I can do.

Powerful, powerful words

2010-01-14T19:41:00.008-05:00

On my way home from work today, I was listening to From a Late Night High Rise, the fine 2006 album from Matthew Ryan, one of my favorite (and one of the most underrated) singer-songwriters. The last track on the album is called "The Complete Family," and it's a spoken-word "song" that Matthew wrote about his older brother, who suffered from addiction and is now serving 30 years in prison. There is one part of the "lyrics" that totally mirrors how I felt when my wife and I picked our son up from rehab (both times):

"Now I remember that day you had just gotten out of rehab.
And I was happy to see you.
Happy to hope.
That from that point forward.
All would be better.
And I was proud of you.
And we were going home.
The complete family.
A complete family.
Just you and me.
Mom and Dad.
A complete family."

The other passage that crossed my mind today is from the book called Addict in the Family by Beverly Conyers, which I've quoted in my blog before:

"Some family members admit to harboring a secret wish that the addict would die. 'At least I could mourn him and get on with my life,' they may reason. 'She's not really living anyway. God might as well take her so I can stop worrying,' they say. 'Don't I deserve a little peace of mind before I die?'

"Such sentiments are indicative of the deep suffering that many families of addicts experience. A sense of hopelessness arises when every conceivable effort to save the addict has failed. When families have given everything they have to give, and when the only result seems to be endless unhappiness, they may long for an escape no matter what the cost."

There aren't words enough to tell you just how much both of these passages move me.

Thinking and driving

2010-01-12T19:55:00.008-05:00

Because I left work a little later than usual today, my drive home was a little bit slower than usual. I spent a lot of time stopped in traffic or driving very slowly, which allowed my mind to wander a bit.

While I was giving my brain a workout, two questions popped into my head and wouldn't leave. They are actually questions I've been asking myself a lot lately:

1. Will I ever be able to trust my son again?

2. Will my son and I ever have a good relationship again?

Those are incredibly huge questions for a father to ask himself about his 20-year-old son, and it hurts me to have to ask them all the time. But I really don't know the long-term answer to either one. Right now, the only answer I can give for either question is, "I hope so."

-----------------------------------

For a good portion of my long drive home today, I was listening to my favorite sports talk radio station. They were ragging on former St. Louis Cardinals slugger Mark McGwire pretty good for having admitted yesterday to using steroids while he was an active player. The radio guys were questioning McGwire's sincerity and one of them was mocking McGwire for crying while reading his statement. "When was the last time you cried," the radio guy asked his fellow talking heads, as if to say, "What kind of man cries???" For the record, the "When was the last time you cried?" question was--unlike those other two questions I mentioned earlier--a very simple question for me to answer. The last time I cried was this morning.

What happened?

2010-01-10T14:34:00.001-05:00

What happened?

I ask myself that question a lot lately. I just wonder where things went wrong with my son. It's been more than five years since his troubles began, and there doesn't really seem to be an end in sight. Never in a million years would I have expected things to be how they are today. My son is 20 years old, doesn't have any friends, doesn't have his driver's license, has never had a job, and struggles in school. He's still severely depressed and still has issues with drug use. And nothing seems to help. Hospitalizations, therapy, rehab, intesive outpatient programs, 12-step programs, etc. My son's been through it all. But there has been very little progress.

What happened?

0 for December

2010-01-01T20:24:00.005-05:00

Not a single blog post in December? Wow. It's definitely been awhile (again) since I've posted here. It's also kind of weird that the post that broke a six-week absence from blogging was one that covered my favorite music of 2009, and had nothing at all to do with what's been going on in my life or my son's life. That's not to say that there hasn't been stuff happening on both those fronts. Trust me. There's been a lot going on. It's just that I've struggled with actually sitting down and writing about what's been happening. Hopefully I'll be able to get back in blogging mode soon. In the meantime, happy new year. I hope 2010 is a better year for all of us.

My favorite music of 2009

2010-01-01T20:13:00.004-05:00

These are the 15 albums from 2009 that I enjoyed listening to the most. The ones I went back to continuously and that stuck with me for some reason or another.

1. Matthew Ryan: Dear Lover
2. Robert Francis: Before Nightfall
3. Buddy & Julie Miller: Written in Chalk
4. David Bazan: Curse Your Branches
5. Gregory Alan Isakov: This Empty Northern Hemisphere
6. Ryan Bingham: Roadhouse Sun
7. Dave Rawlings Machine: A Friend of a Friend
8. Neko Case: Middle Cyclone
9. Patterson Hood: Murdering Oscar (And Other Love Songs)
10. Phoenix: Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix
11. M. Ward: Hold Time
12. A.A. Bondy: When the Devil's Loose
13. Wilco: Wilco (The Album)
14. William Fitzsimmons: The Sparrow and the Crow
15. Rhett Miller: Rhett Miller

Favorite Song:
"Chalk" (Buddy & Julie Miller)

Artist I Was Happiest to Discover in 2009:
Gregory Alan Isakov

Favorite Reissue/Box Set:
Do What You Want, Be What You Are: The Music of Daryl Hall & John Oates

Favorite Music Video:
Matthew Ryan: City Life

Favorite Live Show I Attended:
Kathleen Edwards w/ Clare Burson @ The Magic Bag, 2/4/09

Hyped to High Heaven, But I Like Their Earlier Albums Better:
The Avett Brothers: I And Love And You

Biggest Disappointment:
U2: No Line on the Horizon

Album I Just Didn't "Get" (And Still Don't):
Grizzly Bear: Veckatimest

My heart aches

2009-11-16T12:54:00.002-05:00

My heart aches.

It aches for my son, who has been struggling for more than five years now with depression, anxiety disorder, and addiction.

It aches because I know he is alone. He has no friends his own age. He really has no friends at all, except for fellow members of the program. I can only imagine how hard it must be for him to deal with everything he’s dealing with without having any peers to lean on. Or talk to. Or go to a movie with. Or take a walk with. Or just hang out with.

My heart especially aches because I know this is something my son will have to figure out and resolve on his own. And I know socializing is so very hard for him.

I hope and pray every day that a breakthrough will come and that someone will come into my son’s life and help make him feel “normal” again. He doesn’t deserve to be all alone.

I'm drained

2009-11-14T22:04:00.002-05:00

It's been awhile since I've made a blog post. I'm not exactly sure why. Maybe it's been a lack of energy. Maybe I've been avoiding it. Or maybe it's been a combination of those two things.

Truth be told, things have not been going very well lately. I won't go into details, because I'm just too tired. The last couple of weeks have been extremely draining, both physically and emotionally. It's hard to explain, but I feel like the life is being sucked out of me. And that's not a good feeling.

Here's hoping something positive happens soon. I sure could use it.

Good advice for parents of teens

2009-10-22T13:56:00.004-04:00

I subscribe to an e-mail newsletter by Mark Gregston, who is an author, speaker, national radio host, and the founder of Heartlight, a residential counseling center in Texas for struggling adolescents. Yesterday, his most recent newsletter arrived in my e-mail inbox.

The subject of the newsletter was "Never Give Up Parenting a Difficult Teen." One paragraph of the newsletter especially screamed out to me, so I thought I'd share it here. I need to start following this great advice:

"It’s easy to be so overwhelmed by problems with your teen’s behavior that you fail to recognize any progress. Progress is not 'problem solved.' Progress means steady improvement. So, if your child is screaming at you every day, and then only yells at you once every other day – then that’s progress! Finishing some of his homework, when he previously did no homework, is progress. Effective parenting requires that you look at the big picture while focusing on just a few problems at a time; then applauding any progress, no matter how small. Refuse to make your teen’s lack of a complete turnaround to be your constant disappointment. Turnarounds rarely happen overnight. Instead, applaud every step in the right direction, even if it is a small one."

Pretty damn enlightening, if I do say so myself.

One of those days

2009-10-13T10:23:00.001-04:00

Today is one of those days. Ever since I woke up this morning, my head has been filled with negativity. I keep asking myself stuff like, “Where did I screw up? Or, “Am I just a terrible parent?” Or, “Is it all my fault?” All the stuff I’m not supposed to feel is stuff I’m feeling today. And I hate it.

I’ve been trying really hard to be more positive lately. But I’m human. The negative thoughts do enter my mind. And when they do, they tend to put me in a pretty nasty headlock.

A friend of mine posted a quote on his Facebook page yesterday:

“Positivity is complex and draining yet fruitful. Negativity is simple and lazy yet worthless.”

I need to get out of this funk today and try and remember that quote more often. Maybe I should have it tattooed on my forehead or something.

No smoking

2009-10-11T23:57:00.002-04:00

It's just before midnight on Sunday, October 11th. I just realized a few minutes ago that I quit smoking exactly 19 years ago today. That's 6,940 days ago. And I haven't cheated once. Best thing I ever did for myself. And something I'm very proud of.

Three out of four ain't bad

2009-10-10T18:33:00.001-04:00

Today was a beautiful day in southeastern Michigan: partly sunny and 55 degrees or so. It was the perfect day for a family trip to the cider mill, and that's what my wife and I tried to pull off. Unfortunately, one member of our family (guess who) couldn't get out of bed.

We tried a couple of times to light a fire under him, but we were unsuccessful. Disappointing? Yes. But instead of letting that put the kibosh on the cider mill trip, we decided to just leave him at home. So my wife and I took our youngest son to the cider mill, drank some cider, ate some warm, greasy donuts, and then stopped and had a late lunch/early dinner on the way home.

Even though the family was only three-quarters complete, today's trip was sort of refreshing. We didn't let the actions of my oldest son change our plans for the day, and that seems like a big step forward for us.

Dishonesty

2009-10-03T08:38:00.003-04:00

We've had some issues with dishonesty in our house lately. Sometimes--actually, most of the time--dishonesty can hurt even more than the addiction. I never thought I would say that, but it's true. Honesty, along with trust, is such an important part of any relationship. And when I discover that my son hasn't been truthful with me, it's like a punch in the gut.

I have given so much of myself over the last few years to try and help my son. Asking for honesty in return seems like such a small thing. But dishonesty is indeed a part of the makeup of an addict. I was reminded of that by this passage from Addict in the Family: Stories of Loss, Hope, and Recovery:

"Closely related to denial is dishonesty. Dishonesty encompasses the evasiveness and lies, big and small, that addicts employ in their attempts to control the world . . . A small joke that hints at the denial and dishonesty at the heart of an addict's world goes like this: An alcoholic will steal your wallet and lie about it. A drug addict will steal your wallet, then help you look for it."

I often wonder if I will ever be able to totally trust my son again. I would love to get to a place in our relationship where I don't have to stop and wonder if what he's telling me is the truth or just another fabrication. But right now, that place seems so far away. And that really hurts.

No Friday night lights for me

2009-09-25T23:07:00.003-04:00

It's Friday, and tonight was the big local high school football game between the two crosstown rivals: Grosse Pointe North (the high school I graduated from 30 years ago) and Grosse Pointe South (the high school my son attended).

Earlier today a friend of mine e-mailed me at work and invited me to go to the game with him. I thought about it for a minute, then e-mailed him back and told him I probably wouldn't be going. Instead of making a lame excuse, I was just totally honest with him:

"maybe i'll come. but i'll be perfectly honest with you...going to high school events after what i went through with [my son's name] at south is really, really hard for me. that probably sounds dumb, but it's just something i struggle with. so don't be surprised if i don't show up."

After I sent that e-mail, I wondered if what I said would sound crazy to my friend. But I felt some comfort when I remembered a passage from the book Addict in the Family: Stories of Loss, Hope, and Recovery by Beverly Conyers (which I've quoted in my blog before). I happened to have that book with me at work, so I pulled it out of my backpack and re-read the passage I was thinking of:

"Todd scratched his head, causing the silver-brown hair to stand on end. He took a long time getting to his next point, which for him seemed to be the most difficult. 'I listen to our friends talk about what their kids are doing: graduating from college, starting careers, getting married and settling down. Normal stuff, you know? I just change the subject. What did they know that I didn't? Where did I go wrong?'"

Unfortunately, this is something I struggle with almost every day. Seeing "normal," well-adjusted kids around my son's age is hard. Being around their parents? That's even harder. It's why I avoided the graduation parties when my son's class graduated last summer. It's why I have trouble hearing my friends talk about their kids' high school and college activities. And it's why I just don't feel like going to the local high school football games. All those normal kids and normal parents in one place? Man, that would just smother me.

A few hours later, my friend e-mailed me back, and the words in his reply made me realize that he is indeed a good friend:

"That is not dumb at all. I thought of that potential issue when I invited you. I am sure almost everyone would have those same thoughts."

It felt so good to know that somebody else understood how I felt.

My son's lyrics just moved me to tears

2009-09-18T13:39:00.013-04:00

So I'm sitting at work today. Just a few minutes ago, in fact. And I'm listening to music on my iPod Shuffle. And a song that my son wrote and recorded a couple of years ago comes on in my headphones. I had forgotten all about this song, which is very Elliott Smith-esque. But I listened to it very carefully. Three times. The lyrics brought tears to my eyes. They're just so damn honest. Painful to listen to or read. But so brutally honest. I just wanted to share them.

"REVELATION"

Plastic sunset on a boulevard
Lights up diamonds
Drops of blood on a playing card
Held in hand
When the needle starts to rust
I won't need to find a vein
Was it love or was it lust?
Guess it's all the same

How can this be happening now?
It's too loud
My head is spinning
I'm off the ground
Am I living or dead?
I don't know how I got here
Nowhere
So fast

When the faucet spits out blood
I'll find new ways to
Wash my hands
Everybody's got a reason to
Reprimand
I'm lonely, I'm so lonely
How can I live this way?
Social butterfly with broken wings
Do you feel the pain?

How can this be happening now?
Not now
I'm too young
I haven't got enough clout
To black out
The sun
I got a feeling I'm not
What I could have been.

365 days

2009-09-10T09:37:00.001-04:00

As of today, I have been totally alcohol-free for 365 days. "Be the change you want to see in your son." That's what they told me in a family therapy session at my son's rehab facility a year ago. So I'm just trying to do my part.

Last night I was amazed when I realized that this is probably the longest stretch of total sobriety I've had since I was 14 years old. Wow. That's more than 30 years ago. (Yes, I did some stupid things as a teenager.)

Alcohol is overrated. You can have fun without alcohol. You can socialize without alcohol. You can relax without alcohol. You can work through your problems without alcohol. You can live without alcohol. I know, because I've been doing it. For exactly one year.

What a nightmare

2009-09-06T10:12:00.002-04:00

I had a horrible, horrible nightmare last night. I won't go into detail. I'll just tell you that it involved drugs and both of my sons. It was so vivid and seemed so real. I woke up crying and in a state of panic. Thank God it was just a nightmare.

I've had trouble sleeping for a long time. Nightmares like this are a big reason why. I wish I could somehow erase my brain at bedtime so I could get eight consecutive hours of quality sleep. What a wonderful thing that would be.

One year ago

2009-09-03T19:05:00.002-04:00

I've debated back in forth in my head whether or not to write this post, and as I work on it in an offline text editing program I'm still not sure if I'll actually post it when I'm finished. But regardless, for now it's at least a little bit of therapy for me.

Today is the third of September, which means that tomorrow marks the one year anniversary of one of the worst days of my life. It was on September 4, 2008, that my son revealed to me and my wife that he was addicted to heroin. I remember the day like it was yesterday. Something like that isn't easily forgotten.

My son had just "passed" a random drug test we had given him, but then broke down in tears and told us that he needed help; that he needed to go to rehab. He had been snorting heroin for quite some time, and he was hooked. I was devastated. To add insult to injury, I felt incredibly stupid when my son told us that he'd been using clean urine--saved in a 20-ounce Mountain Dew bottle--for the random drug tests we had been giving him. For weeks my wife and I had assumed our son was clean, when in reality he was hooked on one of the worst drugs known to man.

"Heroin addict" isn't a term I ever thought would be associated with one of my kids. To me, a heroin addict had always been something out of the movies. Or someone you'd see on the streets in the inner city. I mean, it's heroin. Sure, my son had abused marijuana and some prescription drugs in an effort to self-medicate for his depression. We were aware of that and had dealt with it. But eighteen-year-old suburban kids don't use heroin. At least that's what I thought. Unfortunately, I was wrong.

I would later find out that heroin is the new "in drug" among kids my son's age. It's cheap and easy to find. So easy, in fact, that my son was getting it from a house about a quarter of a mile away, just across the nearby main street that separates our suburban "utopia" from the city of Detroit. Who knew? Certainly not me or my wife.

My wife and I worked quickly to get our son admitted to an inpatient rehab facility, where he would end up staying for about a month. I can guarantee you that I'll never forget the car ride out to the hospital: Me in the driver's seat, my wife in the passenger seat, and my son in the back, curled up in the fetal position, shaking, shivering, holding his stomach, and crying. This was heroin withdrawal, live and in person. I remember thinking to myself, This is what heroin addicts look like in the movies. I felt like I was in a movie. It was all so surreal. And so painful. And so very, very hard.

A year later, I can say that my son is doing much better. Have there been some bumps in the road since he got out of rehab? Absolutely. Will there be more bumps in the road going forward? Certainly. But my son is alive and working hard to stay clean. He's going to school and trying his best. He's going to meetings almost every night and to outpatient treatment once a week. And he's trying to move ahead, one day at a time.

It's funny. I'm guessing that most parents don't wake up every morning and thank their higher power that their child is, quite simply, alive. But I do. Because I know that if my son hadn't asked us to get him help a year ago, he might not be alive today. Which probably means that September 4, 2008, was not only one of the worst days of my life, but maybe one of the best, too.

I love my son with all my heart.

Words can mean so much

2009-08-21T15:32:00.004-04:00

I'm incredibly grateful for the message someone took the time to send me today. It blew me away and has inspired me to continue to go forward, be brave, and keep the faith. Yes, sometimes simple words from someone who knows a little bit about what you're going through can mean so much. Today is a good day because someone cared enough to send me some words. So simple. Yet so inspiring. Thanks, DRA.

I Miss My Son

2009-08-17T14:19:00.005-04:00

I miss my son.

I miss the son who was here before the depression.
Before the anxiety.
Before the suicide attempt.
Before the stigma.
Before the drug use.
Before the hospitals.
Before the rehabs.
Before the constant battles that make up our lives now.

I miss his smile.
I miss his laughter.
I miss his sense of humor.
I miss his energy.
I miss his enthusiasm.
I miss his friends.
I miss his conversations.
I miss seeing him happy.

I love my son.
I love his eyes.
I love his caring heart.
I love his creativity.
I love his courage.
I love his intelligence.
I love his sensitivity.
I love him with all my heart.

Ask me what one thing I would wish for if given the chance.
It's such an easy question to answer:
I want my son back.

I want him to feel happiness.
I want him to feel at ease.
I want him to feel wanted.
I want him to feel like he belongs.
I want him to laugh.
I want him to love.
I want him to live.
I want him to be free of the demons that seem to haunt him.

I miss my son.
God, I miss him so much.

I'm burned out

2009-08-13T12:34:00.002-04:00

The title of this post says it all. Things are just taking their toll on me lately. The situation with my son continues to be an ongoing issue. Work is kicking me in the ass. My financial situation is far from ideal. Etc. Because of all this, I have found it nearly impossible to sleep lately. I've only been getting a couple of hours of sleep--if that--every night for the last month or so. I'm just exhausted. Not sure what to do anymore.

Remembering Richmond

2009-07-28T21:27:00.005-04:00

We got back from vacation on Sunday afternoon. It was a vacation that was supposed to be relaxing and fun. But it turned out to be stressful and heartbreaking. A couple of stupid decisions by my son and the whole vacation blew up in our faces. Not only that, but I'm almost positive that there are now two more families shaking their heads and wondering what the hell is wrong with us.

To make matters worse, not 20 minutes after we got home from vacation, things blew up at home. It was so emotionally and physically draining that I had to take a sick day on Monday instead of working at home like I usually do. I just needed some time to clear my head.

I long for a day when things in my life are relatively normal, but I don't think that day will ever come. I think being the parent of a recovering addict is forever. I think it's just something I have to get used to. That's unfortunate, but when you have kids nobody guarantees that it's going to be easy.

Last night, I went to a Little League tournament game with a friend of mine. Our league's 11-year-old tournament team is in the state tournament and going to watch them play was my therapy. The weird thing is that the tournament is being played in Richmond, Michigan, at the same Little League complex where my son's tournament team won the state championship when he was 12. It was my first trip back to those baseball diamonds since that magical night in 2002. Back then, I never could've imagined that just seven years later we'd be in the situation we're in now. My, how things have changed.

Some things don't take a vacation

2009-07-24T20:29:00.002-04:00

I'm on vacation, staying at my in-laws' cottage on Duck Lake in Grawn, Michigan. My wife's cousin from Phoenix and her family were here, too, until this morning. Now we're waiting for my wife's brother and his wife and two girls to get here tonight. They're flying in from New York City.

Even though I'm on vacation, last night was one of the single worst nights of the last few years. My son did something he shouldn't have done, and when confronted about it he pretty much went ballistic. The whole incident was physically and emotionally draining, and incredibly embarrassing. I don't even know if trying to help my son is worth it anymore. I mean, at some point I think I have to just cut the cord and let him fly solo, even if it means he crashes and burns.

We're at the cottage for two more nights, but I wish to God there was a way for me to be home right now. It's almost impossible to relax and have fun after what went down last night. Especially in the company of others.

Kids say the darndest things

2009-07-05T12:25:00.005-04:00

Yesterday my son said he was running out of cigarettes and needed money to buy some more. My wife and I made the crazy suggestion that he do some chores to earn the money to buy his smokes. Then I remembered that he had returned a bunch of empty bottles earlier in the day, so I suggested he take that money and buy his cigarettes. His reply?

"I don't want to waste my money on cigarettes."

I couldn't have said it better myself!