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.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Friday, June 3, 2011
"He looks better already."
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 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.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
The Doorway to Recovery
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.
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.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Some progress, perhaps?
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.
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.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Free to a good home
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!!!
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
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.
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.
Friday, April 29, 2011
My heart is broken today
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.
--------------------------------------------------------------
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.
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.
--------------------------------------------------------------
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.
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