"Hope is a verb with its sleeves rolled up."

It's been almost a month since I've posted anything here and I'm not sure why. Primarily, I think it's because things have continued to go well for my son, who is now coming up on 13 months clean and sober.

Thirteen months may not sound like a long time, but it wasn't that long ago that I was giddy if my son stayed clean for 13 days. For the parent of an addict in recovery, 13 months seems like an eternity. Personally, I still don't think I've gotten totally used to clean and sober being the "norm" for my son. But I am grateful beyond belief for every day. These days are gifts from God.

I also realize that my son will be working to stay clean for the rest of his life. His addiction isn't cured. He just has it under control. I know that today, or tomorrow, or three months from now, or three years from now things could change. But I don't worry about that like I used to. You have to live in the moment and concentrate on today. Like I've said before, the "one day at a time" adage doesn't apply only to the addict; it applies to his or her family and loved ones, too.

Although I am thrilled to death with my son's progress, I've also had some conflicting emotions lately. My son being clean and sober is an amazing thing. But I still feel for all the parents of addicts out there who are not experiencing what I am experiencing right not. I belong to many online groups for parents of addicts and see the pain and suffering that mothers and fathers are going through every day. These are parents whose children are still actively using. Some of these kids are living on the streets, some are in jail, some are overdosing. And some are dying.

I am all too familiar with the pain that a parent of an addict who is actively using feels. And my heart breaks for these parents. Granted, it was a long, hard road for my son--and our family--to get where we are today. But many of these other parents have been on longer, harder roads. Some have lost hope. Others struggle to get through each day. Again, I know that feeling. But I have been given a reprieve from it. At least for now.

If you read this blog, please take a moment out of your day to say a prayer--or whatever your equivalency of that is--for all of the parents and families of addicts who are still suffering; and for the addicts themselves.

Addiction sucks. It is something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. It takes your loved one and changes them into someone you don't even know. It rips families apart, emotionally and financially. And it is physically and mentally exhausting for everyone associated with the addict.

Being the parent of an addict isn't something you ask for, just like being an addict isn't something addicts ask for. It just happens. And when it does, you deal with it the best you can. And you try to never lose hope.

Speaking of hope... A few weeks ago my wife and I were at the garden store buying a plant. At the cash register was a container of rocks with inspirational words etched into them. One of them said "hope." I picked it up and looked at it, saw the $3.98 price tag on it and thought that was too much money to pay for a rock.

A week later, something inside me told me I needed that rock. So I made a special trip back to the store, walked up to the register, was relieved to see that the "hope" rock was still there, and I bought it. Something about doing that made me feel better. The rock now sits on our dining room table as a constant reminder.

"Hope is a verb with its sleeves rolled up." --David Orr

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

Oh, I almost forgot to mention the party we had on July 6th to celebrate my son's one year of sobriety.

It was a great time. Very low-key, with just the right amount of people. It was great to see some people we hadn't seen in a long time. And to meet some of our son's friends for the first time.

We also had a local rock band called Destroy This Place play a set in our back yard. They were great and they were LOUD. But thankfully no neighbors complained or called the police. In fact, a couple of neighbors came by to check the band out.

The best part of the band's performance? For their last song--a cover of Nirvana's "Territorial Pissings"--they asked my son to come up and jam on the guitar. Which he did. And he loved every minute of it. The smile on his face made that perfectly clear.

A few days later, my son posted this on Facebook as his status update:

"On July 2nd, 2013, I celebrated one year clean and sober, and my life is beyond what I ever thought possible."

My son's 1-year coin.

Destroy This Place ripping it up in my back yard.

Guest blog post from my wife

Today is a special day. Our son has been sober for one year. It took a lot of years to get here. Addiction is not a quick fix, and the road to recovery tends to go in circles for a while before the lucky ones find their way out.

I feel incredibly blessed that our son has made it out of the maze and into the light. It is so wonderful to see him smile, hear him sing, and watch him get on with his life. He has a job and a beautiful girlfriend. He has fun with his friends doing things that young people enjoy: going to baseball games and concerts and eating out. 

When he was using, he spent a lot of time in the garage and a lot of time sleeping. He spent most of his time in the dark. I felt helpless and hopeless. When I walked into my first Al-Anon meeting I did not think anything or anyone could help me. Thankfully I was wrong. I learned how to live my life in the midst of craziness. It was not easy but I took little steps forward while our son seemed to be taking many steps backward. I didn’t want to leave him behind but soon realized that I couldn’t carry him with me. He had to follow his path and I had to follow mine. 

Today, after lots of small steps forward and many one-days-at-a-time, we can celebrate this wonderfully ordinary day.

--KCD

Smile

As my wife and I count down to our son's one-year sobriety anniversary (just a week to go!), it's great to hear other people say things that confirm the progress we have witnessed in our son.

Today a friend of ours--who helped our son very early on and still sees him from time to time--came over to borrow a card table because he was helping a friend put on an estate sale across the street. He told us to come over and take a walk through the house for a preview of the sale.

When my wife and I went across the street we started talking to our friend about our son and how far he's come. Our friend had nothing but praise for our son. Our friend's wife was also at the house and she, too, had nothing but wonderful things to say about our boy. She told us how much better he looks, how much more talkative he is, and how much he smiles now.

That last comment? The part about the smiling? That's the thing I took to be the ultimate compliment and it's something my wife and I have noticed, too. Our son seems so much happier these days. It sounds like such a little thing; but he actually smiles.

To an "ordinary" parent, a smiling child is probably something that's often taken for granted. But when you've been through what my wife and I have been through, seeing your child smile--and hearing other people talk about it--is something extraordinarily beautiful.

I am so happy and proud. And I've been smiling all night.

Celebrating sobriety

Today I am 1,748 days sober. For those of you who aren't good at math (like moi), that's 4 years, 9 months, and 14 days. Big deal, right? Not much cause for celebrating a crazy number like that. Plus, the main reason my wife and I gave up drinking was as an act of solidarity: "Be the change you want to see in your son" is what the family therapist at my son's rehab facility told us in September of 2008. That's all we needed to hear.

My wife and I have been sober for nearly five years, but we don't really celebrate the dates we stopped drinking. Oh, sure; when September 10th rolls around each year I recognize the fact that it's a milestone for me. But there's not any fanfare other than maybe a post on Facebook or something.

Enter my son, who is just over a week away from having one year of clean and sober time under his belt. One year. Wow. When I think about that I am literally moved to tears. My son has struggled with depression and addiction since he was 15. Actually, the whole family has struggled because addiction is a family disease. There may be only one addict, but the entire family--immediate and extended--is sucked into the throes of addiction.

As my son has piled up months of clean time, we have celebrated quietly. When the second of the month rolls around, my wife and I express gratitude and tell our son how proud we are of him. Our son marks his anniversary at his AA meeting and his pride and confidence grow. And we all move on, one day at a time.

But when July 2nd rolls around in just a few days, it's going to be different. It's going to be special. It will be one of the proudest moments of my life.

It wasn't too long ago that I wondered if my son would ever achieve a year of sobriety. When you're the parent of an addict in recovery, you certainly hope for the best. And while you don't necessarily expect the worst, you know that it's always a possibility. That's why my wife and I have worked so hard to learn to live in the moment and appreciate every day for what it is.

I don't know if there's a "protocol" for celebrating or not celebrating your son being clean and sober for a year. But I do know this: My wife and I are going to celebrate. In fact, we will be celebrating by throwing a party for our son on the Saturday following his milestone date.

We will have a small to medium gathering of our friends, family, and our son's friends at our house. We will serve pizza, salad, and dessert--birthday cake seems appropriate--along with water and soda. It will, of course, be an alcohol-free event.

There will also be a very loud and talented rock and roll band playing in our backyard. A friend of ours is in a band called Destroy This Place, and its members were all cool with coming to our house and playing to help celebrate this occasion. (My wife and I passed letters out to all of the residents on our block and the next block over to warn them about the party and the loud band. We've received nothing but positive responses so far...let's hope no one complains on the day of the party!)

My wife and I don't host parties very often. But this is one party we felt we needed to throw, to celebrate the efforts and glorious achievement of our son. It will be fun to spend time with family members and friends who have been so supportive over the years. Celebrating sobriety.

P.S. Our son also just landed a new job. He's working with a contractor who installs and finishes hardwood floors. So far he's enjoying the work, the money, and being trained by the owner. He's working full time and that's a blessing.

P.P.S. Here's the latest music video from Destroy This Place. Maybe if we're lucky, they'll bring the deer mask to the party!

A sweet victory over Urban Outfitters

As many of you know, I have been working my tail off for more than a month trying to get Urban Outfitters to pull prescription drug related merchandise that they were selling in their stores and on their website. (See my post Urban Outfitters: WTF???)

Countless e-mails to the CEO of the company, tons of Tweets, the creation of a Facebook page dedicated to the cause, a bevy of Facebook posts; that all paid off this past Friday, when Urban Outfitters announced that they were pulling the merchandise in question from their stores and website.

In the grand scheme of things, my role in this was very small. Much larger roles were served by The Partnership at Drugfree.org, several state attorneys general, and the American Association of Poison Control Centers. But I do feel like my efforts helped, and I am enjoying the sweet taste of victory.

Although the statement issued by Urban Outfitters was disappointing--saying that these products were "misinterpreted by people who are not our customers"--the most important thing to me is that the merchandise is no longer for sale at UO.

This just goes to show you what can happen when a group of people band together for a cause. I am very grateful that teens and young people--the demographic of Urban Outfitters--will no longer be exposed to these products that make light of the misuse of prescription drugs.

I'm also pretty sure that Urban Outfitters CEO Richard Hayne will not miss getting e-mail from me every day.

Father's Day postscript

Me and my boys on Father's Day. This truly is what life is all about.

Happy Father's Day

If I'm counting correctly, this is the fourth Father's Day post I've made on my blog over the years. The others were in 2009, 2011, and 2012.

If you want to go and revisit those, feel free. The 2009 and 2011 posts were pretty bleak, as I've always struggled with Father's Day. I can't help it. That's just the way it is when you grow up feeling like you don't really have a father.

Last year's post was more positive, primarily because I was feeling better about myself as a father. But I was still feeling bad due to the lack of a relationship between me and my father, who was in the hospital at the time.

This year, things are different: My dad is no longer with us. Even so, I am not struggling like I used to because I was able to forgive and reconnect with my dad for the last six months of his life. My only real regret? That he's not here today to hear me say "Happy Father's Day." If he were, and if I could say those words to him, I would actually mean them...for the first time in over 40 years.

It's funny how things work out. I went 40+ years despising Father's Day because I didn't want to make that phony phone call or give the obligatory card and gift because I felt like I had to. Today, I wish I could make that phone call and give that card and gift...because I want to.

But I am at peace today. And that's huge to me.

Last Father's Day, my older son was in Georgia living with a friend he met in rehab in Palm Springs. He seemed to be doing fine, but in hindsight he wasn't. I thank God that he realized this a couple weeks later and chose to come back to Michigan and move into a sober living house. A year later, he is more than 11 months clean and sober and inching closer to that one-year anniversary. I am so incredibly proud of him.

Last Father's Day, despite his struggles with ADHD, my younger son had just finished his sophomore year at our local public high school. A year later, he has just finished his junior year at a new school: The Leelanau School in Glen Arbor, Michigan. The school was great for him and I am so proud of what he accomplished there. He stepped outside his comfort zone and tried new things like drama and music and playing basketball. I hope he can go back in the fall for his senior year and graduate from this awesome school.

Last Father's Day, my wife and I were working on our recovery. We are still doing that and have come such a long way from where we were just a couple of years ago. Living in the moment, taking care of ourselves, doing things for us; we've finally learned how important those things are.

Last Father's Day, my mom sent me a pretty long e-mail filled with the beautiful things she's so good at saying. Today, her e-mail was shorter. But it still hit me right in the heart:

"HAPPY FATHER'S DAY to the BEST/GREATEST FATHER I know !!       XXXOOO  Mom"

This Father's Day is the best one ever. My wife and younger son are home. And my older son is coming over shortly. We will cook good food and be together, all of us having grown and matured over the past year.

Happy Father's Day. Life is good.