What do you do when the addict has upped the ante and in order to save his life you have to trick him? Does it matter if you trick a trickster? I am sure the signs were there but again I was so overwhelmed with the steps, my feelings, everyone else’s feelings and daily life that sometimes maintaining vertical was a false state. Was I in denial or even enabling him? Those words are certainly the favorite choice of experts in describing loved ones of addicts however the words are limited by their dictionary definitions that don’t account for the emotional definitions. How I felt about and reacted to the steps, words and process was a jumbled mess because my emotional definitions were completely broken down by things not going as I had planned in life. So even though I understood the importance of the steps, sometimes I would just pray for normal and when that didn’t work I would just pretend things were normal. Perhaps if I had understood my emotional definitions I would have handled this better but I didn’t. There was a lot of pressure to deal with the addict and his behavior and those once a week meetings as a family focused on that. Living everyday with the fact that my child was an addict was a punch in the gut that brought every doubt about who I was to the front and overrode any certainty that I had on my mad parenting skills. Anger and depression went hand in hand on this path of hell that was a vicious cycle of reviewing the steps I had done to raise my children and the failure. I just couldn’t get beyond those emotions in order to fully engage in the new steps of salvation. How can anyone? My knowledge had tricked me. My son had tricked me. Drugs had tricked all of us.
I was desperate. Desperate to get out of this hell and desperate to save my son. Outpatient treatment should have never been the choice for him. Ryan had tricked everyone but especially me. He banked on my love for him to override the fact that things did not add up and for a while that worked. Drugs had rewritten his emotional definitions and I was completely unaware that drugs do that. Drugs were his ruler now and what that meant was still not in my emotional definitions. How do you process, deal with and make steps to beat a monster that has complete control over your child when you don’t even know what all that really means? How do you do it when it means different things to different people? How do you do it when the addict is a separate being from your child?
Once his tricks became obvious I realized he would need inpatient treatment in another state but he was facing charges in the juvenile system so I consulted his lawyers. Their answer was an emphatic no. I did not think about the courts or the repercussions of sending him out of the state. I only knew in my heart that he had to go. I found a place out of state and made arrangements for him to go there. I had chosen it because Ryan would be outdoors in the wilderness. He would be far from civilization. I told them that Ryan would not go willingly and they gave me the name of a person who transports addicts to their treatment center. I dialed this man’s number. We arranged to meet.
Over lunch, we talked about my son, where he was going and what it would take to get him there. I assessed this man to see if he was trustworthy of my hiring him for this difficult task. I do not know what he thought of me but he did say I was doing the right thing. I did not mention to any of these people about Ryan’s impending court date. I only mentioned that he would have to be taken by force. Force. I had hired a man and his partners to take down my drug addict son while having lunch. Was this really happening? I had warned the transporter that Ryan would not go without a fight and they needed to be prepared for that. We selected a date and decided exactly how it would happen. I had new steps to follow. I felt scared and yet invigorated because I was sure these were the right steps to correct the failure.
My next goal was to enlist my oldest daughter Ashlee in to helping me. Dear Ashlee who loved her brother and was my biggest supporter. I knew she would be able to get her brother to the house under the false pretense of a family dinner. She would then be able to lure Ryan back to his bedroom to talk. I was so sure of what needed to be done that I did not worry about how my choices would affect her or anyone else for that matter. I knew she would see the right in sending Ryan to rehab and that was as far as I got in my thought process. I don’t know how it felt to her to make the choice to betray him or to watch him be taken down. I did not ask her before it happened if she was okay with it nor did I ask her afterwards if she was okay with it. I just expected her to handle this emotionally. I just assumed she would be okay. Can doing what is right balance out the emotional pain of a sister placed in the position of being a key player in the betrayal of her brother? Would their relationship survive the betrayal? Would it affect our relationship? I didn’t think about it because I was acting like my drug addict son. I was making decisions that could cause harm but I didn’t care because it was for the good of saving Ryan and for me. I am sure he would have said that using drugs was for his good because he felt no pain when he was high. That impending transport to rehab made me feel high. It was a moment of parallel between Ryan and I. Both of us wanted relief from the pain and both of us were willing to do whatever it took to get that relief. Opposite sides but parallel. Both of us expected others to pay the price and banked on love to override our actions.
I was maintaining vertical and Ashlee was about to pay the price for it…all in the name of love and saving Ryan…
My son’s lawyers advised me to get him into a drug program. They said it would look good in the eyes of the court. The court. People unknown to me who had no knowledge of me or my child but would be deciding his fate due to his actions. I was completely panicked at this point. What had started as a shock that my child was using drugs quickly became a minute by minute range of emotions and pain on a daily basis. How was I supposed to handle or even survive all of this? Of course everyone has opinions on what to do, especially the judgers, but try LIVING IT. Who has a happy life and then decides to exchange it all for a stint in Hell?
Searching for a treatment plan was like taking a test on a subject that I had never taken the class for and my child’s life depended on my getting an A. I had to trust the people selling the programs because the experts supposedly had the master key. I had to trust that their formulas added up and that the numbers of successes were indeed truthful. In reality I should have talked to the people who went through the programs on a personal level instead of just reading and accepting what was said on the website or on the brochure or by the people involved with the program. I should have talked to the addicts because after all that was what my son was. People selling a program believe that program and they are not going to point out any flaws. They are going to claim that their way is the right way and if it does not work for an addict well…relapsing is a part of recovery. Some programs claim to have experience with multiple relapses. Is that because the addict failed to commit? Or is it because the program is not the right one? Or is it because addiction is a disease that holds the whole family accountable and not just the addict? How can this be so complicated? Because I felt I had failed some how or my child was a failure some how, I became a vulnerable parent desperate to solve my child’s addiction even though I still clearly did not understand what that meant. Why did he start and why cant he just stop?
I started by taking my son to an interview with an inpatient treatment program in another city. Based on their assessment that was determined by what they saw and heard, I was advised that Ryan did not belong in an inpatient treatment program. I am guessing that his appearance of a clean cut, polite young man played a role in that decision. I am SURE HIS LIES on the level of his drug use carried a lot of weight on their recommendation. People using drugs have already sold their souls for the cathartic relief they get while using. They are unaware or don’t care that the cost raises with each use until a catastrophic event, like being arrested or over-dosing or even dying, alters the game. Drugs are a life and death game for the addict, even the family, but processing that takes time and emotions prevent the process from moving quickly. How can any 30-90 day treatment program produce a win with MY CHILD whom I know better than anyone? Can it really be a win or is it a delay of game?
Our next step was an outpatient program. Fortunately there was one close by. Ryan and I went in for his assessment. We chose this program because they said all the right things based upon my knowledge. The requirement was that Ryan would attend several nights during the week, Saturday mornings and the “family” one night during the week. It seemed all so simple. Attend this, follow through with this, add this and in no time you will be moving forward again in life. No one actually said that but it felt like that. I was sure we would all be fine however the whole process of A plus B plus C plus…did not take into account all the players, all the members of the family and all the emotions that are involved. Every single person has to change behavior(s) in order for those steps to add up to the win. What happens if the players, the family, the addict or the master (known as drugs) don’t change or miss a step? How can anyone change when you are still trying to accept being in Hell?
A lot of treatment programs follow the 12 steps process of AA and this program chose to include that too. Meetings became our lifeline and the new “healthy addiction”. Parents introduced themselves at each meeting as the PODA of so and so. The counselor introduced himself as a survivor of this and an addict of that. I did not understand how introducing one’s self as an addict/survivor or parent of an addict everyday of one’s life actually helped anyone. The badge of whose kid was the worst or who was suffering the most became the norm. I did not want to keep talking about being in this group. I wanted hope that this would end. I could not understand how anyone would be a lifetime addict if treatment was completed. Confused emotions became a part of the deal because of this reality. There was comfort in knowing others were going through this. There was comfort in the plan. There was sadness in “forever an addict”. There was complacency of never getting out of the group of PODA. My mind kept screaming “Please let me out. I don’t want to do this. This can’t be right”. I was quietly dying on the inside.
Perhaps it was my need to get out of the group of PODA or my not understanding addiction is for life or just plain denial that led to many missteps along the way. Those missteps led to the believing of my son when he spoke even if events didn’t add up just because I couldn’t maintain being vertical for that day. His addiction also highlighted the flawed family that we were as we did not come together to work to save one of our own. The anger of family members and the fear of others placed me in the position of carrying the weight of our world on my shoulders. No one thought twice of heaping more responsibility, blame or pain on me. My daughters (as well as my son) needed me to solve this because it was destroying me and them. I kept trying to find the balance between emotion/pain and the normalcy that every day life requires. I believed I was doing this well but the reality of everything kicked me in the gut once again.
It became apparent that my son was again using drugs heavily. The hunt was on for an inpatient program that was out of state and the people who would be able to forcibly transport him there because he would not have gone willingly. I would have to set Ryan up for the take down while going against his lawyers and the court in order to save him. I am a rule follower. In fact breaking rules makes me very nervous but I was desperate and determined. I knew failing meant my son would die whether anyone else understood that or not. Time was not on my side so I made the call to a place in Utah…
I wasn’t actually sleeping when I was awakened from my dream. It was almost midnight and I was up cleaning my house because we had all been sick with the flu and things were in a disarray. The phone rang. I thought it was my son calling to say he was spending the night away. The voice on the line wasn’t Ryan. It was a police officer and he informed me that my son had been arrested for drugs. He gave me the option of picking him up or they would take him to juvenile detention. Now I am a talker. My favorite description of myself is that I am long winded. I can’t tell you that anyone else appreciates that about me but it is who I am. I, however, was at a loss for words so I said the only words that I could, “I don’t know what to do”. Those were the words that were going through my mind. I just happen to say them out loud to this officer. What do you do when you never imagined that your dream was in actuality a nightmare and you have been falsely walking down the road called “We Are Fine”? The officer’s response to me was that I had 15 minutes to call him back to tell him what I was doing.
I stood in the same spot where I had answered the phone. I just stood there. My mind was in sensory overload and I could not get beyond the shock of hearing the words “your son has been arrested for drugs”. I was in full panic mode. I had done all the things that I had thought were the appropriate actions to prevent my child from becoming involved with drugs. He participated in sports. He had taken part in the drug prevention programs at his schools. I had talked about not using drugs. I was involved. How did we get to this point? When did he step off the road? I had to make a decision quickly and that is never an easy thing for me because I spend a lot of time assessing situations.
I called the officer back and told him I would come get Ryan. Maybe I shouldn’t have but that’s what I chose to do. Some would say that I was in denial or being naïve. Some judgers still say I am. Well who wouldn’t be? The only way not to be is to plan for your child to become an addict. That way you have the perfect actions and reactions. I hadn’t planned for this. All those steps that I had done kept replaying in my mind as I drove to pick him up. I questioned my skills at following directions for a successful, drug free child. Denial is a part of the process because reality is a kick in the gut. A dream turned into a nightmare. I often think of the words of a young man I know who says his son “will be fine”. Yeah I thought that too. So does every parent of a drug addict. Never ever assume your child will be fine because the reality is dreams can turn into nightmares while you are sleeping.
I am sure that I looked like a deer in the headlights when I finally arrived at the police sub-station. I felt like one. The officer that came out to meet me didn’t appear to take notice of my state. It is a part of their job to assess people but the emotional detachment and judgmental eyes left me feeling convicted before “my trial”. Ironically that would be the attitude I would encounter from many people including members of our family. Guilty until proven innocent for both of us. The bad ones. I had never imagined this fight for my child’s life and I had not perceived that the fight would be on for me too. Everyone had opinion. I wasn’t so powerful that I alone could prevent drug use, although I foolishly believed I could, and I also wasn’t so powerful that I alone was responsible for it occurring either. In actuality EVERYONE WAS IN DENIAL about their role and the reality was NO ONE knew what to do. There is no failing in not knowing but there is failing in not helping to figure it out. There is failing in judging. There is a balancing act in this nightmare and no matter what you know or don’t know, it takes time to understand it. TIME even though time is not your friend in this deal. There may be rules to follow but emotions are the rulers and those emotions changed constantly for me. This was by far the scariest and loneliest moment in my life. My oldest daughter who is Ryan’s only full sister stepped in to help me. Ashlee became my sole supporter in this. We had the same agenda together and that was to save Ryan despite himself and despite others.
On the drive home, my shock turned into what I can only relay as deranged behavior. I screamed. I cried. I pleaded. I threatened. I grieved. I screamed some more. I don’t really remember how my son appeared or how he reacted to my behavior, after all I was driving, but I do remember how I felt. I do remember the PAIN from the kick in the gut. Dealing with such an emotionally charged event was not a part of my mad skills in life. My son, of course, denied the seriousness of the situation and the seriousness of his drug use. DENIAL is the number one word in everyone’s vocabulary especially when there is conflict.
Several days later I had the opportunity to speak to a police officer about my son’s drug use and about the fact that I lacked the knowledge of how to handle this. He advised me to let my son go. I just stared at this man. He then informed me that that is what he had done with his child. He had let his daughter go. I knew in that moment that I never wanted to be so right in life that I would just let my child go. I was going to solve this despite the lack of support or the knowledge of how to do it. I was ready and determined to wage war. I was sure we would be fine. I was sure my son would be fine.
People have agendas. They have judgements. If you are judging then you are not solving or doing the work. You are a part of the problem. If you are being judged then you almost become immobile as you take a defensive position. Both the judgers and the judged are closed off. How can you play a game for your child’s life that includes everyone, known and unknown, that can result in the saving of or the death of that child? Where do you find the handbook for that? How can you deal with the emotion of that? How can you reconfigure when every ounce of you is under assault?
Due to the charges my son was facing, I had to hire a lawyer. I was fortunate to find a two person team. They were the first people to say “I’m sorry this is happening to you”. The first to say that. They advised me to get Ryan into an out-patient treatment program.
We picked a program and went for our intake interview…
When children are born we count their fingers and toes. We breathe a sigh of relief that they are healthy. The dream that started with their creation begins to grow as we watch them discover their world. We smile over their accomplishments. We proudly share them with our family and friends. When they are old enough for school we relish in their achievements and conquests.
We see our children as amazing beings who reflect us. We talk to them. We lead them. We expect of them. We do all the things we have learned in order to develop our children into the dream we believe they should be but what happens if the dream becomes a NIGHTMARE? A living HELL and not the HEAVEN you dreamed of?
What if your child becomes involved with drugs or alcohol despite your best efforts? What if you did all the things that the experts said to do and yet here you are? What if you kept your child involved and you were involved and yet here you are? What if you talked to your child about why he shouldn’t use drugs and yet HERE YOU ARE? What if you never imagined that your child could fall from that heavenly dream and that the both of you would hit the ground with a life destroying thud?
What happens if you have no idea how to deal with this nightmare? What happens if no matter where you turn everyone has an opinion, especially your family and friends? What happens if the only thing that others are willing to give you is their judgment and yet no one actually steps up to do the work? What happens if you are actually at odds with your spouse or family? What happens if there are actually people who sabotage you?
What do you do when you are lumped into the group “Parents of Drug Addicts”, are ostracized for it and yet you didn’t ask to belong to this group? Who understands your pain other than this group? What happens when you have a love hate relationship with this group? How are you going to help yourself? What happens if you feel alone in this nightmare? What if your ability to overcome this will have a direct affect on everyone? Your the one being blamed along with your child? How do you GRIEVE, feel FEARFUL and FIGHT all at the same time? How do you even BREATHE?
This is the story of my life as a parent and a lifetime member of the “Parents of Drug Addicts”. This is the brutality of my dream becoming a nightmare and how I survived falling and now live in HEAVELL with my son. This is my TRUTH about the road that was not on my map along with all the people who helped and harmed me and him along the way. All involved had their own agendas including my son the addict and me. I am a reconfiguring parent that has fought on some of the days and has laid down on other days. I have made mistakes, learned and been unable to deal. I have been broken and found how to stand. I have cried, screamed, bargained, pleaded, loved, laughed, been grateful and accepted my HEAVELL. This is about the work that I have put into myself and shared with my son so that he may stand and we are sharing it with you because ALL ADDICTS were once a dream in their parents mind and none of them, neither addict nor parent, ever planned on their dream becoming a nightmare.
I woke from my dream on December 27, 2005 to the realization that my life was a nightmare and I couldn’t breathe…
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