Addicted Like Me (10 page)

After blowing off that first meeting, Lauren and Ryan did make it to their own meetings during our first month, although they refused to go to coffee after their meetings, or to the social functions that they had promised they would attend. I spoke to the counselors about this. They didn't think it was unusual because Lauren and Ryan were so new to twelve-step. Ryan had only just graduated to twelve-step from recovery. Lauren had only caught the fire for the program after seeing all the kids Ryan had met in the group. Sometimes I took them home after their meeting and went to be with the parents I had met. I didn't really like leaving the kids home alone, because we were still having issues, but the counselors
assured me that I could not watch them constantly. If issues were going to come up, it was best to let them happen, and then we could deal with them together.

I shared the negative reactions from Lauren and Ryan, about the coffee shop and social functions, with the parents in my meetings. “You can't expect miracles overnight,” one man said to me. “Progress is that they are attending two meetings per week with some really cool people. They'll come around.” After listening to my parent group, I brought my anger to them, so that the other parents could help me learn to respond, instead of reacting at Lauren and Ryan for not participating. Gradually, this system paid off. They started to go to coffee after the meetings, but I could sense they were still unsure. Addiction still had them and was still fighting to be the most important thing in their lives.

The first major crack in our new program was with Ryan. He disappeared for an entire twenty-four hours, after which I found him passed out in his bedroom reeking of marijuana and alcohol. Counselors at twelve-step recommended that he go through the outpatient program, which was a forty-five-day treatment, after we found him. I agreed that it would be the best choice, and a counselor from twelve-step came to the house to help me take Ryan in. She went into his bedroom and woke him up. Together they went outside on the patio and talked for about fifteen minutes. She performed a drug intervention right under my own roof, which had never happened before. The first week of outpatient went pretty well for him, but on the weekend he hooked up with a drug buddy. Once again, I found drugs at my house. The first thing I did the following
week was call Ryan's outpatient counselor. He said, “Thank you! We will deal with this.” I was proud of myself because I never mentioned to Ryan I had found his drugs. I worked as a teammate with the counselors, who had promised I could rely on them, and together we were confronting the obstacles we faced.

It was the obstacles with Ryan that led to the discoveries about Lauren. Despite her slow startup with the twelve-step group, she had actually been headed in the opposite direction still and hadn't reached her bottom yet. I came to a pivotal realization about reaching bottom with the program counselors, through Ryan's subsequent slides. I had returned to denial to cope after two weekends in particular with him that had gone very badly. The worst of it was when a policeman found Ryan on a golf course and explained he believed Ryan was under the influence of some type of illegal drug. It was two in the morning, and we all stood on my doorstep looking at Ryan. His eyes were black and dilated. He was supposed to have been out at a “sober” party. I told the whole story to Ryan's counselor, trying to convince him that the policeman may have been wrong about the drugs. The counselor looked at me and said, “If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck, it's a duck. Your son is a drug addict, and all of the evidence points to the fact that he is still actively using.”

The counselor was getting at the fact that for an addict, change does not come until life circumstances force the addiction to hit a bottom. That bottom clearly had not been reached with Ryan, because it was possible for him to return to a safe home after continuing to get busted. I just sighed and closed my eyes after hearing
the news. I knew Ryan's counselor was right. “You're going to make me go there, aren't you?” I asked him. He wanted my help to make Ryan's drug use as uncomfortable as possible. I had been there before, with Lauren, and I knew that this was a tremendously hard place for a mother. I got the recommendation to give Ryan a jar of peanut butter, a loaf of bread, some change to make a phone call, and his counselor's phone number. I was supposed to let the counselor do the rest. He was going tell to Ryan that the only place he was welcome from now on was at the inpatient unit at the hospital run by the twelve-step group.

Ryan didn't agree to enter inpatient. I had the peanut butter, bread, and the pocket change all ready when he got home. “Well,” he said, “you know I don't like this running away stuff, so I'll be living in the back yard.” “Uh-huh,” I said and walked back into the house. I was serious and ready. By that time I had my parent group, a supportive boyfriend, and lots of support from the counselors we were working with. I ran to my room and called one of the parents on my meeting phone list to talk. She told me that she was proud of me and that she would see me at the meeting that night. Thank goodness there was a meeting that day. I sure needed it. When I told the others in my small group that Ryan was living in the back yard, everyone started laughing, and I found myself joining in. Laughing in the middle of a major crisis turned out to feel really good. That was the week I heard the news about Lauren. After he had spent an hour on the phone with his sponsor, Ryan had agreed to go into the hospital. “He just cried so much that I didn't know what to do with him the first couple of days. Then I realized that
he felt bad about himself, so I encouraged him to give himself a chance,” said the counselor who worked with him. Soon after, Ryan called me himself. “Mom,” he started, “I decided that I want to be sober. I am doing really well, but I have a problem. I can't come home because my sister is still using drugs.”

I felt my heart sink when I heard this news, but I knew it was true. I felt so happy for Ryan, but that happiness led directly to a worry about Lauren, because she hadn't hit the bottom that Ryan had hit. No one is ever healed or cured from the illness of addiction, but it does go into remission, and there is ongoing healing through recovery in remission for an addict who has reached the lowest low and knows the terrible feeling of that place. To get Ryan home, I had to deal with Lauren. I decided to meet with the counselors to discuss what to do. I knew in my heart it was going to take more than a twelve-step program for her to choose sobriety. She had a drug dealer boyfriend who was actively using. She spent most of her time with friends that used drugs. She was not going to give this world up easily. Lauren's bottom would need to be extreme.

Lauren had continued to go to the twelve-step group after Ryan entered the hospital. She told everyone that she had decided to be sober. She claimed to have several weeks of sobriety; however, she was still hanging around with her old drug friends. Something inside of me felt uneasy about it all. Just her word that she was sober didn't mean anything anymore. Counselors at the twelve-step center had been discussing Lauren's situation, because it had become obvious by then that she was living a lie. They told me that there were some new possibilities in the program and that they would like
me to come in and talk about these. I told them Bob, his kids, and I had plans to go away that weekend, but I assured the counselors I knew it was important to talk and I would make the time. I didn't think I would be more than an hour. Four hours after Lauren and I showed up to talk to the counselors, we returned home, where Bob was at the house waiting with his daughters, all packed up to go.

Bob understood, because so much had already happened with the counselors and Lauren. She had been asked to go next door when we arrived at the meeting, into the coffee shop where the kids hung out, which meant I was in for major news. Our counselor told me that a ten-bed residential inpatient house was due to open and asked if I would consider putting Lauren in as one of the first patients. I quickly thought about practicalities, like how much the program would cost, because I didn't know if it would be covered by insurance. The counselor told me financial options were available and that the executive director of the residential house would discuss these with me if I decided to give Lauren a try there. After talking to that director, I realized I could do it and that I really needed to at least consider it as a step to offer Lauren toward recovery, rather than the lows she had been sinking to. It took four hours at the meeting because I went to the residential house that day, to check it out. “The person who will be running the administration is out there now,” I was told. If I wanted to, I could sign Lauren up.

I closed my eyes, listening for a reaction from my body, and everything in me told me that placing Lauren in the residential house was the right thing to do. The counselors had been busy
while I was gone. I had said yes to their offer to do a drug intervention with Lauren. While I was on my way thirty miles across town to visit the residential facility, her counselors were confronting her. I was emotional and tearful as I drove but through these emotions continued to experience a sensation of calmness despite how fast everything was moving. When I walked into the residential facility, I felt the power in the moment. It was as if I was standing in the exact right place, at the exact right moment that I needed to have been standing there. I was able to tell the administrator of the residential program about my struggles in the past, and she shared her journey of recovery with me. Both of us talked about Lauren. “She sounds like such a wonderful, strong girl with so many possibilities. We would love to have her here,” she said. Hearing this, I felt a flood of emotion come over me, and I started to cry.

The phone rang while I was at the residential house, and it was the twelve-step center calling to report back about the intervention with Lauren. I was afraid to hear the news. Lauren had agreed to come into treatment under two conditions. She wanted to go on the camping trip with Bob and his kids and me, and she wanted to finish her last two days of school before she was admitted. I asked the administrator of the residential house what I should do. “Take her camping and love her,” she told me. She told me to praise Lauren for making a tough decision and trust her to follow through. “Don't let her see your fear,” she said. “Hit your knees and pray, and trust God to do the rest. Go have fun this weekend. You are doing great.” Lauren didn't think so. When I picked her up after my visit to the residential house, I found her on the curb at the twelve-step
center, sitting with an angry face. She got in the car, closed the door hard, and gave me a hateful look.

“Don't be mad at me,” I said bluntly. “It wasn't my idea.” When I took myself out of the equation, her mouth dropped, and her face changed to a very pensive expression. This was a major shift in her reactions toward me that was a direct result of the concepts I had learned in my parents group. The meetings had taught me that addicts blame those they are closest to for everything going wrong in their lives, which in turn gives them more excuses to get high. I was not responsible for the fact that Lauren had ended up having a drug intervention that day. It was a direct result of her behavior. Arguing with her that the intervention was all her fault would have just made her throw it back in my face, so I didn't even begin that conversation. By pointing out the fact that her behavior had prompted the counselors to recommend the intervention, I diffused the situation. Lauren was forced to face the reality that she was on the hook for her behavior, not me.

Lauren did end up joining Bob, his kids, and me for the camping trip. Her hateful face even turned softer eventually, after building a campfire, pitching a tent, hiking, and horseback riding. She also went to school to finish up the last days of classes she had wanted to attend. But on the final day of class she went to see her boyfriend, Robert, after school, and by three in the morning, when she wasn't home, I knew there was trouble, so I continually called Robert's house. No one answered. Finally, someone picked up the phone. The person held me on the line while checking to see if Lauren was still there. A groggy Lauren came to the phone, slurring
her words. “I'm on my way to pick you up.” I said into the receiver. “Whatever,” she said in a nasty voice.

On the way over to pick her up, I got myself together. If we got in a big argument over her choice, she could use it as an excuse to not go to treatment like she had promised to do if she was able to go camping and get her final two days of school in. I decided that I would use the new tools I learned in my parents group to fetch Lauren without saying a word. I picked her up, and we drove home in silence, just like I planned. When we got home, I told her I loved her and I went to bed, leaving her to sort out her own mess. I took the next day off work, and I heard signs of life in Lauren's bedroom around nine in the morning. She looked pretty hungover when she walked out. She took a shower, did her hair and makeup, and started to pack her things for the residential facility. Without my asking, she had kept her word to go into treatment.

At exactly one in the afternoon, Lauren's counselor pulled into the driveway to pick her up and take her to the residential facility. I hugged Lauren and told her I loved her and that I would see her at the meetings and functions at twelve-step. The car drove away from me, and I can remember what I felt like when I realized she was gone. I was so relieved as the car disappeared, even though I was crying. I went inside and collapsed on the couch. The stress I had been experiencing started to dissipate. I was thankful that both of my children had ended up safe and in good hands. The first few days after, things around my house were so quiet that it was bizarre for me. I got myself a sponsor, who was a parent in the group I had been attending. I told her I felt confused and fearful and couldn't
understand why. She told me that I was experiencing normal feelings and recommended I be good to myself, take advantage of this time, and have some fun. The counselors agreed when I talked to them. They encouraged me to let them worry about my children and to let myself finally have a life.