Addicted Like Me Read online

  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 wen
t 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.

  I began to think in capital letters: WOW. I had actually received permission to be happy and let go of worrying and the fear of being angry. I decided it might not be such a bad idea to try that out, and I gave myself permission to let go. I made plans with Bob and other friends during this time. I went shopping, to the movies, and for hikes, and everything was wonderful. Updates came about Lauren’s progress. “She is opening up a little, but she has a long way to go,” I heard. It wasn’t quite the miracle turnaround I had hoped for, but it was only the first week. Two days later I got the news that we did have a long way to go, indeed. Her counselor confessed Lauren had run away. During group she was confronted on her sobriety date, because other kids in the group felt she was being dishonest. Lauren got angry and ran out the door and across the street to the convenience store, where she was making phone calls when the executive director of the residential house confronted her. I couldn’t imagine this story was going to be the start of another failure for us. No. It would have been too painful. “She decided to come back, but she is really upset,” her counselor said. “Things are very shaky with her right now. We will keep you updated.” So much for my fun and happy times, I thought to myself.

  Fear washed over me when this occurred with Lauren. I had been getting way too comfortable. I began to get anxious again about what was going to happen next, yet there was nothing I could do about it. The day after Lauren ran away the first time, I received a second call from the residential facility. “I am sorry to tell you that Lauren ran away again today, and we just let her go this time. We’ll be contacting you to let you know about your refund amount.” I hurried to say, “Wait! You mean you’re not going to try to talk her into coming back?” The voice at the other end of the line said no. Where the bottom will be really is the addict’s own choice. I was told that for Lauren to return again, it would have to be her decision. This devastated me. I feared she would never make the choice to return, and if I couldn’t force her to go back, I didn’t know what options were left for us. My heart raced, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I closed the door to my office, and I got down on my knees to find my center, begging, “Please . . . Lauren needs the courage to go back, and if not, help me to accept this choice and give me strength.”

  I made a call to my sponsor at that point, to get the support I needed over the phone. I spent the afternoon working, praying, and thinking. I could no longer support Lauren in her decisions if she stayed away from treatment, and I readied myself to tell her that she was no longer welcome in my home. I was really worried and very sad. All I did that day was get by. Just before I left work for the day, my phone rang. It was Lauren. “Hi, Mom, I’m at home,” she said. “I left the program today, but don’t worry, I decided to go back.” My heart felt a surge of hope. I considered whether Lauren’s choice to leave the residential house, as hard as it had been for me, actually might have been a good thing. Instead of being forced into treatment, Lauren had made the decision to choose recovery for herself. I learned that she had called the counseling office, and they had asked her to phone me and tell me to bring Lauren to the coffee shop that night. “Okay,” I told her when I heard the plan. “I will be home in a while.”

  No sooner had I hung up than the phone rang again. Her counselor had called me, to confirm that Lauren wanted to come back and that her group planned to meet Lauren at the coffee shop. However, the counselor added, “We are not just going to take her back. She is going to have to make some commitments to the group about sobriety and honesty. If she is not willing to do that, then she will not be welcome. This is not going to be an easy night for her.” I thanked her for this information and finalized the plan to bring Lauren to the twelve-step center at the agreed-upon time. Bob and I went together to drop her off. We waited at the coffee shop while the group took Lauren into the therapy room to talk. When she came out, she looked pale and shook-up. “I’m going back with them,” she said. I told her I loved her, and Bob and I left. A week later I received an update call, confirming that Lauren was doing incredibly well. I listened for a sign of trouble in her counselor’s voice, but there wasn’t that sound. “She has done a complete turnaround. She is telling her story and getting honest.”

  I couldn’t believe what I had heard. I started to cry at the news of each additional detail. “Not only has she decided to be sober, she has also decided to give up all of her drug friends and is writing a letter to her boyfriend to break up with him. This was her idea and decision. We didn’t even bring it up. We are very excited for her.” So many emotions took me over as I listened. I felt gratitude, relief, joy, and elation. I could barely speak. I thanked the counselor and got off the phone. I saw Lauren that night at the coffee shop, after our meetings, and I was amazed. I noticed she was smiling and hugging people. You couldn’t miss her across the room. She looked happy, and her face was glowing. When she saw me she yelled, “Mom!” I knew I had my daughter back. It was time for us to start up from the bottom. When she reached me, Lauren hugged me, told me that she loved me, and said she wanted to introduce me to some of her new friends. We held each other that night and cried together. I told her I loved her. That night, I was very proud to be her mom.

  CHAPTER 6

  LIFE WITH EARLY SOBRIETY

  AFTER LAUREN REENTERED the residential house, our lives did not immediately turn around. Addiction causes a ripple effect for everyone who is involved. Problems that Lauren created early on began to unfold on us before they vanished on our shore of recovery. The coast was clear at least for Ryan to come home. I was happy and relieved to be able to have him back. He stayed busy at the twelve-step center with meetings, hanging out at the coffee shop, and running around town having fun with kids from the teen group. I actually didn’t see him very often, and for the first time that felt okay.

>   The twelve-step program provided a lot of structure for the kids. Sunday was the only day during the week when there wasn’t something major going on with the group. The counselors encouraged me to use Sunday as our family day, and I did so by always making an effort to do something fun with Lauren and Ryan. Sometimes their new friends would come along. It seemed there was always someone coming to the house for something, to pick up one of the kids or drop one off. I even had a stocked shelf in the refrigerator and a cupboard in the kitchen with food and snacks because I would often come home from work and find a group of young people at our home watching television, playing cards, or just sitting around talking. They were all so enthusiastic. It was contagious, and I loved being around them. The teens called me Mom. These kids were respectful and considerate and treated all the parents in our group the same way they treated me. There was rarely an occasion when the kids from twelve-step weren’t willing to help out or clean up after themselves.

  Bob and I attended parent meetings together during this time, continuing to show up for coffee afterward. I loved being in the atmosphere of the twelve-step coffee shop, because of the positive way kids interacted with adults. That amazing experience I had encountered on the first night I was exposed to this group became my daily reality after Lauren went back to inpatient and Ryan was back with us. This was such a drastic contrast to the way our lives had been previous to this program. Life seemed almost surreal. I saw Lauren on the nights we went to the coffee shop. Every time I saw her, it seemed that she had become happier and more content with the decision she had made to be sober. I still sometimes felt panicky, fearing that something bad was going to happen. It felt like I was a survivor of trauma. Everything was suddenly better by this point, but I still had subconscious feelings of panic that sobriety for my kids was all going to end up being just a dream. I didn’t want to wake back up to the nightmare of our legacy of addiction.