SUBDURAL FLOW

2009-12-08T20:15:00.000-05:00

Andrew was picked up, and driven to his parole officer. She is good. She put him in a job's program, substance abuse and mental health programs. He is to start those immediately.

He was driven to the half way house. Of the two houses, he drew the better one. He ate chili.

Someone gave him shoes, someone gave him a pair of pants, he was lent a coat.

He can spend the coming week end at our house.

Thank you each and every one for your support. Believe me when I say that today I FELT the energy of your prayers.

For the parents--You know who you are

2009-12-07T12:58:00.004-05:00

Through the blog, I've met a recovering heroin addict. He has over two years clean, and he did it by himself in what is arguably one city's most drug infested neighborhood. Parents, a note of caution--he didn't get clean till his 40's, and after many incarcerations. His last stint was San Quentin. When he walked out of there in 2007, he had decided it was truly his LAST time.

I appreciate him emailing me this:

"When I was released from prison, I could have leaned on my parents and siblings for some help. Not big help, like loads of money, but smaller things. Like money for a renewed drivers license and a phone and care packages. I declined because I knew I could get things but it would just take time and I had to have some patience. All of my necessities were met by the program/halfway house. Food, shelter, toiletries. I had to use all of my game that I had been using in a negative way into the positive. That meant using all of the energy I used in getting high into staying clean and getting a job. Slowly but surely everything fell into place, as long as I did my best. Most importantly was my honesty with everyone and everything I dealt with. I listened to that little voice that always warned me this time.

I really do hope Andrew can do it. The hardest thing will be that first day when he is released. After going through that hell on earth life of being locked up I have gone through so many times, what springs to mind immediately upon entering a world where no one is guarding you and everything feels uncomfortable and you go through a sensory overload and you really want to reward yourself for getting through such a horrible ordeal, to numb the excitability and calm the butterflies in your stomach. Then you go against everything you have learned about this disease and do "just one". That was always it for me. Once I did that "one" it started the druggy lifestyle over again. I couldn't stop.

I know you want Andrew to do well, but the odds are way against him. I think it's only 12% that stay clean. But that doesn't mean he can't do it. It's his responsibility now. He has probably learned as much as a counselor about this disease. It is totally up to him to stay clean. He has no excuses.

I am so glad you found the people at Al Anon to help you understand that whatever happens to him is not your doing. Good or bad.All you can do is be supportive and keep giving him love. If he does wind up on the wrong path it has nothing to do with you. It was always my selfishness and me who wouldn't think for a second about how I was hurting anyone when I put that needle in my arm. All I wanted was instant gratification. Sure, I would feel bad later, but believe me, there was not a big tug of war going on in my brain when I was in that zone. The decision to use always happened in an instant. It was like no, I am not going to use when I get out. Everyday I would say that to myself. Then in an instant I would decide to use and it was autopilot from there. There was no way I would stop myself once I made that decision. And there are a whole lot of steps to take in order for a heroin addict to get high. It takes about a half hour, if I am 10 minutes away from a connection. You have to call someone or go to that part of town. You have to walk around and see who is selling. You have to obtain the necessary paraphernalia. You have to find a place where you can do it without any hassle.

So during all of that time you would think I would be fighting myself on whether I should go through with it. Hell no. I never gave it a second thought. This disease is a MONSTER! It wants to kill me. And it made me not care about anyone else even though I had love for so many people.

You have done a great deal for him in the past which may have actually made it easier for him to go on his run. If he throws any of that "you don't care about me" crap because you won't do what he wants you to do, just know that you are really showing so much love and caring by not enabling him to destroy his life. If he wants to take that route, you now know not to go along for that ride."

10th Anniversary

2009-12-06T17:21:00.002-05:00

This morning was the 10th anniversary of my home AlAnon group. This is the group that showed me how it works.

We usually have 25 to 30 people on Sunday mornings. Today we had 137 for our holiday pot luck, and open speaker meeting with Alateen, AlAnon, and AA participation. It was fun to socialize, and then listen to the 3 excellent speakers from each fellowship.

My group has several Alateen sponsors. Every week, when the basket is passed, another container goes around for Alateen. That container is for sending Alateens to camp every summer, all expenses paid. My home group alone sends 4 or 5 kids every year, one dollar at a time. The Alateen's basket had $387 at the end of today's meeting. That will send 2 more kids to camp next summer.

I liked the Alateen speaker best. The boy was 16 and 6' and 200". He was BIG. His father is an alcoholic, and an older brother is a drug addict and an alcoholic. Since he was eight years old, he had been angry. He provoked fights, and beat up on people. He started drinking and smoking pot at 12 years old. In the program, he had found a way to deal with his anger and substance abuse.

I got teary at the end when he said,

"If not for the support from my friends and sponsors in this program, I would be sitting in the cell next to my brother right now."

Help Yourself to a Blog Award

2009-12-05T10:43:00.006-05:00

Awards gone wild! This happens every so often, a flurry of awards among much the same group of bloggers. It's fun, it's flattering, people who don't know how to link have to learn...LOL. But I say "Let It End With Me."

I'll do a twist on the Honest Scrap award by listing my brushes with fame. ALL of you can grab "Lou's Famously Honest Scrap Award" and put it on your blog. Here it is:

Now, the famous people I have come kinda, sorta near.

1) I touched Dan Pastorini's naked shoulder in 1979 when he was a Houston Oiler. He was buff.

2) I was helping my mom clean rooms one summer in 1967 at the Holiday Inn in Salina, Kansas when Herman's Hermits came to town. I took a bunch of stuff from Peter Noone's room when we cleaned it, but I don't know what happened to it.

3) I passed world famous heart surgeon, Dr Michael DeBakey, twice in the hall in 1980.

4) I shook Jared "Subway Diet" Fogle's hand in 2002.

5) I had breakfast with then Michigan governor John Engler at a reelection campaign stop. I was chosen because they wanted some regular constituents there. The french toast was scrumptious!

6) My parents made me walk up to the stage and get Robert Preston's autograph when we went to see "The Music Man" in Kansas City (circa 1963?). I still have it.

7) I saw Jimi Hendrick's last concert in Berlin, Germany on September 4, 1970. He was so stoned he could not stand up or play. People started booing, and halfway through he stumbled off stage without a word. I remember thinking, why didn't his handlers get him offstage instead of letting him humiliate himself in this awful way. The rest of his tour was canceled, and he died on September 18, 1970.

8) I saw Dennis Rodman in Newport Beach in 2004, when I visited Andrew in rehab. Dennis is huge (as in imposing).

8) Recently, I saw Kid Rock at a bar. He and the girls he brought looked like white trash. C'mon Kid, wash your hair!

What famous brush with celebrity have you had?

Counter Gone Awry

2009-12-04T05:27:00.005-05:00

Holy smokes, the counter says Saturday is Andrew's release date. Lock up your daughters!

I believe Andrew is being released Monday or Tuesday. Saturday was the original day, but due to budget cuts, prisoners are not processed on week ends.

I feel vulnerable, like too many people are going to see him rise or fall. I will just keep counting on the unanimous support I have gotten. I really appreciate all who take time to comment.

I spoke with Andrew's grandmother. She truly trys hard to understand, but she has always lived far away. She's never witnessed the heartbreak, and there are many gruesome details I never told her. She told me with complete sincerity to tell him not to do drugs anymore.

Prayer for the Future

When I recall that in the past Your promises have stood
Through each perplexing circumstance and every changing mood
I rest content that all things work together for my good
Whatever then the future brings of good, or seeming ill
I ask for strength to follow You and grace to trust You still

Line Between Hope and Hopeless

2009-12-02T16:42:00.004-05:00

Syd had a post on hope that garnered interesting comments; most everyone is squarely on the side of hope. I believe there is always hope, but I see people in the hospital who are pushing it to near death.

Hope is the emotional flashlight that carries the loved one of an alcoholic or addict through the rough times. I need to love and hope. The trick has been to do that with detachment and acceptance. It is an ongoing balancing act.

I'm reposting what alcoholism looks like in the intensive care unit (from January, 09)

Dear Patient,

Your husband wanted to take a picture of your room today. What will the photo show? You are lying in a hospital bed, with your wrists tied down. Pillows are stuffed under your back because I turn you side to side all night. There is a blue tube as thick as my middle finger down your throat. It is connected to a machine, 4 feet tall, that breathes for you. From those tubes are two very fat tubes, a white one and a blue one. For air going in and air coming out. Also, a thin wire attaches to the knot at the end of your endotracheal tube and goes to the monitor, so that I can watch numbers that are relevant to keeping your body's pH balance stable.

You have five electrodes attached to your chest, which is attached then to a tv screen over your bed. It shows me your heart rate and rhythm. Another cord goes to the blood pressure cuff on your arm.

You have a thin tube down your nose. This tube goes into your intestine, and comes up and out and is connected to a small pump, which is connected to large bags that are giving you amino acids and sugars. The box tells me that it has milk proteins, sunflower oil, medium chain triglycerides, cellulose gel (insert 34 other chemical substances), and corn syrup and vanilla flavoring. It smells like soymilk with fake vanilla sweeter.

There is a much larger tube going down your throat and into your stomach (you have two tubes in your mouth). This one is suctioning out the acid. Green crap is coming out intermittently.You have a foley catheter in your bladder.

There are two photographs here of the same thing because you need all six loaded with different medications, programmed differently by med, by how that med is measured (mcg/kg/min and ml/hr and units/hr, etc).You have an iv line with what we call a "chicken foot" on it. That means we don't have enough iv ports for all the meds you need. I am pumping phosphate, magnesium, heparin (a blood thinner), and an ungodly amount of sedation and pain medication.

You also have a gigantic 2-tube catheter going into your jugular. EACH of the two is almost the diameter of my pen. One of those tubes is slurping all your blood into it and pulling it into a dialysis machine larger than my dishwasher. This is scrubbing your blood with acid and base baths, respectively. The waste is going through several pipes thick as my big toe (all of them), and dumping it through that huge port in the wall. God only knows where it goes there. This dialysis machine requires that I count every milliliter of fluid I am pumping into you, and every milliliter that I take out to try and meet the goal of fluid we're trying to take out. Every hour on the dot I flush this machine with saline so that you don't throw a blood clot. You require constant 1 to 1 care of an ACLS-certified specialty trained registered nurse 24 hours a day. And I do mean every moment of the day. There are exactly three nurses on this floor who can relieve me when I need to go to the bathroom. I eat here, at my computer on wheels.

These are your clinical needs. You may be independently wealthy, I don't know. ICU nurses don't come cheap. Let's not mention the drugs you're receiving. Drugs, narcotics, sedatives I am dumping into your veins like they're on sale. Or even the bed on this unit. Or the three MD groups following your case.

Every four hours, I draw blood from you (from one of the several tubes), send it to the lab, and based on the results, adjust your medications. I constantly evaluate your heart rhythm and blood pressure, which has a habit of tanking. I keep your mechanical kidney working properly, and I sit here at your bedside because if those fat tubes disconnect for any reason, you can exsanguinate in a matter of 5 seconds unless someone is here to stop it.

Tonight, I plan to give you a bath. Your hair's in a braid, and I will try to attend to that, too. I can't lower your head to wash your hair or you'll aspirate the tube feeding and potentially pop a lung. But we'll see how creative I can get with the hair washing. You outweigh me by 75 lbs. And as you went into respiratory failure, you were fighting the nurses and no less than seven RNs (three of them men) had to hold you down so that we could maintain an airway for you. You kept trying to yank everything out. So sorry, the restraints are staying.

A week ago you came to the Emergency Room complaining of a stomach ache, but you have a disease caused by alcohol. It will take months for you to get over this disease. It will be painful. I have never seen a patient with this disease leave the hospital without an Oxycontin addiction. Your husband thought maybe he should take a picture to get you to stop drinking, or at least 'cut down'.

No, sir. There is stop and there is off the wagon, period. She cannot ever drink anything again. "But sometimes she only drinks beer." Beer is alcohol. Beer does this.

Patient, since I can't take an actual picture of you, I painted you a word picture. Beer did this to you. Beer killed you, except some doctors and nurses brought you back.

Your nurse, XXX

(Pics are not real patient or nurse).

Just Perfect

2009-11-30T05:36:00.003-05:00

When I start putting puppy pictures on here, I'm obviously content.

Thanksgiving my husband and I ate salmon, and watched "Gone With the Wind." We can do what we want, when we want. It took a few years to settle into the empty nest, but now we are in the next phase of life.

I had to work on Friday, but it was a slow, easy day with everyone in a good mood. My co workers brought in leftovers. It was fun to fool around and nosh at work; most days are stressful and hurried.

I did a cathartic 4th step (made a fearless and searching moral inventory of ourselves) with my new sponsor. I really trust this lady, and I was more honest than the first time around. When I left the coffee shop, I was floating with the lightness of having dumped some real useless shit.

At my AlAnon meeting, I sat at a table where a lady remembered calling her parents and telling them their granddaughter's drinking and drugging had reached a crisis. They were shocked and displeased, and complained that this would ruin an upcoming family event. We talked about how we have no control over others. Several members shared that they have found the most support from people outside their own families.

The meeting clarified feelings I had been having all week...that much of my sadness comes from wanting to have an ideal, perfect family. A family I never had in my youth, but planned on creating (forcing?) in my adult home. Graciously accepting the reality of things has given me back the energy to focus on a more meaningful life.

I'm rested, in heart and mind, and ready to do my best in my tiny sliver of the universe.

Love Story

2009-11-29T15:43:00.008-05:00

One of the many friends I've made by way of the blog is a recovered heroin addict. He has over two years clean under the most difficult circumstances. He offered me his friendship and understanding. I feel I've known him all my life.

Awhile back, he met a girl through my blog. He left a comment, she saw it, went to his blog, they found they lived close, and the rest is history. He is in love. The first time he has experienced that emotion without drugs or alcohol.

This is for the two of you from your Motown Mom.

I know there are many cool stories like this out in blogland.

Saturday Again!

2009-11-28T10:59:00.003-05:00

Cuz you are wondering...

I don't know today if I could really make the call to put Andrew back in jail.

Andrew knows about this blog. I print it out every couple months and send it to him (along with comments).

You parents of adult addicts know about HIPPA (the health insurance accountability and portability act). It covers everyone's privacy in any medical setting. It means we can't call hospitals and doctors anymore and demand to know what our kid was doing there. Hospitals are very serious about this. There have been many changes at my workplace to comply with this federal mandate.

Here is a true, cautionary tale. The emergency room clerk handles the chart of everyone who comes through. Our clerk noticed that her girlfriend's boyfriend was in the house. Later she accessed the record, saw he was treated for an STD. She called her girlfriend and told her. The girlfriend confronted the boyfriend. The boyfriend called the hospital, and threatened to sue over the HIPPA violation.

The clerk was called into the supervisors office and fired. Security escorted her out. She had 21 years of employment at the hospital.

I used to access Andrew's records on the hospital computer. Just because I could. Now a program tracks every time a patient's record is viewed. The program sends an alert if the viewer is in a department that doesn't need to see the chart.

Once again we parents have been forced to mind our own business with adult children!

Plain Speaking

2009-11-26T17:05:00.007-05:00

I had a common enabling behavior called wishy washy. I said:

"I wish you wouldn't use my computer all night and sleep all day."

"I don't like you taking 20's out my purse."

"When you disappear with my car for three days it really hurts me."

I've learned in AlAnon that it's not a boundary until you state it unequivocally. I'm been practicing for a year, and it works.

We're going to pick Andrew up at the half way house, and bring him home for Christmas (God willing).

Today our conversation goes like this:

"You cannot drink or use drugs in our house. If I suspect you are doing either, I will call the police and have you picked up for violating parole."

Andrew said:

"I know. If I drink a beer I'll want a klonopin. If I take a klonopin, I'll do heroin. If I do heroin, I'm going to prison."

Well butter my butt, and call me a biscuit!

Addendum

2009-11-24T21:23:00.010-05:00

It's not very often I feel the need to explain myself here. Maybe this is for me.

I saw Andrew two weeks ago, his father saw him last Sunday. Unlike the movies, where prisoners and visitors sit on either side of a thick, glass window, we sit in a big room. We are allowed to hug, kiss, hold hands, and in Andrew's case, eat as much as possible in the shortest amount of time. I have seen him twice a month, funded his account, and sent him $500 in books the last 16 months. In between, we talk on the phone. He is our very loved son; I'm certain he knows that.

I've made a decision not to pick up job applications, fill them out, and drop them off for him. Or to buy him another cell phone. Or call in a favor and get him another job. Or make work for him at our house and pay him. I won't buy him another car, pay more fines, or hire a lawyer to get his license back. I won't drive him to parole, court, drug tests, doctors, or the myriad other places he needs to go.

See, I've done that and more. I've flown around the country to attend rehab graduations, given up countless weekends, had our family dynamics analyzed ad nauseum , spent many vacation days sitting in courtrooms, had cars wrecked, stolen, and driven into the ground. I've bought jeans, expensive sneakers, coats, and socks. I feel like I've bought a million socks, and I don't know where they are. Andrew doesn't know where they are either, but unlike me, he doesn't care.

I've pretended that someone can come home from rehab, jail, boot camp, half way houses, prison, and grandma's house and be all better.

I'm no expert on addiction, enabling, tough love, or AlAnon. I'm a mom who knows what doesn't work at our house, because I've been doing what doesn't work for 10 years. Might as well try something new. For me that is to stop being the wall between Andrew and the whole world. I am powerless over his decisions.

And the first decision he will have to make is to take the cab to the half way house, or to ask the driver to drop him off downtown.

Preparations

2009-11-23T19:30:00.008-05:00

I packed 3 boxes of clothes, underwear, socks, shoes, and a winter coat for Andrew. He has people pulling for him, and they have given me steady donations of clothes over the last 16 months. Some items he left behind at our house, some I retrieved from rehabs and police stations. He has plenty to wear.

As I sorted, I put the good stuff aside. T shirts that still have the tags on them; he can get those for Christmas. Or his birthday in January. He will have to earn the good stuff.

I didn't send for another birth certificate. I have filled out the paperwork and paid for five birth certificates, all lost. He doesn't have a driver's license, and I could not imagine being without any identification. In reality, there is a sizable street culture without ID's, and they don't think it's a problem at all.

I smiled to myself thinking of someone finding those birth certificates and stealing Andrew's identity. Oh, what a nightmare they would have created for themselves!

Andrew's out date is a Saturday, but prisoners are not processed on Saturdays. It will be either the following Monday or Tuesday, depending on some bureaucratic what not that I didn't understand. Since neither of us will take off work to pick him up and take him to the half way house, the state is transporting him the 60 miles by---TAXI CAB.

There are so many stories I could tell. About social services, the prison system, parole. Let me just break it to you gently. The "system" is broken.

Week End Before Thanksgiving

2009-11-21T06:51:00.010-05:00

I was looking for an internet pic for this post, but decided to use one from my trip to D.C. in April. It was a beautiful spring day in our nation's capital.

Today is warm, but overcast, in Michigan. I can run outside this morning, breathe in the damp leaves.

Andrew's dad is going to visit him one more time. He wants to "talk about the future." God bless him. At this point in life he had envisioned fishing trips, both local and exotic, with his son. He stopped counting how many fly rods he has bought for Andrew, but yet he keeps a few in the basement. His way is different than mine, but he has also let go, and let God.

I'm working a 4th step with a new sponsor. (4th step--made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.) My old sponsor's program was too AA, not enough AlAnon. It wasn't working out, and we parted friends. My new sponsor gave me a choice of work books to use. I picked the one that said:

How to Do a 4th Step--1) buy a pen and paper
2) start writing

Tonight, my girlfriend has a 60th birthday party. That sounds weird! She recently returned from a fancy cooking school in Sedona, where she learned how to make prickly pear margaritas. Apparently one uses real cactus. I'll drink one to be polite.

The 2020 AA convention is in Detroit. WHAT?? That was all the committee could come up with! Many of us will be in our 60's. More weird! I have two guest rooms, in case anyone wants to start sucking up now.

Today I'm going to practice smiling with my eyes!

It Won't Go Away

2009-11-20T14:50:00.002-05:00

Being a group representative for my AlAnon group is very easy. I go to one district meeting a month, and two assemblies a year. As I've settled into the role, I know how much information my group wants me to pass on. I give a two or three minute summary of local, state, and world organization items at each weekly meeting.

Now I've volunteered to be the public outreach person for our district. This is a position that basically I can do a little or a lot with. So far, I have gotten suggestions to place flyers in doctor's offices and rehab facilities. The fliers cost 10 cents each, so I want to put them where they can have the most impact. I also volunteer to talk at family night at several rehabs.

I've tried several times to set up talks for parents at the middle and high schools, but have gotten shot down quickly. The school district both my kids attended is large, affluent, and concerned about ratings. Like most school districts, it has a huge drug and alcohol problem. There are programs within the schools (not pro active enough, in my opinion), but no place for parents to hear the experience of another parent. My feeling is schools would rather hide the drug/alcohol problem, than have their ratings suffer.

I was disappointed how unreceptive they were. I'm willing to give the school district the benefit of the doubt about the ratings. Can anyone think of another reason they don't want parents talking about drug/alcohol use?

Yearning Heart

2009-11-17T20:13:00.049-05:00

This week end I just needed to put up the Christmas tree. We have a little, corny, fiber optic tree since we are not always home at Christmas anymore. I still decorate it with 25 years worth of memories. Andrew made the bell in one of his preschools. The date puts him at barely three years old; obviously the teacher made the bell. I cannot see Andrew doing such a neat job even today.

I decorated the tree and put up all my Christmas stuff because try as I might not to have expectations, I want this Christmas. I want to see his face, and exclaim over the ornaments together.

My husband watched, but didn't say anything. To use one of Andrew's sayings, "he knows what time it is."

It's Christmas time, trusting God big time kinda time, taking a seat and letting everybody make their own decisions time.

I asked Andrew's dad to put the lights up around the fireplace. He grumbled, said it was too early, he would do it next week.

I guess he really wants this Christmas.

The Old Days

2009-11-16T04:00:00.013-05:00

For over 23 years I've worked at a Catholic hospital. They hired me first, so there I am.

As part of my employee orientation, I had to sit through a four hour slide show/lecture on the history of the Daughters of Charity (the order that founded the hospital). Many of the new employees in the warm, dark auditorium slept through it, myself included.

A Catholic hospital is a regular hospital, but with a chapel, a crucifix in every patient's room, and nuns.

When I started there in 1986, there were nuns all over the place. They were in the cafeteria, the halls, the pre-op area in case someone wanted to talk before surgery, and always several in the family waiting room. There were priests too, but the nuns did the day in, day out hand holding. They never forced themselves on anyone, always inquiring first if they were welcome.

When one's chest is about to be sawed open, and one's heart manipulated by the large hands of a brusque surgeon, wandering nuns become popular, regardless of previously held religious beliefs.

After a time, I stopped thinking of the nuns as a strange aberration of womanhood, and took pride that we had something special, a mission, at my hospital.

The years passed and I saw fewer nuns, and more administrators. The hospital system merged five times. The CEO's are male business majors, not the stern, "I know what you have done" nuns who ran the show when I started. We are owned by a Catholic health system that doesn't require new employees to watch slide shows of their history. I have not seen a nun in 12 years.

Except for the one who always says a few words at groundbreakings and the opening of new wings.

Now that the nuns are gone, I miss them. Or I miss what they represented; a shared goal, values, the pure joy of service.

*sheesh* Now I'm starting to blog about the good old days. I might have to rename the blog "Subdural Nostalgia."

Sunday Meeting

2009-11-15T08:05:00.003-05:00

Fear and guilt drove my actions in the first five years of Andrew's Addiction. I now know this is normal, and it takes an average of seven years to start understanding the family role in the addict or alcoholic's progression.

In working the 12 steps of AlAnon with a sponsor, I've been able to let go of a lot of guilt. But not all, and I never will. The guilt I keep is part of the life lessons learned. I don't want to sweep all the missteps of the past away, absolve everyone by saying "I did the best I could."

As a parent that is not real to me. What attending meetings, daily reading and meditation, and calling my sponsor do for me is put the past in perspective. I get strength and faith that I'm making better decisions today and for the future. I believe in my intuition.

AlAnon is not a program that tells me to feel good all the time.

It's a program that tells me feeling is good.

Friday

2009-11-13T07:55:00.001-05:00

If not for a mandatory staff meeting this morning, I would have the day off. What a cruel twist of fate to have a mandatory staff meeting on one's day off.

I saw one of Andrew's old girlfriends yesterday. She looked wasted. She looked like she numbs herself to oblivion.

She is stripping in a club in Detroit. She works two nights a week and makes enough to numb herself to oblivion the other five nights. She is 25, and I remember her when she was 12.

I ducked around a corner so I wouldn't have to talk to her. Why? I regret not giving her a hug.

Andrew will be sent to a state contracted half way house in the county he was sentenced in. Those are the rules. He will be assigned one of the two places the state has not closed. One is bad, the other is better. A couple years ago I would have called where he goes a 50/50 chance. Today I call it God's plan.

After the staff meeting, my errands can wait. I'm going to pray on why I treated the girl that way. I've been caught up in analyzing my own "important" life. It only takes 24 hours to become selfish and forget we are all in this together.

Intervention

2009-11-11T20:59:00.004-05:00

I'm reading a book called "Love First: A Family's Guide to Intervention" (Jeff and Debra Jay). It's written by a team of professional interventionists, so they are very keen on this method. We never used an intervention; the times we offered paid rehabs, Andrew went willingly.

I know interventions are expensive, and don't always work. An intervention may get someone into treatment, but that doesn't mean they will stay there.

The book does a credible job of explaining family dynamics. I liked an explanation called soft and hard enabling.

In the beginning, there is love plus denial which equals soft enabling. This is when we acknowledge a problem, but blame it on bad luck, low self esteem, immaturity, stress, or rebelliousness. We don't call it alcoholism or drug addiction, as that would be admitting the unacceptable. The family begins to help the alcoholic out of scrapes and messes, but still believes the problem will be outgrown/overcome.

Reality plus fear equals desperate enabling. Eventually a crisis brings us face to face with the truth; it is addiction after all. Now the family goes into overdrive to stop the inevitable consequences--financial ruin, incarceration, possible death. As addiction intensifies, we adjust and readjust our bottom line. Our personal "last straw" keeps bending, but not breaking, out of a desperate need to save the addict from himself.

The book suggests asking yourself "am I doing things today that five years ago I said I'd never do" to become aware of how you have adapted to the alcoholic's behavior.

An Invention Whose Time Has Come

2009-11-10T05:15:00.002-05:00

Is there a drug addict in your home without a job raiding the refrigerator while you're at work? Perhaps feeding a motley assortment of friends??

An alcoholic who staggers in late, and eats the Cadbury creme egg you've been saving?

Or the pesky people in the house who think YOUR food is OUR food.

Here is the perfect solution!

I'm taking mine to work so my co workers can't swipe my diet Coke.

Find it here

AA, Alcohol, and Drugs

2009-11-07T20:18:00.001-05:00

Mary Christine has an excellent link to an article by Bill W. about who should seek help in AA . It's under her link "problems other than alcohol."

I found this topic confusing when I was learning about 12 step programs. Well, a lot of topics were confusing, then throw the whole "are you sick enough to be here" into the mix.

Andrew switched addictions often. He went off opiates, meth, subox, etc. for almost a year when he decided he would drink instead. He was a drunk, another real alcoholic; loud and angry. He would go looking for fights, when he didn't pass out first. More than any other substance, alcohol changes him into someone I don't know, and really don't like. During that time I realized he would not be able to "substitute." It was all poison to him.

Here is Bill W's clear, compassionate explanation:

Suppose, though, that we are approached by a drug addict who nevertheless has a genuine alcoholic history. There was a time when such a person would have been rejected. Many early A.A.'s had the almost comical notion that they were pure alcoholics--guzzlers only, no other serious problems at all. When alcoholic ex-cons and drug addicts first showed up, there was much pious indignation. "What will people think?" chanted the pure alcoholics. Happily, this foolishness has long since evaporated.

I Heart My Son In Law

2009-11-05T20:47:00.003-05:00

OK, I've been depressing myself lately. Today is good news.

This is my son in law. He graduates next month with his bachelors in nursing. We are going to Lexington, Kentucky for his graduation. He has worked full time for the last three years and gone to school. I'm so proud of him, and best of all

he's crazy about my daughter!

I've been to Lexington before, and I love it.....

The University of Kentucky campus is beautiful, and last time I actually met Col Sanders. (Just kidding, of course, the real Col. Sanders is RIP)

And I'll get to spend time with Lucy (left) and Homer (right). They are my daughter and son in law's two Boston Terriers, and I have so much fun with them.

This is Homer when they first brought him home 8 years ago. Awwww....

Have a restful week end everyone.

A Bad Moon

2009-11-03T21:00:00.002-05:00

There is sadness around the blogs. Athena's daughter most likely going to prison, and she is pregnant. Annette's family being dragged onto the front page of the paper. Pammie dealing with saying good bye to her mom. Even Syd, who usually is the voice of calm and reason, sounds wistful and pensive.

I've had a few hard days also. After telling Andrew for 18 months, he is not coming home, he has started calling repeatedly. Sometimes pleading, other times angry, wanting to come home instead of the half way house. Of course, we have let him come home every time before. This time we are trying something different- making him take responsibility for his life. The latest call he told me he cannot stay clean unless he comes home. It makes me sad for him, his desperation when he can't get what he wants.

But it doesn't make me anxious or fearful or physically sick to my stomach as it used to. I feel good about how much acceptance I have about the situation. I called my sponsor, and she told me what I already knew. I got strength hearing it from someone outside the family. Andrew's dad and I talked about it with no arguments, no blaming, no ambivalence. Andrew can't play us against each other anymore.

"If you understand, things are just as they are; if you do not understand, things are just as they are."
Zen proverb.

A Checklist

2009-11-01T20:25:00.005-05:00

A friend whose son is being released from prison in April called me and said "I need to start getting ready for him. What meeting do you go to?" I laughed, I think she is going to take the AlAnon crash course! But she went to the meeting with me, and I could tell she relaxed a bit. At the meeting I shared a technique that has helped me.

In the years of denial, I always had this specific picture of Andrew when he was 4 years old in my mind. He had this furry striped coat on in the picture and an expression that just epitomized his personality. Whenever I was confronted with a crisis of his own doing, my mind always reverted to the little boy in the picture. How could I let that helpless innocent get hurt?

Now I have a picture of Andrew taken 2 months ago above my computer. He is 25 years old; he is a man. When I think what course of action I should take, I put today's picture firmly in my mind. I still have to remind myself that was then and this is now, but the current picture helps me stay in the present.

I found an article that listed enabling behavior. I like the way it's spelled out.

give or lend money
provide a place to live
rescue/fix problems
supply a car or transportation
buy or provide alcohol or drugs
bail out of jail
lie to cover up problems
deny the addiction to others
defend behaviors to others
ignore or laugh at the problem
argue, plead, beg, threaten, placate, bargain
insist nothing can be done
keep secrets for the alcoholic
put yourself in jeopardy
allow drunk driving
take over responsibilities
protect from negative consequences
blame other people or circumstances
avoid social functions
provide employment
finance school related expenses
pay bills

This Is What It Is

2009-10-31T15:44:00.005-04:00

Seth Mnookin is a writer and recovering heroin addict. He writes about his junky days:

"What time is it? Heroin. What are you doing tomorrow? Heroin. Why are you going to the hospital? Heroin. What are your plans when you get out? Heroin. Written anything lately? Heroin."

And he writes about the early tenuous months of sobriety.

Recently I read an article he wrote about when his mother came to see him at yet another serial rehab.

"I was proud and excited. My track marks had healed, I had gained some weight, my hands were no longer shaking. But I did not get the reception I had been fantasizing about. My mother refused to hug me; when she first saw me, she drew an imaginary circle 5 feet around her and said that was her comfort zone. It is not OK, she said, over and over during those two days."

After some clean time, he writes:

"My mother and I are still wary of each other. She is wary of the startling tenacity with which I can embrace addiction, and I am wary of her love, which will always be there, but is not unequivocal."

The wariness has penetrated all that I believed in about being a mother. It is here to stay.