An update from Midwestern Mama.
Some sleep. Some good food. Some family time.
These positive building blocks were starting to stack up this past week. Our son had returned home after a bender that landed him in detox the week before and then had him on the run until he had the courage to come back home.
And when he did, he asked us to hold onto his car keys and wallet. A couple of times he asked for his license and keys to run an errand, and each time he promptly completed these and returned home.
He shared a bit about what had happened, what he was thinking and what he planned to do. While we were somewhat skeptical – not of his intentions but of his current capacity to follow through – we let him make these decisions and offered, as always, our unconditional love. We carefully thought through whether this was support or enabling a 25 year old who knew well the perils of addiction and relapse.
One day at a time, we thought. Let go and let God, we thought.
Not unlike the Friday two weeks ago when our son left the house without any indication that a bender was about to begin, this past Friday he said he was going to let out our daughter’s dogs and then go to the gym to work out. This was around 1 p.m.
At 5 p.m. he wasn’t yet home. We wondered. Radar on.
At 5:45 p.m., my husband and I were walking the dog. Our son whizzed by in the car. Did he see us? He hadn’t stopped home and he didn’t stop as he passed by us on the road. We wondered where he was heading. We wondered why he didn’t stop to chat or greet the dog. In our hearts, and our heads, we knew this was not a good scenario.
Another hour or so passed and he hadn’t come home. We texted him. He didn’t reply. Yep, not good.
We checked in with our daughter. She said he had texted earlier about accidentally locking her key in the house after taking care of the dogs. She texted back and he commented that he’d had a nice visit with the dogs. Nothing more, nothing less.
By now it was getting even later, so I called him. It went to voice mail and I left a message.
Around 10 p.m., the phone rang. It was our local police department alerting us that our son had been picked up for DWI in a county about 40 miles south of our home. They had no other details to share.
Oh my. The second, significant, alcohol-related incident in two weeks.
He’s now sitting in jail waiting until a bail hearing in a day or so. I don’t know what will happen next but I do know the building blocks have tumbled, again, and he’ll need to pick these up, again. He thinks he can do it on his own but we know he needs help, again. We only hope he will recognize this and be open, willing and ready to get help, again.