Always hopeful, ever realistic

There have been few surprises on our son’s addiction journey.  That’s not to say we have been able to predict the future nor that we always have all the facts, however, it has followed patterns of other addicts and patterns that are uniquely his own.  We’ve just gotten pretty good at expecting the unexpected/expected.  With that, we’ve also become calmer and more accepting.  It’s just what our life is about.  We do our part, but cannot control the other things going on.

And do our part, we do.  My husband is a problem solver.  I am a connecter, a doer.  Together, we are in this together and whether we are directly trying to help our son or offering guidance, experience and a shoulder to others, we are compelled to do our part.

Before I tell you what I felt I needed to do this morning, let me fill you in on what transpired this weekend.  Since walking away from the halfway house on Wednesday evening, the family has not heard from my son.  By Friday, however, his older sister started posting on Facebook and friends pointed to a photo he had been tagged in.  She reached out to this person and introduced herself.  Meanwhile, I looked the person up on Instagram and found a photo of my son and some friends; they were using drugs and he was sitting there with them.  I do not know if he was using, but he was certainly around them and that’s hardly a good place for someone in recovery … if he is indeed in recovery.  I tried to hold back from entering the online exchange, but felt the urge to at least say we were concerned and hoped he would reach out to us.

So far, not contact with us, but he did call his sister from a friend’s phone late Saturday night.  Said he didn’t like the halfway house (after just a few hours of being there), planned to stay sober and would go to his first-choice halfway house when a bed became available in early February.  He even said, he had already talked to them about this. 

As always, this sounds good on the surface, but addicts are adept liars.  Hate to say it, but they are.  If he’s telling the truth, it still doesn’t align with his actions.

Meanwhile, here’s what else I was compelled to do and I believe it was my Higher Power’s will for me:  I called the “preferred” halfway house.  The intake director said he was glad I called because he needed to reach my son as a bed was opening up this week.  I updated him on the situation as he was not aware. But he said, this isn’t uncommon and if our son could provide a clean Urine Analysis, that he would go to bat to help him get the funding to admit to their program as soon as possible.  In other words, in spite of the poor choice and actions, my son my have another chance to continue his treatment recovery within a halfway program.

Now, we just need to reach our son and see if his word is good, if he truly wants to do it.  So far, we’ve not been able to find him, but his “friends” say they will let him know we have good news to share.

As much as I hope he will get back with the program and that everything will work out, I am ever realistic that it may just be him saying whatever he thinks we all want to hear.  Either way, he has a clear choice and his answer will be one of the first truths we’ve heard in a long, long time — even if it’s not what we would choose for him.  Only he knows which way he’ll choose.  It’s his choice. 

Midwestern Mama

 

Ready or not, here I come

Tomorrow morning I will pick up my son at treatment. Due to complications with finding an available half way house, his 28 day treatment has lasted 42 days. I am great for the extra days. He is ready for a new routine. He would like to return to complete freedom but is far from ready. The half way house will provide transition. Ready or not, this is the next chapter. In an upcoming post I will share my impressions.

Practicing Patience

Parenthood has taught me – or offered many opportunities to learn – patience.  During my three pregnancies, I learned that timing was not up to me.  Each child arrived when they were good and ready … and not necessarily on the designated due date.   When they were infants, I learned that their needs came first and that the notion of feeding and diapering schedules was nothing but a myth put out by Dr. Spock.

Each of them learned different skills at different time – one was an early walker at 9 months, another didn’t walk until 13 months.  One learned to ride a two-wheel bike at age three, another was closer to 8 years old. It didn’t really matter because each learned to do what they needed to when they were ready.  As they learned, so did I.

I am reminded of these lessons in patience as we await next steps for our son’s treatment and recovery.  He officially wrapped up his treatment program last week, but he’s still there because there’s not yet an opening at any of the half-way house programs.  He’s ready to move on.

There’s very little I can do to move things along any quicker than they are.  It’s frustrating that the timeline isn’t what we’d like it to be, what we expected.  It’s a lesson in patience that the right place will come along at the right time.  It’s a lesson in patience to not know which place that will be.  It’s a lesson in patience to not jump in and try to see if there is anything I can do – it’s up to him and his counselor to work through the system, and I must let them.

This is an opportunity to practice patience, again.

Midwestern Mama