I have heard people say “its never a good time” when trying to decide when to embark on a new endeavor in their lives many times. When friends were talking about getting pregnant, there was always a vacation they wanted to plan around, or a trip here or there. People going back to school, buying a house-whatever the situation, its usually met with “I don’t know if its a good time”…followed by someone else saying,  ”its never a good time”. I recently was told to schedule an ankle surgery that could either take 2 weeks to recover or 8 weeks, and they wouldn’t know until they were in surgery which situation it was going to be. I was telling my mom and said “how do you plan for something that could have you back in two weeks, or in bed for eight?” Her reply was simply “well, you hope for the 2 week recovery, but plan for the 8, and you just have to do it.”

When we had the intervention three weeks ago, it was clear time was not on our side. We “just needed to do it”, and we needed to do it sooner than later-or he was going to die. There was no doubt about it if it was going to happen, it was a matter of when. We were all so happy to get him into detox, and when he got home two Sundays ago, he was someone I am not sure I had ever seen before. He was totally sober, he had his coloring back, he could walk on his own (not back to normal, but MUCH better), he could carry a conversation, and he was funny again. The best noise I heard all night was him laughing. I read to him in my intervention letter that one of the things  I missed the most was his infectious laughter, and last Sunday night I was in the kitchen and he was in his room and out of no where I heard it….the laugh that I haven’t heard in years.

Getting him prepared for rehab was much like I would imagine sending your child off to “camp” would be like. We had two pages of things he had to bring with him, from sheets and towels, to spiral notebooks and highlighters. He was scared and nervous, and I was too. While he looked better than I probably have ever seen him look as far as his coloring, his eyes, and over all appearance, he was clearly tired. He had 8 roommates in detox, and one of his roommates’ mom brought the two of them ear plugs to try and drown out some of the noise so they could sleep at night. I could tell he just wanted some down time before we jumped into getting ready for rehab, so we hung out and watched a movie for a little while, and when we had procrastinated enough, went and got take out for dinner, then ran to the drug store to get his list a mile long of things he needed to bring with him the following day.

When we got back to the house we ate our dinner and finished the movie we started before we left. The fact he was going to rehab first thing in the morning for 3 months was almost forgotten. I got up and started getting the things together off the list, as he started listening to music and just went and layed on his bed. I could sense he was obviously nervous, but I also knew when he got that nervous he didn’t want to talk about it, he was just happy to know you were there. I started on his laundry that he brought home from the hospital, and the last time I checked on him he was just starting to fall asleep at 3am. By the time all the laundry was done and the suitcases were all packed, it was time for him to get up.  I wanted to let him sleep as long as possible, so after I was ready to go I went back to his room and woke him up-and was happy to see he was in such a deep slumber he almost forgot where we were heading.

His dad came by to say goodbye, we packed the car up, and headed out to the farm he was going to call home for the next couple of months. Things were eerily calm and ‘normal’ all day, as we had to run several errands and get a few more things off the list,  get a couple tests run at a minute clinic,  stop by my doctors office for an appointment I had made months before, and then we stopped for lunch. It wasn’t until my Garmin showed an estimated time of arrival that was only 5 minutes later than what the clock showed that I saw a noticeable change in his demeanor. He asked “does that mean we are going to be there in 5 minutes?” As soon as I said “yes”, he got very pale, and I don’t think he said another word until we arrived. When we pulled up to the farm, it wasn’t clearly marked, so I jumped out and ran to the door to see if we were at the right place. In a split second, it reminded me of a college fraternity house. I rang the door bell, and immediately afterwards a guy about 20 years old ran through the foyer of the house trying to put on a shirt as fast as he could and yelled “someone get the door…its A GIRL!” (as if they hadn’t seen a girl before). A different guy came to answer the door, and he looked exactly like Steve, Miranda’s boyfriend on Sex in the City-and he sounded even more like him. He was very welcoming, and told us to pull around the back so it would be easier to bring the luggage in. After we brought everything in, we walked into the kitchen-if there was ever a picture that alcohol and drug addiction doesn’t discriminate, that was it. There were 12 men in the kitchen and living room, ages from 18 to70.  We both introduced ourselves, and everyone introduced themselves and said what they were doing-some were preparing fried chicken from scratch, some were making side dishes, others dessert. About 4 guys were playing pool in a room off the kitchen, and said hi and their names from a distance. I realized I forgot something in the car and I ran back out to get it…and when I was standing at the car I looked back at the house and he was standing in the back door window, with a look of utter terror on his face…as if to scream “please don’t leave me here.” When I walked back in, he was standing alone in the hallway. Since he didn’t see what I packed, or where anything was, I opened all the bags and we quickly went over what he could find where. After that it was time for me to go, and much like the goodbye at the hospital exactly a week earlier, when he gave me a hug, he had a such a tight grip around my neck I could tell he was so scared. When I walked out of the house to the car, I couldn’t even bring myself to turn and look back at the house, because I knew it would kill me to see him so sad staring out the window.

On the drive home, I thought about the fact that EXACTLY one week earlier we were all in his living room and he was refusing to go to treatment. He couldn’t walk, he wasn’t making a lot of sense when he talked, and it was clear he was in serious trouble. In just one week he had improved so much, and while the road ahead was long and scary, it was also exciting and hopeful. If he could look this much better, have a lengthy, intelligent conversation, and was actually laughing again, after simply just getting everything out of his system, then the possibilities seemed endless when I thought about him learning healthy coping skills to deal with difficult times in his life, and positive ways to process his emotions and move forward from situations that may be less than ideal. I was SO excited for him, so happy for him, and above all, so proud of him for taking this giant step towards getting his life back. He is very much a ‘homebody’ (as am I), and prefers to be at home and watching a movie to out and hitting the bar scene. He likes his core group of friends, and doesn’t like to venture out of his comfort zone, AT ALL. In 10 very short (although they probably seemed very long to him) days, he was “the new guy” in THREE entirely different situations, where absolutely every aspect was an unknown. He didn’t know anybody, he didn’t know what he would be doing, he didn’t know what to expect day to day…and as frightening as it was, he still put one foot in front of the other, and continued on his path towards recovery. He certainly wasn’t anywhere close to ‘running’, but it reminds me of the quote from runner Dean Karnazes, “Run when you can, walk when you have to, crawl if you must; just never give up.” He was forced to go to detox. After that, it was up to him. He didn’t have to go to rehab-and if he refused,  no one could make him go. As scary and out of his comfort zone as it was, he went, and kept moving forward in this journey to reclaiming his life.

This is a guy who was always dressed perfectly, and looked like he stepped out of a Banana Republic ad all the time. I packed him jeans, sweaters, tennis shoes and clothes for church. The day after I dropped him off, he sent me a text that said “They let me text you just to let you know I am okay. This is serious hicksville. I am going to need some farm clothes. That fried chicken last night? They killed the chickens that day. This place is a “you only eat what you kill” place…I have a feeling I am going to be losing a lot of weight. The big news of the day was that the Dollar General has a new cashier that is hot, and a couple of the boys got into a tomato fight on the farm. I am doing okay though, and have met two guys I can really relate to. Our history is almost exactly the same, and I like talking to them. I actually think I am going to be okay here.”  For the very first time since I got the initial call about the intervention, I agreed with him. I thought he was going to be okay, too.

He is not allowed any communication for the first two weeks he is in treatment, and after that he gets a 10 minute phone call a day IF his team doesn’t get any demerits. They operate in a team format to add “peer pressure” to the mix, and so if someone on his team breaks a rule, everyone gets a privilege taken away-most likely off campus visits from friends and family, or the daily phone call.

While I am so proud of him, and happy for him, I found it hard to think that he was all alone for Thanksgiving. He was with people he met for a day, but he wasn’t with family and friends. I hate thinking about him being lonely, or all by himself. I’ve sent him several cards, so if nothing else he never feels like he is forgotten, and he always knows that everyone that was at that intervention are all cheering for him,and is in his corner….its just from about two hours away now. This month is not only Christmas, New Years Eve, and New years, but its also his birthday. He will spend all the major milestones of the year in rehab, without the ones that love him so much. I am so glad he is there, and I hope he is making tremendous strides every day….but I’ve been over to his house a couple times in the last 10 days to get his mail or check on things I promised I’d check on, and it makes me so sad that his life got to the point that he is now so isolated, he was for Thanksgiving, and will be for his birthday, Christmas Eve, Christmas, New Years Eve, and New Years Day. I look at the pictures around his house and just question how things got so bad, so quick. I wish I knew, and I hope he figures that out.  I realize that “however good or bad a situation is, it will change”, and I think he is definitely on the upswing of the latest change. I also know that he made the choices in his life that got him to this point, and no matter what your past is, no matter what has happened in your life, no one is in charge of your own happiness except for you. I think not knowing how he is doing, or how he is feeling about everything is what is so worrisome for everyone, because he can absolutely walk out at any time and no one can stop him. I know his family and friends would feel so much better if we just knew where he head was at, and if he felt like he was making progress in the way he deals with his life.  At the very basic, I really would like to know how he likes having a clear head every day.

He has seen more success than most people his age, and on the day of the intervention he was definitely at one of the lowest points than many will ever see as well. I hope he always remembers, “Success is not final, failure is not fatal; it is the courage to continue that counts.” So far, so good. I texted him back the day after I dropped him off and told him I was proud of him, and I really hoped he stayed the entire 90 days. He replied “there is not a chance I’m going through all this again. Its one and done for me.” I believe him, and I really hope he is right.

Watching him go through this has been a lesson for all of us involved. I hope he learns that knowledge is learning something every day. Wisdom is letting go of something every day. Everyone has a battle they are fighting. For some its food. For others its drugs and alcohol.  People may struggle  getting over an abusive past, or losing a loved one where they were never able to let it go. I hope in his journey of self discovery he learns that its okay to ask for help, and everyone needs someone to lean on now and then.

We all can only hope and believe he will, and he will emerge a stronger, healthier, much improved version of himself at the end of February, then do whatever he needs to do when he gets home to maintain his sobriety. I know he can do it, and I hope he does, too.

“Realize that life is a school and you are here to learn. Problems are simply part of the curriculum that appear and fade away like algebra class, but the lessons you learn will last a lifetime.”