I'm simply exhausted. But, I wanted to thank each of you for your support and give an update before I head to bed.
We made it to the recovery center, with son using in the gas station bathroom on our way down. Then I have the pleasure of watching him nod off in the back seat, as we start our 6 hour drive south. I could see him in my rear view mirror. I thought I was going to throw up.
Let me back up...
We had our 3rd and final court date that morning at 8AM. We had also gone the 2 days before, so let's just say the guy who does security before you enter the courtroom, was becoming our friend. This was our life for 3 days. And, when we weren't at court, we were on high alert to make sure son was "okay," and not getting in trouble or leaving our sight, except for when he was attending AA meetings.
So, the judge gives us the okay to go to recovery and thanks us, in front of everyone, for being there for our son and tells son he better not mess up, or it's jail. He tells my son to work recovery and to stop self medicating himself.
It was about 10 minutes later that we stop for gas and son is taking forever in the bathroom. I drove away from the pump and over in front of the bathroom and told my husband to go check on him. He knocks on the door and son says, "I'm almost done, Dad." My husband walks over to my window and I told him that I feel like calling the cops and telling them to come get him- I am done. I look up at my husband and he has tears in his eyes. We look at each other and we are lost. We are helpless. We have one goal and that's to get our son into rehab. We are both worn down, confused, angry, sad, hurting, and sick to our stomachs. We tell each other to stay strong. Son comes out and we are on our way. No conversation in the car and this is when I look at him in my rear view mirror and see that he's nodded off. I turn up the music and just keep driving and ask God to give me peace, I just want to feel peace.
Son wakes up about an hour later and is very pleasant. You'd think we were a family headed off to vacation. I relish in the normalcy. It's all I have for this moment.
Blocks away from the recovery center and son is adamant about stopping at a gas station. I'm still driving, so I say no. I tell him he will wait till our destination and use their bathroom. "But, I have to smoke a cigarette," he pleads. I tell him I'm not stopping. I could feel his panic. He must have had drugs still on him. I didn't care at this point. We arrive, meet everyone and I remind son that he had to go to the bathroom. He goes, and comes back out within a normal time period. So, he either flushed whatever he had left or had it hidden. I alerted the staff that he used on the way down and possibly had something on him. They told me not to worry, they deal with this daily and they gave us big hugs and told us to go home and relax, and finally get some sleep.
The goodbye with our son was pretty brief. Tears, but brief. I told him to do this for himself and that I love him more than he'll ever know. Husband hugged him next and I didn't think he'd ever let go. It's funny how intertwined in all of this mess, our roles sometimes reverse. Usually my husband is the rock of all rocks. He still is, but I realize that this has brought him to his knees, on many levels and sometimes I need to be the rock.
We drove away feeling relief. Had great conversation all the way home. Everything felt okay. Husband, as usual, went to bed first. I walk in an hour later, feeling fine, climb in bed and the floodgates open. I couldn't stop crying. I was sad for my son and his life. Husband understood my tears, but reminded me that the alternative for our son was jail- and he was right.
I told myself that my son was exactly where he needed to be and I needed to be thankful. There is no contact for the first 30 days, which will be good for all of us. We all need time...
8 hours ago