Today was a day where I had trouble focusing on anything. MK and I got up early and I went to get my windshield wipers fixed, we had driven home without them yesterday evening after seeing Mike in the clinic. It seemed to fit the day, after visiting the clinic we had to drive home with night vision hampered by mist on the windows that I could barely remove with the wipers.
So we worked out and then I had more errands to attend to followed by cookie making. The latter venture ended up in my Spritz cookies going a bit crazy and I call them my “Drugged Spritz.”
The drama today centers on Mike’s girlfriend in California who has been frantically e-mailing, calling, and just not getting the concept of being in detox/rehab where you no longer have contact with the outside world. We have forwarded a fax from Mikey to her since he has no phone but I don’t think that will do it. She is pretty much demanding to talk to him. We have given her the basic info and hope that will somehow satisfy her, but that is unlikely.
Mike seemed to do okay last night and expressed to MK that he is extremely happy to be enjoying sobriety. Apparently he went through a whole bunch of t-shirts last night as he was “sweating it out.” It is a good thing I hit the TJ Maxx store and bought him new underwear and socks. He had brought so little with him from Cali (as they call it). His older brother said it was like I was preparing him for summer camp.
Anger seemed to inhabit my body this morning. Anger and helplessness. I understand the situation of my son having gotten involved with addiction. It is just so hard as a parent to sit by and watch something of this nature. Thinking that my cells helped produce him and here he is abusing what he has been so lucky to be blessed with.
Waves of emotion kept attacking me from all angles as I went through the day. I was pretty much under control until I started making cookies. I should know myself better, but as my family was able to enjoy at least a bit of humor, I am notorious at waging war on the cookie press. Only recently since I got an amazing Italian model and figured out that the dough must not be cold did I succeed. In any case, they taste delicious and they look “like Hell.” Normally, I would be upset but it seems that they should look like Hell!
I have been getting wonderful messages from all over the place and for that we are grateful. I think that my decision to share the events was a good one. I see so many people trying to hide this or that and I just don’t think it is healthy. It is a personal choice, however, and mine is to make people aware that they are not the only ones affected by such things. I know as well that there are many people who have looked at us and our family and thought that we are perfect. The fact is, especially with the advent of recent events, that we are not.
I am sitting here by the Christmas tree with my dog at my feet. My mind keeps whirring with all of the things that I need to do in the near future. I am guessing it shall hold a visit or two to California as we try to pick up the pieces and do our best to deal with what the future situation, whatever it is, brings.
I keep wondering about relapse. Once an addict, always an addict. I wonder how I am going to be able to trust my son again. Will I always wonder if he is talking or if it is rather a drug controlled brain? Will I ever get over the fear that he might fall into bad habits again? Will I ever stop looking for signs that he is “under the influence?”
Time cures all, but will it cure this?