Keep Hope from Veering Me Off-Track
I came home in the middle of the day. He didn’t expect anyone to be there. He was in the cabin that we built so that after rehab, we could still support him without allowing him back in our home. It’s been a frigid northern winter. I went to offer for him to take a shower in the house. He didn’t answer my knock. He was laying there. I held my breath. His chest rose and fell. Okay.
I woke him up. His lids were half-mast. He wasn’t really there. I recorded him with his phone, and mine (after asking him permission. He probably believed he was okay and just looked tired). He always denied things after the fact. And after a whirlwind debate later on when I would address it, he would deny it. And I would even start to question it myself. There was a reason I recorded things.
This is the agreement, I reminded myself. No drugs on the property. How do I prove it was drugs? He has so many medications. Once I call him out on having broken the agreement, am I ready to have him leave today? Now? After he becomes more clear? Is this the right thing to do? To my son? Am I overreacting?
I think it’s getting worse. He is also getting better at hiding it. He is a young adult. I know I can’t police him. Yet I have to be aware of what is going on because at some point, things need to change. For our health and for his own life path. This agreement has an end date. May 1st. The goal was never punishment. It was for sanity and safety, not to mention stability. For him and for us.
This agreement was a guidepost meant to prompt him to consider the expectations for having a roof over his head. It was also to clearly highlight consequences. The hope was to have this tangible document as a reality check and prompt movement forward in a more positive direction. He had attended an intensive recovery program. We wanted to give him space to find his footing. But structure only works if it’s solid. And lately, I’ve started to question whether our “support” has subtly evolved into something else.
The next day, everything seemed to have shifted (in hindsight, I had been here before). This often happened when he felt guilty of his behaviour. He told me he was ready. He was going to fix his schedule. Look for a job. He didn’t need to use weed that day. I felt it immediately, that pull of hope. Maybe this was finally the turning point.
We talked for over an hour. I worked hard to keep the conversation calm, because he had been really angry the previous day when I had addressed his stupor. I was trying to guide our discussion toward something positive. And for a moment, it felt like it landed
Within an hour, I happened to look outside and there he was creeping around the corner of the cabin from having used a bong. Yet again, I felt that gut-punch. Then, I realized something.
This isn’t new. This is the pattern. Why am I so surprised? He does something terrible. He is then so remorseful and incredibly hard on himself. He moves on to planning. Saying what we want him to say. He believes it himself. He is incredibly convincing! I don’t know why, but my hope grows, as it has time and time again. And every time, I find myself questioning my reaction instead of the pattern itself.
I thought it was complicated. But it’s really not. I have to ask myself: Am I supporting him… or am I making it easier for him to stay exactly where he is?
Yes I want to believe every new promise. Yes I want to give him umpteen chances. But if nothing is actually changing, then what are we really supporting? How do I gauge all of this?
I created something quite simple. I made a table and I jot down a brief summary of each day. At the end of each day, I rate it.
+1 — he worked toward recovery or did something to move forward
0 — neutral, no real movement either way
-1 — choices that move him deeper into addiction and/or away from recovery and independent living
It takes some of the emotion out of it. It gives me a birds-eye view of what is actually happening over time and not just what I hope is happening.
And do you know what I’m seeing? When I do the simple math, he is far in the negative. We are doing so much work, and the pattern isn’t changing. That means all the support, strategic discussions, and pseudo-case management isn’t doing a thing. It’s sustaining him to stay where he is.
This is the part I/we don’t want to face. But we now see, May 1st isn’t just a date, it’s a boundary… a decision. This boundary needs to remain as a hard line drawn in the sand. Sticking with this date, this document that he signed, we signed, it means we love him. We love him enough to get out of his way.
Sam Davis from Intervention On Call says it best. We cannot rob him of the experiences he needs to have. When we interfere, we are actually delaying the very consequences that could move him forward.
It’s his life. His path. Not ours. We have done our job as best we could. Now it is up to him. We need to give him this opportunity. We need to have faith that he can do this. I mean, he can source what he needs in the dead of night. He has shown to be very resourceful. It’s time we stand aside.
From now until May 1st, when I start questioning myself, I come back to a few things I need to remind myself:
Remember the patterns. Don’t fall for promises. The best predictor is the past events.
Write it down. Tracking removes the emotion.
Set a deadline (or boundary) and uphold it. It’s been established for a reason. Don’t set it if it can’t be consistently enforced.
Continue to use words of love and support. Within that, make sure the message is clear. I will support progress. I will not support actions that direct away from recovery.
He manages his life. I manage my own.
This isn’t easy. Setting appropriate boundaries and maintaining them consistently is the most supportive thing I can do. I certainly don’t have this all figured out. But I do know that if I keep fixing things, he will never learn to know that he is capable. He needs to be the one to do it.
For himself.
