Worst Mother Ever Syndrome Posted by:Brigitte--Wednesday, June 05, 2013

I, Jessica Rabbit, recently declared myself a bad mother. I am struggling with trying to shake this self-imposed title that for the most part is seen as irrational by the majority, including my husband and the four Rabbit children. I have five children, so one of them does agree that I am indeed a bad mother to him. It is because of this one person, my son Herman that I am writing this.

I do not want to share this with him; I am writing this as a means for therapeutic catharsis, hoping that by putting my thoughts in written form, I could gain more insight into myself. Even though Herman is the second child of five, Herman’s addiction made him the child that I fought for the hardest, walked on egg shells for , cheered enthusiastically for behaviors that were simply expected by the other children, lost sleep over, cried the most for, ruminated on , and almost lost myself over. I was also the one who called the police on him and according to Herman “lied and got him locked up with horrible people”. I do not regret the latter. I remind myself constantly, that I have four other wonderful, talented, honorable and accountable children. Somehow their love, respect, and accomplishments cannot fill this gaping void of pain in my heart right now. This is just one more thing that also fills me with guilt. I had such a hard time letting Herman go, although in theory I knew it was the right thing to do. I am now holding him accountable, which also includes knowing that I cannot have a relationship with him until he embraces recovery. The fact that my own son, heart of my heart, is toxic to me and my family is very painful. His addiction, which brings out his disrespect and belligerence, is something from which we needed to separate ourselves. I remember once when Herman was sick as a child, we isolated him from the rest of the children, so they would not become infected. I still stayed with him, and braved getting ill, because I was his mom. However, I became ill with the same virus, and passed it on to several other family members. In a lot of ways, the same thing is happening now. Herman is sick, and poses danger to our family. I can no longer stay with him until he gets “better”, or risk infecting the family. The rest of my family is thriving in the new calm that Herman’s absence is providing. I was told by them that it now finally feels like a real home. For me, I feel horribly that someone is missing, although I am grateful for the calm. So there will be no more Sundays afternoons spent with Herman, for the sanity and safety of my family. 

My son Herman is an addict, although if you ask him, he will tell you differently. For those of you that have addiction in the family, you are aware of the chaos it provides. Loving and mothering an addicted child is so much more than just chaos. As mothers, our bond and love for each of our children is not measurable. In my case, I loved Herman so much that he actually had me convinced at one point that down was really up, black was really white, stop was really go… I got so caught up in the insanity, that I was compromising my true convictions, and feeling guilty and horrible about myself in the process. My initial plan was to fade quietly into the proverbial woodwork of PSST, because I felt that I was not the sort of messenger the dedicated parents from PSST needed. Adding insult to injury, Roger and I received the 2012 Parent of the Year award. The beautiful plaque that the courts gave us said we worked hard to save our son, but was also a stark reminder of our hypocrisy, because we recently gave up and quit on our son. I grimaced in embarrassment when I thought of our speech that night, proudly smiling for photos with all the juvenile justice system. What would they think of us now? 

For unexplained reasons, I felt compelled to let the group know the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth (so help me Lloyd). I tested the waters by sending out an update during the last virtual meeting. I typed out the words” Roger and I told our son we could no longer have a relationship with him until he embraces recovery”. I was certainly not fishing for any compliments, and I had immediate email sender’s regret the second I clicked on send. I felt like I had quit and given up on our son. Our last interaction was a huge disaster, and could definitely go down in the PSST record books as script for best role play of what not to do. I did not remember hearing or meeting anyone in PSST who ever did that to their child. I do not remember ending the relationship ever even being considered as an option. After all, we had spent so much time together in family therapy at Herman’s many placements, practiced the tried and true skills of PSST, and now we chose to no longer have contact with each other. How could this happen? We all know the answer, addiction. 

In our neighborhood, we were the shining examples of good parenting. Herman left our house handcuffed in the back seat of a police cruiser in early August 2010. A mere 17 months of placements and many PSST meetings later, Herman was transformed into the all American boy next door. People no longer recognized him, and several that did actually shook my hand, complimenting me on a job well done. The community was actually thanking me! It was a true Cinderella story, a miracle. Maybe Herman could be one of those miracles that we all applaud. However, slowly my miracle was falling apart. Herman was using again, and we stood by our word as per our contract, that after three strikes, he was out of our house for good. On January 4, 2013, eight days shy of one year that he came home, Herman moved out. Several months later, the neighbors who once complimented me were now showing concern .Through some portal, they were able to find out what I already knew,that Herman was no longer looking or acting the same. They wanted to give me a “heads up” because they were confident that I could steer Herman straight again, Roger and I just needed to re-do the magic. My initial magic was Lloyd Woodward, Kathy Tagmyer, PSST and the legal system. However we had exhausted all of the good /magic that could have ever been gotten from our dream team. Roger and I actually asked that Herman be taken off of probation in March of 2012. It was definitely the right thing to do, because we were at the point of diminishing return with Probation and placements. Roger and I felt we could and should handle this as his parents. 

So what did I do or not do that caused me to feel like I was a bad mother? I will tell you it was not from the many placements and stays at Shuman. From 1/4/2013 to 4/21/2013 I let Herman show up hung over, reeking of drinking the night before, or high and smelling like weed into my home. In retrospect he was very disrespectful in many ways to both Roger and me. The other four siblings would hide in their rooms whenever he visited. Somehow I had developed a different set of standards for Herman than the other four Rabbits. Initially I was grateful that Herman was just smoking weed and not spice or thankfully to our knowledge, not using heroin. He was only expected to pay his bills, stay out of the legal system and stay alive. This was very different from the bar we had set for the other four rabbits. I was just happy to have a relationship, and let Herman be Herman. I foolishly believed that since he was no longer living in our home, I could roll with things when it came to Herman’s drug use. He was my son, my flesh and blood. A mother’s love is not measurable. I could not imagine ever not having a relationship with him, no matter the cost. I was willingly chugging the Herman Kool Aid.

I suspected Herman was abusing amphetamines, namely Adderall or “college crack” .I told him my concerns about the amphetamines, and was relieved when he told me he was just drinking and smoking weed. Things were now getting pretty bad, for I was now endorsing his drug use, a line I thought I could never cross. Meanwhile the other four were expected to not use drugs or drink alcohol, until they were legally able to drink, get good grades, excel and be honorable and accountable. Clearly I was setting a double standard. I chose to be blind to injustice, as well as to the degree of damage that the Herman chaos I was permitting was causing my other children. If you look to the right column on the blog, you will see the heart felt and powerful post written by my 17 year old daughter Kitt, titled “My God Darn Screw up Brother”. She wrote it for a school English paper, and received an A. My other daughter, Kitt’s twin sister Katt, informed me of how much time I spent helping and talking about Herman, to the point that she was very angry and sick of it, she said that she felt invisible My oldest, Zeke, who is Herman’s older brother by 14 months said that he was glad to have some respite and live at college because of the chaos. Zeke’s has many academic achievements, including consistently making the dean’s list. My youngest son Zach said he did not care, and had nothing to say. However I believe that the ones who say the least have the most to say. 

Then there is Herman, the reason I am even aware of this blog. He showed up to our home still celebrating 4/20 on Sunday 4/21. Roger was working on some administrative work related things, and the other siblings were hiding in their rooms, which was the norm. I should add that I pretended to not find it strange that everyone hid when Herman came, leaving me to chatter away with mindless conversation, while washing his laundry, and clearing out my pantry of food to give him. I was saving him at least 25 dollars per week in laundry, plus saving him food expense. He now had a bigger weed/alcohol budget thanks to me. Still my head was in the sand, a fact I knew. I just loved him so much that I wanted to believe him and his delusion of doing well. The blatancy of Herman’s drug use, compounded with his diatribe of how I “wronged him by placements”, hit me squarely in the eyes that day, I cannot accurately describe the events that led up to the interactions, but succinctly said, I had it. I believe it was ultimately his disrespect of his father that finally got to me. 

Roger and I both sent Herman letters to clarify our positions. I apologized for my name calling, and explained the stance we are taking. I told him that I made a huge mistake in thinking I could roll with his drug and alcohol use. The words “hear us now, believe us later, your drug use has cost you your family, but will prove to be more costly in the future”, were emphasized. Herman blames us for his drug use, and says he is using less with us out of the picture. Herman refuses to interact with me, saying I am one of his people, places and things. I guess I am, if Herman is trying to feel justified in using. In my heart of hearts I see no other way of handling this. I did everything imaginable to get him the best help and support. I did the responsible thing as a parent. There is no way that I can endorse Herman’s criminal behavior any more. We needed to protect ourselves and our family from Herman. Things were becoming progressively more chaotic and dangerous. Sadly, this was our only option. Herman told his father that this break was for the best, and that I needed to let go. So now I have Herman’s permission to let him go. Would more did I need? There is a saying “Let go, or be dragged”. I think I sometimes chose to be dragged. However I know that is not rational thinking, so I am letting go. I think it is a process that includes mourning. It has been almost 2 months since I have seen or heard from Herman, and I feel myself getting stronger. I think most rehabs say it takes 30 days to detox, I am feeling a tiny bit better about our decision. 

Roger, Herman’s father, has a very different view of the situation and what we are dealing with, as well as what it did to the family. He states “As per the contract, Herman must be on his own and must now face the consequences of the real world. The dialog became abusive, disrespectful and he was still using. We needed to protect our family. We still love him, and will be there for Herman whenever he embraces recovery”. 

So there you have it, the Rabbit family statement on the record. There is one last thing that I would like to share in closing, never forget the power of one kind word. Personally speaking, the comments and support I received when I reached out really helped to uplift me, to the point that I am starting to feel like myself again, and worthy to give out advice . 

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Moments that Make a Mother Proud Posted by:Jenn--Tuesday, June 04, 2013

Graduation with Admiration, ‘Say Cheese’

by Roxie

 
Days before walking down the aisle for a diploma, Lenny was locked in a cell with barely breathing room and wearing those Shuman sandals that make boys feel emasculated. After serving his time, Lenny walked out of Shuman into the auditorium on Friday, May 31^stto obtain his High School diploma with twin sister, Lena. 

How many counseling sessions were required for him to finally acquire this goal? They are too numerous to count, with topics so painful that the words are seared in my heart forevermore.

Seeing Lenny and Lena with a cap and gown reminded me of when I held each one on a left and right arm as babies. They were so small that I bought doll clothes for them to wear. Now, Lenny is taller than Roxie and is wearing a real cap and gown, not the petite cabbage-patch clothes they wore for the first month of life.

I’m so proud of both my children, but especially Lenny. He told me while in placement this year that he wanted to repeat 11^th grade. After coaxing, counsel, and support, he put his best foot forward and headed toward 12^th. The teachers have been our cheering section from the very start. They knew from Roxie’s crying at school appointments, that I wanted the best for Lenny and it included graduation. I begged for them to forgive Lenny for his abhorrent school behavior, and asked for mercy. The school, and God, listened.

During the Turning of the Tassel ceremony, I watched as Lenny moved his cap tassel from the right to the left, indicating that he was an official graduate. For that split second, I saw Lenny blend in with other kids who didn’t rely on drugs. Instead of constantly standing out for bad behavior, he fit right in with successful kids with a bright future. The label, ‘addict’, fell off his back while putting on his commencement robe just for that day.

They say pride cometh before a fall. Well, I felt like I was a participant in the annual Cooper Hill Cheese-Rolling event in Gloucestershire England. A 7lb. cheese ball is rolled down the hill, and the first person that rolls to the bottom is the winner.  

I fell with pride, robustly rolled, and am still waiting for the photographer to say, “Cheese, Roxie!” Lenny, I’m sure, will make me fall again!

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written by Brigitte

The PSST meeting this week was chock full: there were several terrific role-plays and good discussions. As often happens, there was not enough time to cover everyone's issues. There seemed to be a theme among some parents whose kids were no longer on probation and no longer living at home. Many are struggling.

This is the scenario for Francois and I. Pierre has been out of our home since relapse after relapse told us to try something different. After leaving a 1/2way house, he went directly to a 3/4 house. For two months, we all started to breathe a sigh of relief that maybe this time he could do it. He was going to meetings, working, speaking for his NA group and enjoying his family again; and we were enjoying him!

Sadly, I can't say that is the case right now. After leaving the 3/4 house, the past three months have shown a steady decline in his commitment to recovery. He doesn't go to meetings, hasn't held a steady job in three months, and doesn't have a place to stay except for couch surfing with friends. He admits to using but claims it was only 4 or 5 times. Neither Francois or I believe that for a second and his actions confirm our fears. Until last week, he hadn't asked us for anything and we were still able to enjoy his weekly visits.

Last week he asked if we could help him find a place to stay. I told him that our offer of paying rent on a 3/4 house is still valid but obviously he would have to be clean. He didn't like that option. I said if he were clean, he could stay here short-term (a week or two), but only if he would agree to our rules, daily drug tests, and be actively look for a job. He didn't like that option either. Instead, he proposed that we co-sign a lease and pay the first month of rent--then he would take it from there. We told him that wasn't going to work for us; we would wait until he is clean and has a job before we could talk about an apartment. Naturally, he didn't like that option either. 

I reminded him that, for three months, we have been pressing him to get a job and a place to stay; we had warned him that the day would come when he will be stuck. That day is now here and now he has to figure it out. He left angry.

He came by again a few days later and tried to convince me that his girlfriend and her mother needed $50. The request was so ridiculous, it was alarming. Surprisingly, he agreed to a drug test. It was positive as I had anticipated. When I refused his request, I saw the intensity he used to show when he was actively using and out of money. "You know that PSST group you go to?" "Yes." "Is that why you have become such a bitch?" "If by 'being a bitch', you mean not giving you money, I suppose." He got angry and said go to hell, quickly apologized, then left. I went downstairs and found a hole in the wall. Now it was my turn to be angry.

Next day he wanted to come by and I said no. He stopped by anyway. Francois asked him to leave and explained that we are willing to help but only on our terms, not his. He left although he didn't seem angry this time.Ugh. This feels like a terrible waiting game--waiting for him to become uncomfortable enough to want change. Waiting for him to hit bottom, yet hoping his bottom isn't life threatening. Each night I pray he is safe. We throw out offers of help that are contingent upon him being clean but he keeps batting them down. One thing that Lloyd said at the meeting last week really helped: Pierre isn't down all time. I often imagine him lonely, homeless and desperate. The reality is, he is out having a good time and shows us his desperate face when he wants something. Francois and I feel like he will need to fall pretty hard before he will make any positive changes but, boy, it is hard to watch. We continue to reach out to him but his addictive, manipulative behavior is starting to make it hard to maintain a healthy relationship. I keep thinking about how different he seems right now compared to when he first left the 1/2way house and it makes me incredibly sad. However, our home has become peaceful and stable since he left and we have told him we are not willing to let his addiction affect our family like it had in the past.

"I don't measure a man's success by how high he climbs but how high he bounces when he hits bottom."

George S. Patton

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My Son & The Addict Posted by:Jenn--Saturday, June 01, 2013

My son will be 27 in a couple of weeks and we once again have a close relationship.  However we had our rough spots.  He was arrested at 17 and the actions I needed to take to keep him safe and get him the help he needed caused him to become very angry. 

I refer to him as The Addict during these times because the addiction had control and he was not behaving as himself.  It is like he was locked away inside while The Addict had control on the outside.  If your son (or daughter) is trapped in this situation, be assured that he is still in there.  Your job is to free him from The Addict. And once he is free, you will see him again.

But it will get rocky along the way.  There were periods of time where The Addict hated me and didn't talk to me for months. However eventually my son thanked me for all I did and we began to rebuild our relationship.  But this may take a couple of years.  It did for my son and I.

So . . . there may be times that it feels that you are losing your son (or daughter). . . but you are not.  What is happening is you are forcing your child to lose The Addict and The Addict doesn't want to leave.

Hang in there and set your child free of The Addict.

Lori

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Incarceration vs Graduation Posted by:Jenn--Saturday, June 01, 2013

Lenny’s Incarceration 5 Days Before Graduation – by Roxie

An Ode to Lighten My Load

On Friday, the high-school bell rang for Seniors’ early dismissal.

Lenny leaped out of the school quick as a referee’s whistle.

He noticed a car full of homeboys and friends,

and his outlandish behavior suddenly came back again.

He shoved half his body in the moving car window

to yell profanities at teachers with full senior gusto.

While performing like a contortionist with no backbone at the car door,

An alert policeman eyed him up and said, “Stop. No more!”.

He called me at work to say that Lenny would be cited.

“Do what you want,” I said. “This time, I will not fight it.”

I drove Lenny to Shuman because he wanted to disobey.

There is a Memorial Monday for Roxie, but it is not the holiday.

I hope he walks on Friday with a diploma in his hand;

instead of the school being disappointed enough to make him officially banned.

Lenny’s future lies under Roxie’s wing and a prayer,

so please keep us in your thoughts so Friday, he’ll be there.

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Is He? Or Isn't He? Posted by:Jenn--Monday, May 13, 2013

I Am Not An Addict, Just an Acronym of One – by Roxie

My son, Lenny, has been out of juvenile placement now for almost three months, and will be graduating from high school May 29th. The other day, he nonchalantly asked me, “Did you ever think I would be out this long without getting into trouble?” The question caught me off guard. I answered, “Are you kidding? You’ve really surprised me, and are doing a great job!” In my heart of hearts, I hardly expected Lenny to be having a conversation with me without calling a caring counselor or the local D.A.R.E. police officer. The officer became a friend of our family years ago when Lenny’s drug exploits began.

Even though Lenny is forever faithful in attending the Narcotics Anonymous 12-step meetings, he cannot get past Step One: We admitted that we were powerless over our addiction, that our lives had become unmanageable.

Let me break down what Step One means in Lenny’s language. “I ain’t got no addiction, except to the lifestyle and the mirror. I’m a good-lookin’ guy and am not an addict. I can control it. I can use alcohol when I get legal. I’m only staying clean right now because of probation, and I’ll be off in June. I’ll be able to drink beer during the football game like everyone else. It ain’t no big thing, cuz! It’ll be ahhh-ite.”

Lenny’s thinking errors regarding his addiction, or lack thereof, has not changed for several years. Although he is clean and sober, he reminds me of a precious vase; gentle, fragile, and will shatter if handled too frequently. I deliberately overlook the little things, lest Lenny break. I experience mental anguish in knowing that hundreds of counseling hours have been poured into an impressionable vessel that appears to be flawed; Narcotics Anonymous 12-Step knowledge oozing out of cracks and crevices that were not visible to Roxie’s untrained eye.

With involvement in a parent group and solid advice from D&A experts, I’ve learned to see right through Lenny without my rose-colored glasses; adding a pretty-as-pinkish glow to an otherwise colorless situation. If he does not admit and accept his complex disease of addiction, the consequences are more institutions, numerous stints in jail, or even death. It is devastating to hear Lenny state, “I am not an addict” when his genetic predisposition could cause him to be an ideal candidate for a German-Jewish European descent / African-American / American Indian alcohol component recessive gene-pattern study based on physiology, not environment!

I long to change Lenny’s thinking, but can’t. For my own sanity, I have created an acronym to help me, and perhaps other parents, accept our children’s denial that they are not addicts:

Although Drug Dependent, I’m Clean Today.

For now, using the acronym makes it easier for me to accept Lenny’s disease of addiction by putting a positive spin on an otherwise negative word.

My Lenny, I will modestly maintain, is an addict.

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Celebration & Thanks - a letter from Wilma Posted by:Jenn--Monday, May 13, 2013

Celebration:
Regardless of how many mistakes your child has made (& continues to make), it's important to recognize and celebrate the successes!  

Thanks:
A simple thank you can really brighten someone’s day!  If someone has provided you with exemplary service, you might want to consider an old-fashioned thank you note, as Wilma did below. 
 

This is a letter I sent to the Director of the youth half-way house where my son, Bam Bam, lived from October 2012 to April 2013.  I have used pseudonyms for all parties.  He was the first resident to successfully complete the program since June 2012!!

My son, Bam Bam Flintstone, recently, SUCCESSFULLY, completed the program at Bedrock’s Youth house. This was an amazing accomplishment for Bam. During his stay he had many struggles and there were times I wasn't sure if he was going to make it.

His therapist was Penny Proud.  Penny is a wonderful, knowledgeable therapist, and her no-nonsense approach, compassion and warmth were instrumental to Bam’s success.  I got to know Penny as we had many family therapy sessions.  She was always available whenever I had questions and concerns. I liked and appreciated her directness when discussing the various issues we explored in our sessions and she was always respectful and compassionate.  I could also see that she and Bam had good rapport.  He was comfortable approaching Penny whenever he felt he needed to discuss something and I am so grateful for that.

My husband, Fred, and I were present at Bam's quartz stone ceremony.  Penny spoke and we were very moved with her kind and encouraging words.  We also were impressed and touched with the comments each boy made to Bam as they went around the circle.  We discovered that the kind and loving boy that we had seen very little of in the last three years was still inside Bam.  And we are thankful to Penny for being instrumental in bringing him back.  He still has work to do.  However, with Penny's help he has tools and techniques to help him with this next stage of his journey.

Penny is a valuable asset to your team and our family has been fortunate to have the opportunity to work with her.

Thank you.

Wilma Flintstone

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YOUR HONOR, TODAY I SPEAK AS A CONCERNED LOVING PARENT... Posted by:Lloyd Woodward--Sunday, May 05, 2013

SPECIAL COMMENT:

"Wow did this letter bring back painful memories...almost 6 years ago that I wrote this....Lloyd you posted it on Mothers Day and I can remember spending a mothers day with you at Schumann and you talking to my son and drug testing him. Then you gave me a mothers day gift...some free drug tests for at home. Which we did use and now all these years later I am happy to say my son came over on mothers day with a beautiful card and mulched our entire yard in the cold and rain/hail. I know it wouldn't be like this if not for all your,Kathies' and PSST help. For that I am truly grateful! Never give up or lose HOPE... Debby

May 14, 2013 at 8:43:00 PM EST"


This letter was read to one of our Juvenile Court Judges recently by a PSST mother. We also borrowed this scenario at a PSST meeting for a courtroom role-play. Much thanks to the brave parents who granted permission for this letter to be posted. Both parents were present and gave testimony at the hearing.

Apparently, the hearing took quite a while for the Judge to sort out and the teenager's Public Defender argued for a less restrictive disposition. However, the Judge in the case ordered inpatient treatment and he directly confronted the teenager about the seriousness of his drug problem. Below is the actual letter. Only the teenager's name has been changed and the name of a drug treatment program has been deleted.


YOUR HONOR, TODAY I SPEAK AS A CONCERNED LOVING PARENT, NOT A DRUG AND ALCOHOL PROFESSIONAL. AS I PERCEIVE THE SITUATION THERE ARE TWO JARRED’S IN THIS COURTROOM-THE JARRED BEFORE DRUGS AND THE JARRED THAT HAS BECOME A CHRONIC MARIJUANA USER.

THE JARRED BEFORE DRUGS WAS AN A-B STUDENT, PLAYED SPORTS, WAS TRUSTWORTHY, INTERACTED WITH OUR FAMILY AND MADE US LAUGH. ONCE THE CHEMICAL TOOK HOLD OF JARRED-WE SEE A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT CHILD. ONE WHO BEGINS TO FAIL SCHOOL, ONE WHO REQUIRES APPROXIMATELY 45 MINUTES TO BE AWAKENED IN THE MORNING THAT LEADS TO JARRED YELLING AND SCREAMING, KICKING AND FIGHTING WITH US. WE NOW RECEIVE NUMEROUS PHONE CALLS AND LETTERS FROM THE SCHOOL INFORMING US THAT JARRED’S GRADES ARE FALLING AND EVEN THOUGH HE IS IN SCHOOL HE IS CONSTANTLY LATE FOR HIS FIRST PERIOD CLASS. HE IS ALSO SLEEPING IN CLASS AND BEING REQUIRED TO ATTEND MULTIPLE BEHAVIOR MODIFICATION PROGRAMS AND IN- SCHOOL DETENTIONS AND SUSPENSIONS. HE DOESN’T PLAY ANY SPORTS AND REALLY SHOWS NO INTEREST IN ANY ACTIVITIES. HE VERBALLY ABUSES US, LIES TO US AND STEALS FROM US. HE CERTAINLY WANTS ALMOST NO INTERACTION WITH OUR FAMILY. WE ARE SO SAD NOW AND TRY TO HELP HIM WITH 2 OUTPATIENT PROGRAMS, 2 INPATIENT PROGRAMS, 4 DRUG AND ALCOHOL THERAPISTS, A PSYCHIATRIST, AN ICM AND CACTIS.

DESPITE ALL THAT WE ENDED UP HERE!

WE DO NOT FEEL JARRED IS A CRIMINAL OR A BAD KID. HE HAS JUST MADE SOME POOR CHOICES AND NEEDS SOME DIRECTION TO THE RIGHT PATH. WHATEVER IS DECIDED TODAY IS OUT OF OUR HANDS. I WOULD JUST LIKE TO MENTION THAT WE DO NOT FEEL COMFORTABLE SENDING JARRED TO THE [name of facillity deleted] INPATIENT FACILITY, SINCE THE LAST TIME HE WAS THERE HE ENDED UP IN THE HOSPITAL DUE TO GETTING POSSESSION OF A RAZOR BLADE AND TRYING TO TATTOO HIS UPPER ARM-WE FEEL THAT THE SUPERVISION WAS INADEQUATE.

WE MISS THE OLD JARRED AND WOULD LOVE TO HAVE HIM BACK, BUT THROUGH THIS CRAZY JOURNEY WITH HIM WE UNDERSTAND THAT THE ULTIMATE CHOICE IS UP TO HIM-NO MATTER WHAT IS DECIDED TODAY.

THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME!

Originally Posted by:Lloyd Woodward -- Friday, September 07, 2007 (note: I just realized that there are more comments to this post from another point in the blog where we reran it. Click here to see those comments and another letter to the judge from a PSST parent.)


(Courtroom drawing by student artist and mock trial attorney Hunter Wallraff, Pacific Collegiate -it does not appear to be copywright protected.)

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Roxie's Rodeo - by Roxie Posted by:Jenn--Sunday, April 28, 2013

In 2007, I was a proud mom watching my twins, Lena and Lenny, win their state’s Bible Quiz Championship. Obtaining that winning spot resulted in them participating on the national level in Missouri. One of the highlights of the Bible Quiz trip was their visit to the Dolly Parton Dixie Stampede and Rodeo in Branson, MO. Little Lenny watched in amazement while the clowns distracted the angry bulls, and cowboys held the reins for dear life.

Six years later in 2013, Roxie’s Rodeo featuring Lightning Lenny would be the weekly attraction in my own home.   The bang-up rodeo recently began when Lenny’s teacher contacted the sheriff dude, Lenny’s Probation Officer, explaining that he was not on task or completing the schoolwork assigned. The message was relayed to me, and I assured the PO that I would go through the mill in order to fix the situation. Surprisingly, Lenny threatened to go to juvenile jail before apologizing to the teacher, or even turning in the homework. My vivid imagination flashed to where the jig was up. I imagined Lenny played out, shackled, handcuffed in an orange jumpsuit with brown plastic sandals and gray socks in jail.

From 10:30pm until 11pm, I begged, demanded, pleaded, and gave up the gun for Lenny to:        

        1. Apologize to the teacher
        2. Give her the completed homework assignment
        3. Shut his bazoo

He was adamant about heading to jail before following any of the three requests above. Lenny didn’t mind being in a heap of trouble, and went to bed with me unable to break his will.
 

The next morning, while he conducted his usual routine in getting ready for school, I again urged him not to shoot his mouth off to the teacher. Five minutes before leaving the house, Lenny exclaimed, “I’ve changed my mind, mom. It’s not worth the consequences so I’ll talk to the teacher and turn in my paper today. See you later.” He shut the door and caught the school bus.

Feeling like I was over my head in rising manure-infested water, I fetched the sheriff dude for advice. “You needed to take the bull by the horns, and you did. You took a stand, did not budge, and he finally came around to seeing things more sensibly,” he encouragingly stated. As a limp-wristed mom, I felt empowered that I strong-armed Lenny to see things my way. He actually listened like a horse with an unbridled bit in his mouth. As parents, we need to get back in the saddle each time our unruly buck tries to keep us from riding. Remember that you have the power and control the reins.

Before Lenny moves to another feeding trough, I will nurture, care for, and attempt to break him into a prize-winning stallion that a young filly would be proud of. It is one of Roxie’s goals before her life is over, and she is eventually put out to pasture.

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Letting Go - by Wilma Posted by:Jenn--Sunday, April 21, 2013

THANKS!!  I want to thank Roxie for bringing the balloons to opening day at our new meeting location.  I would also like to thank Jim and Cheryl for finding our new meeting place and setting it up.  It was great seeing you today (and everyone else who attended)!!

 

After the meeting several of us released Roxie's balloons to symbolically release our obsession with our child's addiction.

For me personally, it reinforced my resolve to NOT check out a store where Bam had spent a large sum of money since his discharge from 1/2 way house to 3/4 way house. My dear friend Jane had advised me NOT to go and I had resolved not to go, BUT being in the area I was starting to relapse thinking MAYBE I should check it out anyway. However, afterwards I stuck to my resolve and did not go.

And in a larger sense, since Bam transferred to the 3/4 way house I have found myself falling back into helicopter mode. He was making poor spending decisions, had problems with work and medication. I was checking on what he was spending money on and within days he had spent about $800 on a new phone, cologne, jewelry, e-cigs, food, loans, etc.

 

Then he didn't have the money to cover his rent check. When he asked me to help him out, saying it could be his birthday gift, I said NO and have stuck to that. I guess he figured it out. I don't think he was happy about it but he is still working and trying to get extra hours, has applied for two new jobs, has interviewed with one place and has another one scheduled. He says he got the money back from the loans - maybe, but I am not making myself nuts (not today anyway) trying to find out.
 
I was making myself sick. When I wake up in the morning, even though he doesn't live here, I am sick to my stomach worried about what the day might bring. I resolved this week to STOP, he has to be accountable for his decisions and I have to step back. Trust me it's hard but I am trying. Releasing that balloon is making me accountable!

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***NEW LOCATION - PSST South Hills Meeting - This Saturday April 20*** Posted by:Jenn--Monday, April 15, 2013

We've moved!

Begining This Saturday April 20, the 3rd PSST Saturday meeting of each month will be held at Saints Simon and Jude Church, located at 1607 Greentree Road, Pittsburgh, PA 15220. The meeting begins at 9 a.m. in the School building. Look for PSST signs to guide you.

 

 

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The Changing Faces of Addiction Posted by:Jenn--Friday, April 12, 2013

Switching Addictions with Lascivious Lenny – by Roxie

Lenny’s twin sister, Lena, hears him talk openly at home about his sexual exploits or lack thereof. “He’s only a regular teenage boy,” she remarked. I began to contemplate on whether she was right. Yet, my heart says she is incorrect. I am afraid that Lenny’s addictive personality is taking him in a new direction.

While searching for information regarding his drug addiction, I discovered a 2010 letter written by world-renowned Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski, the 1972 founder of Gateway Rehabilitation Center. “I doubt that there has been any time in our history that there has been as grave a threat to the morality of our people and to the stability of the (Jewish) family as the plague of addiction to internet pornography. If it were possible to restrict access to the internet, this would be ideal. Unfortunately, this cannot be achieved and we must deal with the reality.”  For the full letter, please visit www.guardyoureyes.org.

That’s my Lenny, spot-on. A week before he was released from placement back to our home on February 27^th, Lenny nonchalantly told me “I’m switching my addiction from drugs to sex. I’ll be sober, and that’s what you want. I’m going to need condoms so if you don’t buy them, you know what can happen, don’t you?”He was holding me responsible for his safe sex practices. He has condoms in his room next to a red lighter, but Roxie did not buy either. Apparently, he is having sex and smoking cigarettes out of my view. Irrefutably, I am not a smoking voyeur since it irritates my eyes immensely.

Since Lenny has returned home, I have caught him twice in three weeks on pornography websites because he forgot to delete the computer history. I don’t consider it normal teenage activity like Lena. I believe it is part of an OCD / addiction / impulse-control disorder that can take over his life like drugs. These days, folks can die from sex. No joke.

Lenny having sex, with or without protection, evokes the same ‘butterflies in the stomach’feeling for me, as if he was using drugs or alcohol. He told me the truth, but it was a different kind of truth. I am able to deal with substance abuse, but not his sexuality.

I have become a co-dependent mom by lying to lasses for my Lenny. “He’s busy,” I stated on the phone as he suggested. I knew emphatically that he was with two other ladies on an outing. I stunned myself at the willingness to engage in double-dealing deceitfulness, for I thought I had healed over his past suicide attempt over a romantic breakup two years ago. That is why I lied for Lenny.

I remember the crisis so vividly. Lenny’s girlfriend dropped him like a bad habit after he cheated on her. Crying and distraught, he grabbed a butcher knife and sat in the broken living room chair, sticking the inside of his left wrist until blood began to slowly come to the skin surface. My brown rug absorbed his globulin like a vampire in ecstasy. I was terrified to get close to him; for fear that the skimming of the knife would turn to sawing of an artery. The ambulance took him away to a psychiatric hospital for observation. He was diagnosed with ADHD, not sexual addiction.

If Lenny is willing to take his life over sex, then it is a manipulative, sexual addiction. The scheming suicide attempt helped me to be dishonest for his future sexcapades. I did not want him to die, so I will lie to his sweetie pie.

He asked me,“Would you rather me get high or have sex?” I didn’t answer. Honestly, I’d like him to have a daily dose of saltpeter with Concerta chased with vitamin-fortified spring water.

If I was back in counseling at his placement agency, I would be told that I am experiencing thinking errors that need to be stopped immediately. I cannot continue to enable or cover up for Lenny’s sexual indiscretions. This teaching moment, based on a heart- wrenching suicide attempt, is for Roxie to learn from and begin change.

If you are concerned about finding internet pornography in your home, you can visit Dr. Twerski’s website recommendation at www.guardyoureyes.org, or read the article on Teens & Internet Pornography at http://psychcentral.com/lib/2010/teens-and-internet-pornography/.

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Redemption - submitted by Roxie Posted by:Jenn--Wednesday, April 03, 2013

Lenny’s Role in Recovery Play Leaves Roxie Profoundly Hopeful – by Roxie

One-and-a-half years ago, Lenny robbed a woman, knocking her to the ground to steal money from her purse for drugs. On Saturday, March 30^th, Lenny was in a play portraying a young man who kicked and robbed a helpless, drunken man, mocking him while he stole drug money. The compelling irony brought tears to my eyes, and gently touched my healing heart. Lenny was no longer in bondage to his addiction; he was in a play entitled, “Redeemed!”

While Lenny was in placement, the boys from the agency became involved in a Life Recovery play at South Hills Assembly. Although he was released from placement a month ago, he continued to practice at the church with the boys he used to live with.

After an hour of music by The Good News Blues Band, comprised of men with 30+ years of sobriety, the lights were lowered and the play began.

Out stumbled a drunkard, blindly staggering into unknown surroundings. A group of boys, including Lenny, came out with black t-shirts on with labels printed on the back such as Hopeless, Depressed, Insane, Self-centered, and other names that describe the human spirit in its dejected state. Paradoxically, Lenny t-shirt was labeled Hopeless.

While the drunkard was being beat and robbed, a man with Grace printed on the back of his t-shirt covered his body as protection. Hopeless, Depressed, Insane, and Self-centered attempted to get to the drunkard again, but Grace served as armor against them. During this part of the play, the song lyrics were heard stating “Jesus, friend of sinners, break our hearts for what breaks yours.”

Those with the t-shirts turned around, and each label was ripped from their backs, allowing them to be clean outside and within. The message was loud and clear for redemption through recovery with Christ in one’s life.

Lenny’s probation officer had an even more poignant idea for the play. He suggested that when the t-shirts were taken off, the boys would have additional t-shirts underneath entitled “Urges”. The impulses and strong desirous actions of the boys could eventually lead to the t-shirts entitled Hopeless, Depressed, Insane, and Self-centered. Consequently, addiction is a disease comprised of numerous layers in which recovery occurs after reaching various inner stratums.

I am very proud of Lenny and the boys from the placement agency. Their performance in public is a true sign that recovery is searing their mind-set. I have wondered how Lenny felt re-living the robbing incident in the play. I didn’t ask him; for I am quite satisfied that he is finally showing signs of being “Redeemed!”

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A Younger Sister's View of Addiction Posted by:Brigitte--Wednesday, April 03, 2013

I want to share a short story my daughter Kitt wrote for her high school Literature class. The assignment was to write a short story based on the book The Catcher In The Rye. The guidelines were that the story could be fictional or as real as you like. The only criteria was that it must be written in the voice of the character Holden. Kitt's story is very real, and provides a glimpse into how siblings are affected when one of them is a drug addict. Many of the posts on this blog are written by parents, but  I think you might find this post written by a 17 year old insightful.

I redacted and gave pseudo-names to keep things anonymous. Many of you know my story, and some have met Kitt and my family. Kitt and I both agree that Herman provides great inspiration for writing material. Who knows? Maybe a book is in the making.

 

Jessica

 

 

My Goddarn Screw Up Brother

I don't remember much, but Toontown used to be such a vibrant place. I would walk down the narrow roads looking in all the store windows. Such gorgeous streets and gorgeous windows. They were decorated with twinkling lights and flowers that you could smell without sticking your face in them. The fall was the best time to roam around. They had this jazz festival that added the perfect touch of velvetiness to the crisp air. I swear, you could hear those guitars no matter where you were in town. I didn’t mind it that much. It was sorta relaxing. Listening to the solid bass keep time for the guitars as they improvised. These guys just did whatever felt right at that moment. They did what they wanted and stole the show while the bassist kept to the same old beat. I would hear people say, "Wow, that guy can really play" and I always knew it was about the guitarist. Never the bassist. That always bothered me. He was the one that kept everythingtogether anyway.

It wasn’t until 2004 that things started to go downhill for the town. Hurricane Ivan grabbed it by its neck and shook it to the point that the town is now unrecognizable. The flood destroyed all the potential greatness Toontown had in one night. My dad had a newly remodeled dental office down there. New walls, new floors, new everything. Ivan barged in and decimated the office. Ivan didn't play favorites, he knocked down all thriving businesses and families. Toontown is now a ghost town infested with drug dealers. Those goddarn drug dealers.

Herman lives there now. I find that funny. I don't know why, but it is. We drive down there sometimes and drive past his apartment. It's a dainty, three-story building with red bricks and white windowpanes. His apartment has a window that faces the street. I like it. Right before you reach his place you have to drive down this long road. I wouldn't mind it, but there isn't much to see. Just broken down houses and old businesses filled with people just trying to get by in their lives. As we approach his building, my mom always says, "I wonder if we can see Herman through the window." I don't get why she thinks he'll be there. He never stands by the window. Ever. If he does, it's to water his already dead plant. That bothers me. That he keeps the plant, that is. It's such an eye sore. I don’t know why he doesn't just buy a new one, but I guess I'll never understand. The thing is that's what makes Herman so frustrating. His reasons behind his actions never make sense. Probably not even to himself. He just does what he pleases and doesn’t give a darn about anyone else. He wasn't always like that. I remember when I was little I use to think he was the coolest person ever. God, you should have known him. He killed me. His mannerisms would make about anyone smile and laugh. He was a chubby, brown hair, red Kool-aid mustache kid. You'd liked him. We would play this game. We called it "Rescue Babies". My sister and I were probably four years-old, making my younger brother about three and Herman six. I would sit on a bed with my sister and brother and we would be hugging each other singing "Kumbaya". We pretend the bed was our wrecked ship. Herman would be laying underneath the bed, swimming in the made up ocean. The game was always the same. We would be singing, Herman shakes the bed, and we would scream. Herman would grab one of us and drag up into the "water". The order was always the same, too. First Katt, then Rick. I would be stranded on the bed alone. It probably doesn't sound all that fun, but it was for us. Herman was the ringleader of all the best games. God, I wish you knew him. He was the one of the funniest kids you would ever meet. Teachers would always say he was never a student, but they still liked him anyway. That Herman is gone now, though. I'm not quite sure where he went, but I doubt he would be coming back anytime soon.

Anyway, it's Sunday, so I know what to expect for the day. "Kitt, Herman is coming over. Help me clean up a little," my mom says. I don't exactly mind helping. I like cleaning. If you want to know the truth, I just don't understand why we have to clean for him. He doesn't want to be here. Well, he does, but for the wrong reasons. I don’t blame my mom for wanting a clean house. It's good to have at least something nice while he's here. It wasn't long until we could hear his bass blasting from his 2002 Buick. He looks pretty stupid in that car, if you asked me. Take this typical old person car and imagine seeing a nineteen year-old blaring rap from it. It just doesn't look right. I watch him as he pulls into the driveway and opens his door. As he steps out, I can see a few bottles roll out and on to the ground. I don't want to know what was in the bottles and I don't care. He walks to the door with his electric cigarette hanging out of his mouth and rings the doorbell as if that's what he's suppose to do. The only people who stayed downstairs for him were me, my parents, and my dog who won't stop barking. She usually only barks at strangers. She usually does it to protect us. The funny thing is that she knows Herman. She used to love him so much we would say Herman was her boyfriend. Recently, though, she's been acting like an angry ex- that is still bitter about the break up. Nonstop yelling.

"You look good, Herman" my mom said. We all know though that he doesn't, but it's the only thing to say to a person like Herman without fearing the response. He walks into the livingroom as if he still owns the place and turns on the TV. Next thing I know, he turns to me

"Turn the Wii on. I want to watch Netflix." I turn to him and he coyly says,"Please." I could have smacked him right then. I was watching my favorite show.

"Sure. What are we watching?" (I really want to throw this Wii remote square in his eye.)

"I want to watch Jackass. My friend said I remind him of one of the guys." He laughed. His laugh just makes me angry. Not because it's annoying, but because it's the pot head laugh. A mixture of a monotone "huh" and the typical "ha". If you ever have the displeasure of talking to a pot head, you'll know what I mean. Herman's friends have that laugh, too. They're all such phonies. None of them even like each other.

"Kitt, give me the remote!" I didn't realized I was still holding it. I tossed it over, but I missed. I was shaking too much. I pick it up and hand it to him. "Here." I avoided eye contact with him the best I could. I knew if I looked that I would risk seeing them red and glassy. I don’t think I could handle that. We watch Jackass and I can hear my parents in the kitchen.

"Roger, do you think he's high right now?"

"I don't know. Maybe hung-over."

"Go check," my mom, her neck begins to become beat red. I feel bad for her. I know she's worked up and there is nothing I can do to make it better. Her own son turned into her worst nightmare right before her eyes. That drives me darn near crazy. I think of what I would do if I ever had a son like him. Makes me darn near crazy. I know my mom did everything possible to help him and has given him so many chances, yet he still refuses to follow any type of rule. I just want him to leave. I would take the honor of kicking him out of this house myself. I keep picturing me grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him. I would say, "What are you doing with your life? Just look what you have done." But I know I wouldn’t have the guts to do it. So I just sit here, teeth clenched and palms sweaty. I look over at Herman and he's asleep. I watch him and imagine how peaceful he would look in his coffin. It's a depressing to picture, but I know if he continues what he's doing, I'll need to be prepared.

I guess wasn't really paying attention for awhile because I heard yelling. It was Herman. I don't want to hear it, but I know I have to stay. I have to. "Herman, please calm down. It was just a simple question," my mom said. "This wasn't meant to be an argument."

"F" you, guys," Herman snaps as he stands up. That hit me right in the gut. I know it wasn't directed towards me, but it still stings. I couldn't help but feel hurt. I wanted to say something, but my father stepped in for me. "Herman. Sit down. Now. Don't you ever speak to anyone, especially your mother, like that."

"You guys effing suck." I hate when he says that. "I'm glad I'm out of here. I can't wait until I develop Alzheimer's. I don't wanna remember any of you." Does he even realize how ridiculous he sounds? Next thing I know, the door slams. He left and I can breathe again.

I stand in the living room by myself. He has to realize what he does to us. His siblings no longer want to spend time with him. He has to know they're all starting to hate him in the order of our "Rescue Babies" game. First Katt, then Rick. Not me though. I don't think I hate him. I hate what he does and what he will do, but not him. Sometimes, before I go to bed, I pray that he gets arrested. Maybe he needs to hit rock bottom. But I guess the thing is, he hit bottom awhile ago. I thought that would change him. But he is still continues down the same path. I could feel the tears starting to cloud up my eyes. I try to wipe them away, but I felt someone grab my hand. "It's okay, Kitt. We'll be okay."

 Living with and addict is like being in quick sand. If you ever been stuck in an end-less cycle like this, you'll know what I mean.

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