A lot has gone on with Ian since I last posted, most of it being somewhere between the Bad and the Ugly. This is the abridged version...we've had too many discussions and arguments to go into all of it here. 2015 did not end up being a good year for us.
During the summer of 2014, before his 14th
birthday, Ian discovered marijuana. Some people like it, some don’t. Ian loved
it, to the point of abusing it daily. I didn’t recognize the signs.It was going on right under my nose, and I didn't see it.
I came home one day, during that summer when he was too old
for day care and too young for a job, and his eyes were so bloodshot it was unbelievable.
I asked him, “What on earth is wrong with your eyes?!” to which he replied, “Oh,
Momma, I’m just so tired.” “Go take a nap for heaven’s sake!”
The number of times I’ve kicked myself since that day cannot
be counted.
About a month later, we were in the car. He turned off the
radio and said, “Mom, I’ve got to talk to you. I’ve been lying to you.” That
began a dialogue describing his drug use. I got him into substance abuse
counseling as soon as I could. He was tested weekly, and in June of 2015, he
had been clean for three months. I was so proud of him. I thought we had put it
behind us.
Unfortunately, while marijuana stays in the body for a
while, alcohol doesn’t. He began drinking. And I was blissfully ignorant. Right under my nose, and I didn't see it.
I had been on wine tours and had about 2.5 cases of
different bottles of wine in a cubby, out of sight. I never checked on it…where
would it go? I went into my cubby to get a bottle of wine near the end of
October, and I had 11 bottles there. I confronted him. What happened to my
wine? He claimed he did not know. Perhaps one of the friends he had over had
helped themselves. I took him to counseling that evening.
The next morning, I checked my cubby again. Ten bottles
left. No one had been over, and we hadn’t gone anywhere. I flat out accused him
of lying, and he continually denied it until I began to doubt myself. Finally, I
laid down an ultimatum.
This is my home.
MY home. You cannot do drugs and alcohol and live in MY home. If you continue
to do drugs and alcohol, I will find somewhere else for you to live. Are we
clear?
Yes.
You will not
live in this house. You will live somewhere else. You will NOT live in my home. Do
you understand?
Yes.
You will stop
your substance use, ALL your substance use, or you will lose your home. Do you
understand?
Yes, Momma. I understand.
One week later, I went into his bedroom to get my charger,
which is never where I leave it. It was caught on something under his bed. I
looked under his bed, and there were five empty wine bottles and three empty
beer bottles. I went back to my cubby, which in retrospect I should have
emptied right away, and there were only 9 bottles of wine left. At his
substance abuse counseling appointment that evening, he tested positive for THC
again.
I made calls and on November 29th, the day after
Thanksgiving, I admitted him to the Renaissance Center, where he will be for at
least six months.
I’m learning a lot, an education I neither expected nor wanted. I
am receiving counseling as well, because I need to know what I need to change,
both about myself and my home, so that I do not continue to enable his use. While I have attended Al-Anon meetings and have learned the three C's (I did not cause it; I cannot control it; I cannot cure it.) I know that I own a part of this. I have much to learn.
