Coming Home

Jul 29, 2017, 6:49 PM

Sixteen weeks ago today Sam and I flew up to Minnesota for treatment following his heroin overdose. It's hard to believe that much time has passed. He will be back here in Denver in less than a week. As I have said before, my emotions are very mixed. People who know little about heroin addiction think I must be so excited to see him and have him back here and that he is doing so well. They are right. Those who are familiar with it just smile and nod and tell me to breathe. They remind me that he has a lot of support and love here, as do I. They also remind me that this is Sam's battle to fight. They are also right.

I can love him and support him but I have to recognize he has to do the work. This is really hard for me. I keep thinking if I can come up with the most clever and compelling lecture on the destruction of heroin the light bulb will turn on and he will "see the light". Not going to happen. If he sees a light, it will be because he flipped the switch for himself through continued commitment to sobriety. I want him to recognize he is as vulnerable as any other addict who has died from heroin. He is not above it or better than it, he is the face of it. He is one of the lucky ones to survive an overdose and only by the grace of strangers who were willing to help.

Sam is seeing the benefits the honestly and integrity at work too. He told me that he recently approached a customer and apologized after being somewhat of a jerk to him. The customer (who had been an ass too) also apologized. Upon leaving, the customer shook Sam's hand and slipped him a $100 tip. I think it was a valuable lesson in humility. It's hard to apologize sometimes. I know people who are generally incapable of it. I was really proud of Sam and I think it shows tremendous growth. I think the main story here is that he righted a wrong instead of walking away. The tip was the cherry on top.

Specific plans upon Sam's return are still unclear but we have been preparing as well as we can. We stocked Narcan (the medication used to reverse the effects of an opioid overdose. Cops carry it and hospitals stock it. Many city librarians have been trained how to use it as well. Ours is in the form of nasal spray. There is an instruction sheet on my fridge among my daughter's drawings. Our family will get together this week so we are all clear on how to use it should we need to. I never thought this is one of the lessons I'd have to teach my kids. We are all excited and rattled regarding Sam's return. I guess we keep moving forward just as we have for more than 2 1/2 years now. One day at a time.

Once again we are back to this part of the cycle. For the fifth time in almost three years Sam is discharging from treatment. In the beginning, I felt such relief at this point. Everything seemed so good and so heartfelt. I don't feel like that any more. Not because I don't have hope and faith but because I have become guarded. I know the harsh realities of recovering from heroin addiction. Instead of getting ahead of myself and overthinking everything I will just love, support, and continue to breathe.

This journey is far from over for us. I am so proud of my son for stringing together 120 days of sobriety and it is about to get a little more real for all of us. It has been a rather peaceful 4 months knowing that Sam was safe. The problem with home is that there are constant triggers to deal with. Contrary to what some might think, triggers can be be negative OR positive. A trigger can be any situation, person, place, thing, food, tv show, driving route, conversation, feeling, song, and so on. The list is endless.

One of the pressures we family members face is that we find ourselves desperately trying to prevent these triggers. This is why we have to be willing to let go of the illusion of control: it will drive us crazy. So just as the sober person has to fight the battle to maintain their sobriety, the family member has to work to live life normally. No walking on eggshells. Firm boundaries that we are willing to stick to. Easier said than done sometimes.

For today, I will embrace the fact that I will get to hug my kid again soon. This opportunity was almost taken from me and I am forever grateful that he has been given a second chance to live. For four beautiful months now he has soberly walked through the good, the bad, and the ugly. I am sadly grateful that he has also seen, through his housemate's passing, the horrific implications of relapse first hand. It needs to hit home.

Thank you all for your continued prayers and well wishes and support. I had no idea how much other people's kindness could lift me. Where there is life, there is hope. Love you. #nomoreshame