My God, I’d
spent years smelling my teenagers’ breath for alcohol, looking for dilated
pupils and asking them if their friends were smoking pot. Our kids were even fully involved in the D.A.R.E. (Drug Abuse Resistance Education) program in school. How could this be happening to our family?
We drove
straight to the outpatient rehab facility, located inside our local hospital. I
felt like I was having an out-of-body experience as we rode the elevator up to
the floor labeled “Chemical Dependency Treatment.” I never imagined our family
would be here and hoped I didn’t see anyone I knew, at least not for the time
being. I didn’t want to have to explain anything, just yet. When we reached the
front desk, the reception staff was very friendly and asked us if we’d like
water or coffee while we waited. I’d rather have a new life, I thought.
Jaime began
the program the next day and was assigned to a counselor whom she’d see weekly,
and who could randomly drug-test her. She received a behavior log, the Big Book
of Alcoholics Anonymous, written rules of the program, and she attended her
first patient meeting that night.
“How was it,
Jaime?” I anxiously asked when she got home.
“It was
okay,” she despondently answered.
“I just don’t think I belong here.”
“Maybe it’ll
get better with time,” I said, sensing this was not going to be the easy fix I
was hoping for.
It was a big
life adjustment for all of us. While Jaime went to daily patient meetings with
other addicts/alcoholics, we were expected to attend meetings twice a week,
Mondays and Fridays, in the same building. Stu and I were labeled
co-dependents. Initially, we thought co-dependents were the interested parties
attached to the addict or alcoholic. But we soon learned that co-dependency is a
behavioral issue -a tendency to behave in excessively caretaking and/or
controlling ways. Our name was all over
that one. Stu and I had a lot of work ahead of us if we wanted healthy relationships.
Who knows? Maybe Jaime’s disease would
make us healthier!
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