I asked my son to leave yesterday and it was not pretty. For the life of me I can't understand why I cling to the romantic notion that he is still the person I used to know. Even during the past few days he had been soo loving...when he was sober. I believe he was using Xanax because each day when I returned from work he was heavy-lidded and sleeping on the couch. When he did get up he was cranky and stumbled around trying to act normal. But oh gosh... when he wasn't and we were watching tv on the couch feet to feet sharing the throw blanket, it was so good for my heart
But then came the the day to wake him and give him the news... it's not working, you're not keeping your end of contract, we love you, will take you to rehab, shelter or friends-your choice. I had hoped that reason would take over and he would say, "You're right, I need to go to rehab. I can't stop using even though I want to."
But instead he responded with fists and curses and a need to smash everything in sight. At this point, the brutal truth of his addiction was undeniable and I knew that I had done the right thing. This was his response in the clear light of morning with no drugs to alter his ability to respond in a reasonable manner. He was furious at me for making the choice to disengage.
Today I feel relieved but sad, but also wiser and safer and saner. Thanks for listening.