The Intervention (Part I)
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The Intervention (Part I)
I thought I would share what brought us to the point of doing an intervention with our A son one year ago. I am not in any way suggesting that this is the right thing for anyone to do with their loved one. It's our story, that's all.
Our son starting drinking when he was about 14 years old. He put us through heck and back again. Stealing. Lies. Anger. Defiance. Problems in school....eventually leading to expulsion and mandated intensive out patient treatment when he was 16. Nothing "worked". He continued to drink and use drugs. He tried a little bit of everything. Although he thought he was doing it without our knowledge, I was fully and painfully aware. He worked for us in our family business. He would come in late or not show up at all. I was sick (literally and figuratively).
He went to college. He dropped out of college. He went to trade school. He dropped out of trade school. We gave him an ultimatum. Go to treatment or we could no longer keep him working in the family business. He quit. He continued drinking and everytime something would happen that would upset him (which was fairly frequent....like weekly), he would call me and scream and threaten suicide. I was terrified of losing my only son.
He worked several jobs and either quit or got fired usually withint 3 - 6 months. He moved in with his girlfriend and they got pregnant. She partied just as hard as he did but quit when she found out she was pregnant. He didn't. He kept right on partying just as hard. He told her to have an abortion. She refused. He spat hateful words at her for keeping the baby. I don't know how she stayed with him. We watched all of this helplessly.
This continued even after their sweet boy was born. And it went on. We hired her to work for our company so that she could bring the baby to work and continue to breast feed him. I bonded with her and their baby. I love them all so very much. My son continued to drink. In fact, it got worse. He would bring people he didn't know home from the bars all of them intoxicated. His girlfriend would fear her safety and the safety of their
young son.
She finally decided that she had to get out and asked my husband and I to be present when she broke the news to him. She was terrified of his reaction. We went to their apartment and we all sat down and she told him that she and the baby were moving out. We all told him that we loved him and wanted him to get treatment. He was MAD. He blamed me (of course) everything was my fault. I accepted the guilt and shame of being the cause of all of his problems. I was his mother. It was my fault. I had raised him and did something wrong. I doubted myself. I wasn't fit to be a human being...much less a mother. My husband and daughter would tell me that they loved me and that I was a wonderful wife and mother. But my son's words were all that I heard.
I cried continually and couldn't sleep. I worried obsessively. When would the call come? When would I hear the voice of a stranger on the other end of the telephone line telling me that my son was dead.
Well....the call came at about 2:00am. It was a stranger on the other end of the line but it was his voice. My son. He was in jail. He had been picked up for DUI and had refused to take the breathalizer test. He said "Mom. I'm in jail. Are you going to come and bail me out or should I call someone else." I didn't reply immediately. I froze. My husband got up and started getting dressed even though he didn't know what was going on. He could feel it. I told my son that we would come down and bail him out.
We drove into town and couldn't find the "bail out" window at the jail. We walked all over the place in the middle of the night risking our own lives in the dark, in the city. We finally found the bail out window and told them that we were there to bail him out-- $500 "Do you take credit cards?" No. "We don't have that much cash on us. What are we suppose to do!" Go see a bail bondsman. So we continue schlepping around the city streets trying to find a bail bondsman. The signs said "open" but the doors were locked and no one would answer.
My husband had to go to work but I continued on my quest to try to get him out of jail. I went to the impound lot and got his car with the help of my niece (the car reeked of alcohol). We went to the jail and asked to see my son. They wouldn't let us. I begged. Still the answer was no. I was so worried. I had told my son that we would bail him out and we couldn't. The police told me that he would be out within 24 hours. My husband and I decided that it wasn't worth the $500 to bail him out if they were going to let him out that quickly. I went home and went on the internet to see the current list of people who were incarcerated and there was my son's name. I obsessively watched that page until he was listed as "released". And we went to pick him up.
We found him walking along the street. Looking like crap. Looking like a street person. My heart was broken. This was my baby. My son.
A week later, he was caught driving with a suspended license and no insurance. Again, it was my fault and he called me screaming and yelling and telling me that the world sucks and life sucks and death would be better. And it was all my fault. I was a lousy mother. He told me that he wished he had never been born. And it was my fault because I bore him. I brought him into this world.
Our son starting drinking when he was about 14 years old. He put us through heck and back again. Stealing. Lies. Anger. Defiance. Problems in school....eventually leading to expulsion and mandated intensive out patient treatment when he was 16. Nothing "worked". He continued to drink and use drugs. He tried a little bit of everything. Although he thought he was doing it without our knowledge, I was fully and painfully aware. He worked for us in our family business. He would come in late or not show up at all. I was sick (literally and figuratively).
He went to college. He dropped out of college. He went to trade school. He dropped out of trade school. We gave him an ultimatum. Go to treatment or we could no longer keep him working in the family business. He quit. He continued drinking and everytime something would happen that would upset him (which was fairly frequent....like weekly), he would call me and scream and threaten suicide. I was terrified of losing my only son.
He worked several jobs and either quit or got fired usually withint 3 - 6 months. He moved in with his girlfriend and they got pregnant. She partied just as hard as he did but quit when she found out she was pregnant. He didn't. He kept right on partying just as hard. He told her to have an abortion. She refused. He spat hateful words at her for keeping the baby. I don't know how she stayed with him. We watched all of this helplessly.
This continued even after their sweet boy was born. And it went on. We hired her to work for our company so that she could bring the baby to work and continue to breast feed him. I bonded with her and their baby. I love them all so very much. My son continued to drink. In fact, it got worse. He would bring people he didn't know home from the bars all of them intoxicated. His girlfriend would fear her safety and the safety of their
young son.
She finally decided that she had to get out and asked my husband and I to be present when she broke the news to him. She was terrified of his reaction. We went to their apartment and we all sat down and she told him that she and the baby were moving out. We all told him that we loved him and wanted him to get treatment. He was MAD. He blamed me (of course) everything was my fault. I accepted the guilt and shame of being the cause of all of his problems. I was his mother. It was my fault. I had raised him and did something wrong. I doubted myself. I wasn't fit to be a human being...much less a mother. My husband and daughter would tell me that they loved me and that I was a wonderful wife and mother. But my son's words were all that I heard.
I cried continually and couldn't sleep. I worried obsessively. When would the call come? When would I hear the voice of a stranger on the other end of the telephone line telling me that my son was dead.
Well....the call came at about 2:00am. It was a stranger on the other end of the line but it was his voice. My son. He was in jail. He had been picked up for DUI and had refused to take the breathalizer test. He said "Mom. I'm in jail. Are you going to come and bail me out or should I call someone else." I didn't reply immediately. I froze. My husband got up and started getting dressed even though he didn't know what was going on. He could feel it. I told my son that we would come down and bail him out.
We drove into town and couldn't find the "bail out" window at the jail. We walked all over the place in the middle of the night risking our own lives in the dark, in the city. We finally found the bail out window and told them that we were there to bail him out-- $500 "Do you take credit cards?" No. "We don't have that much cash on us. What are we suppose to do!" Go see a bail bondsman. So we continue schlepping around the city streets trying to find a bail bondsman. The signs said "open" but the doors were locked and no one would answer.
My husband had to go to work but I continued on my quest to try to get him out of jail. I went to the impound lot and got his car with the help of my niece (the car reeked of alcohol). We went to the jail and asked to see my son. They wouldn't let us. I begged. Still the answer was no. I was so worried. I had told my son that we would bail him out and we couldn't. The police told me that he would be out within 24 hours. My husband and I decided that it wasn't worth the $500 to bail him out if they were going to let him out that quickly. I went home and went on the internet to see the current list of people who were incarcerated and there was my son's name. I obsessively watched that page until he was listed as "released". And we went to pick him up.
We found him walking along the street. Looking like crap. Looking like a street person. My heart was broken. This was my baby. My son.
A week later, he was caught driving with a suspended license and no insurance. Again, it was my fault and he called me screaming and yelling and telling me that the world sucks and life sucks and death would be better. And it was all my fault. I was a lousy mother. He told me that he wished he had never been born. And it was my fault because I bore him. I brought him into this world.
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Join Date: May 2007
Posts: 58
Sounds like his rock bottom is pretty close....And although it is probably the hardest thing ever to do, you have to just get out of their way and let them fall. Only they can decide what their rock bottom is... and they have to hit it on their own time/way to begin to get up.
I have four children of my own and my heart goes out to you...I feel every ounce of your pain. Those hurtful words and the utter helplessness of the situation brings tears to my eyes.....I will keep you in my prayers and your family as well...Especially him...I will pray that his bottom come quickly and his recovery quicker...
I have four children of my own and my heart goes out to you...I feel every ounce of your pain. Those hurtful words and the utter helplessness of the situation brings tears to my eyes.....I will keep you in my prayers and your family as well...Especially him...I will pray that his bottom come quickly and his recovery quicker...
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I don't know if that was his rock bottom. It WAS my rock bottom. I just couldn't take it anymore. I was ready to walk away from him. I couldn't stand watching him self destruct anymore. I called a treatment center and arranged an intervention.
We set up "the plan". We were only going to have a few people attend the intervention. My parents, my husband, my daughter, my son's girlfriend and me. I asked my son to go to lunch with me that day and took him to a wonderful little restaurant in my car. I couldn't eat--I felt like I was being so deceitful. I excused myself and went to the bathroom and called to make sure that everyone was gathered and ready. When I came out of the bathroom, he was gone. Our table was empty. I panicked. I thought that he had figured it out. He knew what was going to happen. He had read my mind. I wanted to throw up. I sat down at the table and got my wits about me. After what seemed like an eternity, he returned the table. He had only gone to use the bathroom himself.
We got in the car and went to my parent's house (which is where the interventionist and our family were waiting). I told him that I needed to pick something up real quick and why didn't he come in and say hi to his grandparents. He walked in the door and saw them all sitting around. He knew immediately what was going on. He stood there looking like he was ready to bolt. The interventionist got up and walked over to him and asked him to sit down and listen to what we had to say.
Surprisingly, he agreed. But he was really angry. He listened to each of us. He listened to how his drinking affected us. He listened to our bottom lines. We all told him that we couldn't watch him anymore. We were prepared to let him step out of our lives.....forever if necessary. But we had to stop the pain of witnessing his self destruction. He stayed quiet for most of the time. But after everyone was finished he began to attack (verbally) the people that I love. My husband, my parents......he knew that was how he could hurt me the most. He said awful things. Hurtful things. I saw the pain on my parent's faces. I saw the firm control on my husband's face. The interventionist asked him if he was prepared to go to the treatment center. His reply "I have no choice......they have given me no choice."
It was my husband and my job to get him to the treatment center which was about two hours away. But first we had to stop by his apartment to get some of his things. I went into the apartment with him while my husband parked the car. I knew my son had a gun. It crossed my mind that he would kill me for what I had done. He packed his things and angrily told me that he hated me and hated what I was doing to him.
We drove him up there and it was the longest two hours of my life. My husband and I sat quietly in the front seat while my son pulled out every evil word he could find to throw at us. I just kept saying to myself "It's the disease talking.....it's not my son." He verbally attacked everyone he knew I loved. He said hateful, hurtful things for two hours. Once we arrived at the treatment center we all went in. We paid the $8500 to get him in. A wonderful man came out and talked with us to let us know what was going to be going on. My son sat there literally oozing anger and hatred. When it was time for him to be taken to his room, he refused to say goodbye to us. He refused to look at us. I cried.
We set up "the plan". We were only going to have a few people attend the intervention. My parents, my husband, my daughter, my son's girlfriend and me. I asked my son to go to lunch with me that day and took him to a wonderful little restaurant in my car. I couldn't eat--I felt like I was being so deceitful. I excused myself and went to the bathroom and called to make sure that everyone was gathered and ready. When I came out of the bathroom, he was gone. Our table was empty. I panicked. I thought that he had figured it out. He knew what was going to happen. He had read my mind. I wanted to throw up. I sat down at the table and got my wits about me. After what seemed like an eternity, he returned the table. He had only gone to use the bathroom himself.
We got in the car and went to my parent's house (which is where the interventionist and our family were waiting). I told him that I needed to pick something up real quick and why didn't he come in and say hi to his grandparents. He walked in the door and saw them all sitting around. He knew immediately what was going on. He stood there looking like he was ready to bolt. The interventionist got up and walked over to him and asked him to sit down and listen to what we had to say.
Surprisingly, he agreed. But he was really angry. He listened to each of us. He listened to how his drinking affected us. He listened to our bottom lines. We all told him that we couldn't watch him anymore. We were prepared to let him step out of our lives.....forever if necessary. But we had to stop the pain of witnessing his self destruction. He stayed quiet for most of the time. But after everyone was finished he began to attack (verbally) the people that I love. My husband, my parents......he knew that was how he could hurt me the most. He said awful things. Hurtful things. I saw the pain on my parent's faces. I saw the firm control on my husband's face. The interventionist asked him if he was prepared to go to the treatment center. His reply "I have no choice......they have given me no choice."
It was my husband and my job to get him to the treatment center which was about two hours away. But first we had to stop by his apartment to get some of his things. I went into the apartment with him while my husband parked the car. I knew my son had a gun. It crossed my mind that he would kill me for what I had done. He packed his things and angrily told me that he hated me and hated what I was doing to him.
We drove him up there and it was the longest two hours of my life. My husband and I sat quietly in the front seat while my son pulled out every evil word he could find to throw at us. I just kept saying to myself "It's the disease talking.....it's not my son." He verbally attacked everyone he knew I loved. He said hateful, hurtful things for two hours. Once we arrived at the treatment center we all went in. We paid the $8500 to get him in. A wonderful man came out and talked with us to let us know what was going to be going on. My son sat there literally oozing anger and hatred. When it was time for him to be taken to his room, he refused to say goodbye to us. He refused to look at us. I cried.
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We didn't hear from him. He wasn't allowed calls while he was in detox. We called and talked with the family liason and she assured us he was ok. There was a family group meeting on the first Saturday after he was admitted. We drove the two hours to go. We saw him briefly before the meeting. He gave me (or I took) an awkward hug. He was still angry and had very little to say to us. My husband and I went to the meeting, watched a film about addiction and alcoholism, and then participated in the discussion afterwards.
The next day on Sunday we made the two hour trek again and my son showed us his room and introduced us to his roommate, a very upbeat young man who was getting out the following week. We didn't talk a lot. It was uncomfortable and he was still so angry. We left before visiting hours were over.
We went back again on Tuesday and attended another family meeting, watched another film and listened to the stories of the people around us dealing with their loved ones who were addicted to drugs or alcohol. Their stories were horrific and it was painful to hear. I couldn't get through the meeting without crying.
We did this every week for four weeks. Traveling two hours each way three times a week. It was exhausting and painful but each time we went we learned more about the disease of alcoholism. We learned about our behaviors and what to do about them. We learned so much and became close to the other families who were in as much pain as we were. It was a long month....but slowly.....we saw our son changing. Two steps forward, one step back, three steps forward, one step back. It wasn't perfect. He wasn't perfect. We weren't perfect. But we were all learning how this disease affected all of us.
He had the choice to leave at any time. There were no gates or fences to keep him in. He had the choice to leave. But he stayed. He even got very ill towards the end (a flu bug of some type that was hitting everyone in the center). But he stayed. I went up to pick him up when he was released and drove him to his apartment.
That is the story of our intervention. It was one year ago. During the past year he attended AA meetings three times a week, but he stopped going about six months ago. He has gone to three or four court hearings regarding his DUI (he is on a deferred prosecution program). He still goes to his monthly meetings with his group from the treatment center. He has relapsed a few times. He has gotten sober again and that is currently where he is.
He is working for us again (and his girlfriend is still working there too). He has his good days and his bad days but luckily the good days out number the bad ones. He and his girlfriend are not together as a couple but are doing their best to co-parent their young son.
Me. I occasionally attend Alanon meetings. I read Alanon material almost every single day. I'm working on me. I'm understanding the three C's. I'm taking my inventory. I am not burdening my son with my judgement of him. I resist the urge to tell him how to live his life. We are talking (most of the time) and are on good terms. There are days that he slides back into his addicted behaviors and it's up to me not to participate by sliding with him back into my codie behaviors. It is a daily struggle but we are surviving......one day at a time.
The next day on Sunday we made the two hour trek again and my son showed us his room and introduced us to his roommate, a very upbeat young man who was getting out the following week. We didn't talk a lot. It was uncomfortable and he was still so angry. We left before visiting hours were over.
We went back again on Tuesday and attended another family meeting, watched another film and listened to the stories of the people around us dealing with their loved ones who were addicted to drugs or alcohol. Their stories were horrific and it was painful to hear. I couldn't get through the meeting without crying.
We did this every week for four weeks. Traveling two hours each way three times a week. It was exhausting and painful but each time we went we learned more about the disease of alcoholism. We learned about our behaviors and what to do about them. We learned so much and became close to the other families who were in as much pain as we were. It was a long month....but slowly.....we saw our son changing. Two steps forward, one step back, three steps forward, one step back. It wasn't perfect. He wasn't perfect. We weren't perfect. But we were all learning how this disease affected all of us.
He had the choice to leave at any time. There were no gates or fences to keep him in. He had the choice to leave. But he stayed. He even got very ill towards the end (a flu bug of some type that was hitting everyone in the center). But he stayed. I went up to pick him up when he was released and drove him to his apartment.
That is the story of our intervention. It was one year ago. During the past year he attended AA meetings three times a week, but he stopped going about six months ago. He has gone to three or four court hearings regarding his DUI (he is on a deferred prosecution program). He still goes to his monthly meetings with his group from the treatment center. He has relapsed a few times. He has gotten sober again and that is currently where he is.
He is working for us again (and his girlfriend is still working there too). He has his good days and his bad days but luckily the good days out number the bad ones. He and his girlfriend are not together as a couple but are doing their best to co-parent their young son.
Me. I occasionally attend Alanon meetings. I read Alanon material almost every single day. I'm working on me. I'm understanding the three C's. I'm taking my inventory. I am not burdening my son with my judgement of him. I resist the urge to tell him how to live his life. We are talking (most of the time) and are on good terms. There are days that he slides back into his addicted behaviors and it's up to me not to participate by sliding with him back into my codie behaviors. It is a daily struggle but we are surviving......one day at a time.
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Reading your story made me relive many moments and thoughts I had gone through.
Anyone and everyone become addicts, and they are all someones son or daughter. They come from perfect homes and less than perfect homes. They are highly educated and non educated, rich and poor. Those vile words are what the drug/alcohol is doing to the persons brain.
Get some rest
Anyone and everyone become addicts, and they are all someones son or daughter. They come from perfect homes and less than perfect homes. They are highly educated and non educated, rich and poor. Those vile words are what the drug/alcohol is doing to the persons brain.
Get some rest
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Join Date: May 2007
Posts: 58
what a much better place you are in today....for all of you....I am so happy for all of you... wishing you a merry christmas and a happy new year!
I am very proud of your son, you and the rest of your family for braving it all...thank you for the success story and giving us hope......
I am very proud of your son, you and the rest of your family for braving it all...thank you for the success story and giving us hope......
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Join Date: Dec 2007
Posts: 29
Kindeyes, thanks for sharing your story. My sister's drinking has not got that bad (yet) and your story will help me realise that it may have to get a lot worse before it can better...but that it CAN get better.
I'm so glad that you and your family are in a better place now. It must have been so hard and I admire you for getting through this. I have a son, but he is still only four years old, and I can't even imagine what you must have felt at the time. You and your husband both sound like such wonderful, caring parents and you son is very lucky to have you both.
I hope everything continues on this new path you are all on now.
Perhaps one day we (my family and I) will be able to support my sister through a similar recovery.
I wish you all a wonderful Christmas and a New Year full of new success stories to tell.
Warm wishes,
LostSister
I'm so glad that you and your family are in a better place now. It must have been so hard and I admire you for getting through this. I have a son, but he is still only four years old, and I can't even imagine what you must have felt at the time. You and your husband both sound like such wonderful, caring parents and you son is very lucky to have you both.
I hope everything continues on this new path you are all on now.
Perhaps one day we (my family and I) will be able to support my sister through a similar recovery.
I wish you all a wonderful Christmas and a New Year full of new success stories to tell.
Warm wishes,
LostSister
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Originally Posted by LostSister 
Kindeyes, thanks for sharing your story. My sister's drinking has not got that bad (yet) and your story will help me realise that it may have to get a lot worse before it can better...but that it CAN get better.
I'm so glad that you and your family are in a better place now. It must have been so hard and I admire you for getting through this. I have a son, but he is still only four years old, and I can't even imagine what you must have felt at the time. You and your husband both sound like such wonderful, caring parents and you son is very lucky to have you both.
I hope everything continues on this new path you are all on now.
Perhaps one day we (my family and I) will be able to support my sister through a similar recovery.
I wish you all a wonderful Christmas and a New Year full of new success stories to tell.
Warm wishes,
LostSister
I'm so glad that you and your family are in a better place now. It must have been so hard and I admire you for getting through this. I have a son, but he is still only four years old, and I can't even imagine what you must have felt at the time. You and your husband both sound like such wonderful, caring parents and you son is very lucky to have you both.
I hope everything continues on this new path you are all on now.
Perhaps one day we (my family and I) will be able to support my sister through a similar recovery.
I wish you all a wonderful Christmas and a New Year full of new success stories to tell.
Warm wishes,
LostSister
Thank you for your kind words. I am also hopeful that our A son stays on a positive path. I hope that your sister will recognize her issues with alcohol. It is very painful and stressful for a family to lay it all on the line through an intervention.
We just keep taking it one day at a time. We try not to wallow in the past and what we are unable to change. We try not to look too far into the future to what may or may not be. When it comes to loving an alcoholic, each day sober is a blessing.
Merry Christmas. I hope that the New Year brings you peace.
hugs
KE
get it, give it, grow in it
Join Date: May 2007
Location: Calif coast
Posts: 3,167
Thanks for telling your story. I relate to you since you started posting recently. You add a lot here to our recovery community.
I did an intervention on my son last March but he refused to go.
He hadn't hit a bottom and no one had anything to take away. A short while later he got fired from yet another job (but one he'd had for 18 mos.) girlfriend broke up, he had no home and kicked out of his band.
I let him come home.
He got much better but I think he is in relapse going the wrong way now.
Good news is that I am okay! He too is my only son and only child.
With addiction we have to fasten our seat belts bec it is a long bumpy journey. Now that he's home I see that his thinking and ambition are messy
I did an intervention on my son last March but he refused to go.
He hadn't hit a bottom and no one had anything to take away. A short while later he got fired from yet another job (but one he'd had for 18 mos.) girlfriend broke up, he had no home and kicked out of his band.
I let him come home.
He got much better but I think he is in relapse going the wrong way now.
Good news is that I am okay! He too is my only son and only child.
With addiction we have to fasten our seat belts bec it is a long bumpy journey. Now that he's home I see that his thinking and ambition are messy
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Hey SS
Thank you for your kind words. We mothers need to stick together. Alcoholic/drug addicted children cannot be "divorced". It's impossible to stop loving them (although I can say that I didn't like my son very much when he was actively drinking). I have known others who have done interventions that didn't work.......and my son has shared that several of the people he was in treatment with have since died or disappeared or relapsed. It's all so sad.
I hope that your son will someday see that a sober life is a better life.
Namaste and gentle hugs to you
KE
Thank you for your kind words. We mothers need to stick together. Alcoholic/drug addicted children cannot be "divorced". It's impossible to stop loving them (although I can say that I didn't like my son very much when he was actively drinking). I have known others who have done interventions that didn't work.......and my son has shared that several of the people he was in treatment with have since died or disappeared or relapsed. It's all so sad.
I hope that your son will someday see that a sober life is a better life.
Namaste and gentle hugs to you
KE
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