My son (26) is currently on his third 28-day rehab in two years (not counting a useless 7-day detox program that was a complete waste of time and money, by his own estimation). He was clean for almost 13 months, relapsed on pain pills and benzos, and shortly after, relapsed on heroin, his drug of choice. In a few days, he spiraled out of control and reverted to his former behaviors: stealing, lying, secrecy, defensiveness. And he became very, very depressed. He lost about 15 pounds in a three-week period, and started neglecting everything from his personal hygiene to his appearance. When we discovered his heroin relapse, we finally took the step that we had been dreading to take: we told him he could no longer live at home with my husband and me. He sat down by himself with pen and paper and charted out his options and each one's pros and cons: he could move in with a relapsed buddy of his and continue using; he could go to a homeless shelter but he'd probably continue to use so he'd probably be kicked out eventually; he could turn himself in for violating probation and go back to jail; he could leave the state and live on the run; he could go to a 7-day detox and move into a half-way/sober living house afterwards; he could go for a 28-day rehab and then move into a half-way/sober living house; he could hit the streets, deal drugs and use freely, but risk getting arrested and end up in prison for a longer time. He read us each option, and then coldly announced the option that was most reasonable to him (and to us, although we didn't even tell him how we really felt). He chose rehab for 28-days followed by a half-way/sober house living solution. He asked what we thought about his choice. We asked him if that's what he really wanted, and he said he thought that's what he really needed to try to get clean. We agreed to again finance whatever portion of the bill his insurance wouldn't cover (which is a lot!) and impressed upon him that we are not a bottomless well and cannot continue to finance every slip-up. He also wants to get on the Vivitrol program post release from rehab to increase his chances of staying clean. And, most important, he finally accepted to address the issue of his clinical depression.

On the last night he was home, we had a talk about going back to rehab and drugs, heroin in particular. He said he couldn't believe he was having to go back to rehab yet again, that he couldn't believe how fast his life had spun out of control; he described how good/relaxed/anxiety-free heroin made him feel until its effects wore off. He also said that when he went to his first 28-day rehab (which by the way, is the same facility he's in right now), all he was interested in was meeting girls and making friends. I remember how critical he was of the place: the food sucked, the counselors sucked, the meetings were bulls____. And here we were paying thousands of dollars "to save him" but all he was doing was nitpicking the program to death and didn't seem to be getting anything meaningful and substantial out of it!

Last night, he called briefly to say he was doing OK but was very depressed and had met with the resident doctor. As soon as he is through detoxing, the doctor is going to put him on anti-depressants and start evaluating their effect until they hit on one that works for him.

The last two to three weeks have been very difficult for all of us, my son included. He lost hope, his dad and I lost hope. I prayed for strength and hope, but the hope would not come. Today, I know better than to entertain any expectations, but there was a glimmer of hope in my son's voice last night, and a glimmer of hope
in my thoughts today.

I have read that the average recovering addict goes through three rehabs before it "takes." I have no illusions that "this is the one." But I have to admit that my addict is not quite where he was when he went to his first rehab, and for this small sign of progress, I am grateful. Meanwhile, I am hitting the SESH book (Nar-Anon) and rereading the entire thing because I too relapsed along with my son; I became anxious, obsessed, frustrated, hopeless; I fought to remain strong and finally agreed with my husband to let go, but in the process lost my serenity, because like a fool, I thought I could influence and change my son. Now I have to get it back...little by little, day by day. God grant me the wisdom!