I need to say this outloud:

I certainly didnt cause it, I realize I cant control it, and Im not god to cure it.


Since early September weve been waiting on my brother to act on his words, ie join outpatient rehab. I didnt hold my breath, although my heart stomped when my mother told me he said that he is joining rehab. Good thing for me cause Id been holding my breath from almost two months. Tomorrow he is supposed to take his first hit of methadone.

I am not an expert, I have read a lot, but I am not in any position to have a solid opinion about methadone. All I know is that in the beginning he told my parents they were going to give him buprenorphine with naloxone, but for some uknown to us reason, there was this switch to methadone.

Here, rehab centres are public. Private ones do exist but only at the margin of the law. They recently changed the way public rehabs operate, so instead of going to the rehab centre per se, you actually go to a hospital to get your medicine. This is a good thing. There was a lot, and I mean A LOT of drug trafficking around those outpatient rehab centres. It was as if all the zombies and outcasts of the city gathered around these small clinics. I had escorted my brother to a couple of them, years ago.

My poor, sweet parents are so happy about my wedding and I know that in their heart they have secret hopes about my brother getting better. I try to keep my cool, neither feeding their hopes, nor crashing them. When I asked my mother today any news from my brother? she burst into tears, I know these tears, they are made of unspoken hope, the kind of hope that fills your heart like heroin fills the empty shell of the addict.

Im striving here.. I try not to come to DS too often in an effort to give myself a break and focus on the wedding preparations. But here I am cause I see hope flying all around and thats not a good thing, is it?

For all I know, he and the no-worth girlfriend [yes, I still don't like that person at all] could find a way to get high on methadone or smuggle it and sell it. Even before his starting day he asked my father for a gift. I need a guitar dad, he said. He has sold all three [or four] guitars my father has bought him the past couple of years.

I dont need to have my hopes raised up high here. Its a tough day for me today. I know I can handle the emotional overflow Thanks for reading.