Today my son left detox at a hospital and entered a residential treatment center. Actually, it is a 12 step immersion program.
It wasn't exactly a warm, fuzzy send off. Addiction, at it's height, seems to take over, making it hard to see the person. Addiction and I are not friends.
I've started to question my own sanity or maybe my lack of empathy. I've had a few folks, kind sweet folks, become tearful at the mention of what we've been doing. They have asked me how hard today must have been.
It was hard. But, not so hard to move my son there. No, for me, more than any other thing I've been doing, trying to remember that I'm dealing with addiction and it is smart and crafty and it mutates every time I make a move, that has been the challenge. You see I missed so much this time after I've supposedly been "in the know" for some time.
Dealing with addiction is a task that wears me down. Putting my son in a place far better equipped to deal with him than his home where I keep going back to treating him like he's still my little boy, that is easy. That is a relief.
The girls at the jail probably did more to help me prepare for today than anything else. They told me what they'd be doing at this stage of the game, reminding me that this is how it will be this early on. They reminded me that detox doesn't automatically make him think like me. It is but the first step; one of many.
Today, I am thankful for this opportunity for my son. I am thankful for so many caring folks. I pray for those affected by the disease of addiction. And, I say a prayer for Henry.