When the ceiling falls...

My son is out of a 6 month prison boot camp. If I had to describe myself I'd say I'm a gentle, loving, peaceful soul so the thought of punishment militry style on someone I love is hard for me to take. I love my son and I can hardly stand the thought of someone yelling and pushing someone I love to their very limits. I try not to think about what goes on at a prison boot camp. But no one asked me about what I thought and this is where his actions took him. He attended a 6 month military style boot camp in the hot southwest desert. During the time he was gone I received several letters from him telling me about his stay. 18 mile hikes with a 60 pound pack in the desert heat... along with classes on life skills, daily work, community service, NA meetings, obstacle courses, runs... The letters helped. At least I knew he was okay and he was away from his drug friends. It sounded brutal but I hoped that this would change him and remove the obsession that heroin has on him.

He's made it through...and we make plans to meet for breakfast. When I see him his blue eyes are clear and sparkling, his pupils normal, his skin clear, his smile bright and when I hug him he is so muscular. He is calm, relaxed, happy. We talk easily and he tells me all about the boot camp. He explains that although at first he wondered if it would kill him; after a couple of weeks of the routine he saw the improvement in his body and began to feel pride in his health. He tells me all about the obstacle courses and is obviously proud of his new found fitness. He tells me of the work detail and what work he enjoyed most. His two favorites were cleaning helicopters and building a winter wonderland for a school for the mentally retarded. He talks about his plans to stay fit and to continue running 7 miles 3 times a week. We talk at length about his future and he is eager to enroll in school and start working. He announces that he and his old girlfriend are back together now that he is clean and getting his life back on track.

And I start planning...I buy him a bus pass. I offer to buy him a bike. I take him to a temp agency to sign up for work. I wondered if I'd ever get him back and here he is... And he asks me for nothing. There is no mention of will I give him a few dollars, will I get him a cell phone, can he borrow my car. He seems so grateful and unassuming. He tells me how much my support means to him. I am trying to pace myself. I don't want to overwhelm him with my excitement. I want to support him but not smother him. He's been out a week and the future looks hopeful. He gets a day job washing windows. I don't hear from him for a day and I force myself not to call. He needs room.

And then I get the call...he's been arrested for a probation violation. One of his old drug friends came over and shortly after his probation officer made a surprise visit. I have no way to talk to him but I find out what his charges are and there is no bail.

I feel sick. I am devastated. I wonder how many times a heart can break. I am angry. I feel betrayed. But most of all I feel compassion for my son. I know without a shadow of a doubt that he was hopeful too. I know he was excited too. I know he thought the future was bright and he had a new beginning. And I feel such compassion for how he must feel after having failed yet again.

So what do I do with these feelings? I want to go to sleep. I don't want to wake up if this is the reality I wake up to. I feel like doing nothing. I want to stare into space. But I know that life goes on and I do whatever I can. I make it to a meeting. I read about recovery. I call a friend. I cook dinner. I go to work. I do the next right indicated thing. All I can do for now is go through the motions. But I know if I continue doing all these things I will be better. And I pray my son will be too.