Week 13
Drugs and Pie
I’m just going to put it right out there…being a mom is tough sometimes. We are expected to know every birthday and anniversary of our families…and their families. We are supposed to know pant, shirt and shoe sizes of each child, remember doctor appointments, their friends names and who is dating who, as well as what each child will and will not eat. We drop them off at the lake, take them to practice and shuffle a car full of teenagers to the mall, after we have worked a full day for a boss who doesn’t understand how difficult his “simple” requests are. We do this everyday and it becomes our routine. But every once in while, we have a day that halts our routine…that shakes us to the core…that makes time stand still. A day when we reminisce, recalling the day they were born and vividly remembering holding our fine haired babies and gazing at their tiny fingers in our hands.
I rushed to the ER to find my 16 year old son lying in a hospital bed, eyes closed, and very still. The heart monitor was beeping wildly, lights flashing, displaying a heart rate of 41 as the nurse rushed by me to check his vitals. She told me they were still waiting on the tox screen to know definitively what he took. My son, the boy I grew and taught how to use a fork and tie his shoes, was laying motionless in a hospital bed, hooked to machines, and I had to verify he was breathing. I sat there in the hard plastic chair, a fabric curtain separating my life from the bustle of the ER. The man on the other side of the curtain was vomiting and there was a child screaming somewhere close. I started to pray. I stared at his face and his giant man feet hanging off the end of the bed. I started to cry and found my thoughts wondering back and forth from how did this happen to what type of pie the cafeteria had. Then I became fixated on pie, I craved pie in my core…I was no longer focusing on my son which I recall was a lot easier. The difference now versus 13 weeks ago is that I recognized almost immediately my intention to emotionally eat. I continued to pray, asking for divine intervention for both our addictions. I was relating to my son in a whole new way. I knew I was addicted to the feeling of full, probably the same way my son feels when he is high. I knew my son needed to be admitted into a rehab facility, and recall wishing the insurance companies and employers would recognize food addiction and cover that cost of rehabilitation.
My son is now in detox and he is not happy. I am assured this is a normal phase and as soon as he detoxifies his body and we are speaking to him, not the drugs, he should start engaging in his group sessions. I will be transporting him to Oregon this week to a locked facility. In Washington, a 16 year old has the right to refuse treatment and leave rehab any time after detox… similar to the way I have quit diets after a week. I know this is going to be a difficult journey for him; I know he will get angry or stressed and want to give in. I know it’s going to take a new strength for him to face life’s challenges sober…I will be there for him every step of the way. It will be through tough love and a shoulder he will beat this…the same way I am overcoming my addiction. I appreciate the text messages telling me to get my butt to the gym, and a listening ear when I need to talk. Tough love is tough. Whether you’re the giver or receiver of the words you don’t want to hear, it is the crucial element of any recovery program. I will not enable my son, nor do I expect any one of you to enable me. I may hate you for dragging me out of bed at 4:00am, but I recognize you are helping me get my life back. Thank you.
My Stats for the week:
Starting weight: 254 pounds
Previous weight: 225 pounds
Current weight: 222 pounds
Current Weight Loss: -3 pounds
Total weight loss: 32 pounds
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