The following is a note that Hawk’s younger brother, Penn (no pun intended), wrote to his brother a few weeks ago after my husband, also their father, screamed at Hawk after finding six empty hard seltzer cans in the recycling bin.
“Bro, sorry for Dad yelling at you. Idk if you got my text, but it pretty much said what this note says. I believe you about those (cans) being from months ago but I can see why Dad wouldn’t trust you. But I believe you. Whatever you do, don’t get back on drugs. They already did enough to this family. Don’t forget to read that prayer book (that Penn gave to Hawk while he was in rehab) unless you finished it. Maybe search up Bible verses, but just know that I love you and Jesus loves you. Don’t give up.”
Last night Hawk confided that his last random drug test might come back positive for marijuana.
He left his second substance abuse and dual diagnosis rehab on January 18.
He had been making progress with a new job and virtual school but said that he was feeling pressure because of school and slipped up.
He knows that he may have to go back to group therapy if the test is positive. And he knows that I want him to go to an AA meeting this week and call his sponsor or tell us if he’s feeling like using.
He also said he thinks he was born as an addict because he’s always been fascinated by drugs and alcohol. I do remember elementary teachers mentioning that he was talking about wanting to drink alcohol at school as early as third or fourth grade.
It is a challenging time for him. He’s a junior and he’s getting ready to take his ACT in April and we’re looking at colleges or trades, etc.
I am proud of him for being transparent but anxious for him to tell my husband/his dad.
I’m also worried because he was acting kind of weird last night and it was reminding me of previous intoxicated behaviors.
I’m doing my best to remember that I don’t have control and I’m reading the How Al-Anon Works book now, trying to attend at least one Al-Anon meeting a week, hoping to make Wednesday night’s SM meeting, and trying to keep myself healthy.
I don’t know what else to say except I’m thankful to have several support groups to help me navigate this unpredictable journey.
And as they say, “The truth always reveals itself.”
I sit here in awe of the fact that I’m here typing the second part of this story and it’s NINE MONTHS LATER!
Everything that has transpired since my last post in January is so unbelievably heartbreaking, frustrating, and at times, mind-numbing.
Today is September 21, 2023. My father, whom I was never incredibly close with (not by my choice), is dead. He passed away on September 17 due to complications from a hip-surgery and severe dementia. He was 82.
As if losing a parent, regardless of how close we were or were not, isn’t difficult enough, our now 16-year-old son, Hawk, is attending Day 4 of a partial hospitalization mental health and substance abuse rehab for adolescents. It’s taken not just months, but years for us to get to this point. Yet it seems like this all happened in the blink of an eye. It’s like the old saying, “The moments are long , but the years are short” but in our case, by ten-fold.
So how did we get to today?
Through an unconscionable amount of fear, anxiety, grief, anger, and patience.
After the incident with Hawk-Squared last fall, Hawk was suspended from school because the school resource officer learned that Hawk and Hawk-Squared were both guilty of throwing around death threats on social media. Brilliant.
As it turns out (and unbeknownst to me until this month), Hawk-Squared was actually expelled from school. Maybe someday I can share more about how I discovered this, but not today.
That’s only the beginning of our story, really. My son, and the aforementioned Blakely, ended up dating one another exclusively until just a few days ago, when she finally broke up with him. Although he tried to break up with her a few weeks ago and then got back with her because she threatened suicide. Fabulous manipulation skills! Their relationship lasted for almost a year!
During their eleven months of dating, the mental health of our son and the dynamics within our family, steadfastly deteriorated. As if it were even possible for it to get worse.
Our son’s use of marijuana went from what was probably once or twice a month to chronic use–every day.
Concurrently, he became addicted to vaping nicotine, increased his alcohol consumption to a few times a week, transitioned from smoking weed to consuming it in edible formulations daily, and experimented with benzodiazepines, acid, and mushrooms.
In December of last year, I learned that he was suicidal; but didn’t realize it until March 13 of this year when he had a marijuana and alcohol-induced psychotic break. On that Monday night, Hawk was distraught because my husband and I were trying to limit his time with Blakely because his schoolwork was suffering. He told me that if we didn’t let him go with Blakely that he would “kill himself.” I told him to not use those words and later that day after my husband warned him about the danger of using those words in a manipulative way. Then right after this conversation on, Hawk smuggled alcohol into our house (we keep our adult small adult stash locked up) AND got high.
He became so intoxicated that at around 10 p.m. that night, he trashed his bedroom so severely that several pieces of furniture were broken, the lava lamp his girlfriend bought him was smashed on the porcelain-tile floor, and multiple holes were made in the walls and the door.
He was so enraged that he screamed, “I FUCKING hate myself! I just want to DIE!!!!!” “I FUCKING hate you both and wish you’d die!!!!”
We were terrified and concerned for his safety and everyone else’s (and didn’t realize he was intoxicated) so we called the police. When they arrived, he ran away. The sheriffs ran after him with search dogs. Our entire neighborhood knew what was happening because a) we have very aware and, some might say, nosy neighbors who complain about everything; this kind of situation is far from the norm in our community; and b) a concerned mom chose to post his name all over the neighborhood Facebook page. (Fortunately, she promptly realized her mistake and removed it).
After searching for him for what seemed like an eternity, but was in reality probably only about 30 – 40 minutes, the officers found him at his girlfriend’s house 6 miles away–he called an Uber and hauled himself to her grandparent’s house (because, of course, she doesn’t live with her parents; that’s an entirely different drama). They were unaware that he climbed through her bedroom window until the police banged on their front door.
Upon finding him, we asked the sheriff’s office to 5150 him. For those of you who aren’t familiar with this, it’s when law enforcement involuntarily escorts someone to a mental health facility because they are deemed in immediate danger and are a potential harm to themselves or others.
They took him to the closest children’s hospital ER and then, after he was evaluated, he was taken to a children’s behavioral health facility where he remained for 72 hours.
The toxicology reports came back and showed that he had a .04 blood alcohol content. He was definitely drunk, and high, when he had his outburst.
Hawk spent the next 72 hours in the children’s facility. I visited him every day. Every day he was in tears and would sob and beg for me to discharge him. However, I stood my ground and made him finish out the 72 hours in hopes that the attending physician would write orders for a bed-to-bed transfer to a residential treatment facility about 70 miles away.
Unfortunately, the doctors refused to do this. They would only write for outpatient therapy and a psychiatrist. Because, in this state, unless you literally have a needle hanging out of your arm, and are willing to go to rehab, you’re screwed.
So under careful watch, my husband and I tried to support our son by withdrawing him from his brick-and-mortar school and pivoting him into the state online school. All of us met with his school assistant principal, guidance counselors, and case manager (he has an IEP for “other health impairment” for his ADHD, anxiety, depression, and quite possibly ODD–oppositional defiance disorder). We urged him to finish out his second semester online so that he could better address his mental health (and marijuana/nicotine/alcohol addiction) to recoup his failing grades.
And it worked. For the most part. Or so we thought.
For Summer (Part III of “3:30 a.m.”) read Monday’s post here.
This morning I found two cans of Truly hard seltzer next to Hawk. I walked into his room at the ungodly hour of 5:35 a.m. to make sure he was awake for school.
He was passed out, fully clothed, on top of his bedsheets. With an empty can on his nightstand, and another hiding behind his desk chair.
“How on earth did he get those?!?!” I thought, as you probably are too as you read this. We have all of our alcohol locked up in a secure closet. More importantly, we don’t drink Truly. Or White Claw. Or the Kirkland/Costco variation. We have a few bottles of Sam Adams and a small assortment of IPAs, as well as several bottles of my favorite chardonnay. We don’t even own hard liquor anymore.
But regardless, HOW DOES HE GET IT? I’m guessing via a neighborhood “friend” or a social media plug.
Yes, we’re horrible parents. We had parental controls set up on his iPhone and his MacBook but he figured out a way around them. As he always does and always has.
Because even though he’s acting extremely stupidly and carelessly, he is very smart. At one time testing at the gifted level. Nonetheless, he’s failing most subjects at school. He’s late and/or tardy almost every day.
His new girlfriend is no winner. Sorry, but not sorry. Her behavior is the female equivalent to his. It’s as if they compare notes to try to one-up one another. I try to treat her kindly because I don’t want to create another wedge into our already dysfunctional relationship. However, I truly hope this will propel him to push her away too.
I have at least a half a dozen posts to complete about everything that has occurred over the last few weeks.
But I’m so tired. So heartbroken. Feeling so helpless.
What do you do when you believe you’ve tried everything to help your child, but nothing works?
