Nomadsland

We have discussed on many occasions my suspersticiousness (is that a word?). I don’t want to talk about something if I think it will jinx it. I call it jinx, AC calls it “putting it out in the universe”.  A few weeks ago JoDee called me to bring her to detox.  We did the usual rush around, grab all her stuff, drive to the middle of no-where to the only place still willing to take her after all of her bad behaviors and elopement only to have her elope 18 hours later. Two weeks after that, she wanted help again.  How many times can I drop everything to run her to detox only to have her give me the finger as she yells see you later sucker as she walks away? I found how many times. No more times, that’s how many.

As it turns out, she has basically been black bawled from every detox within a reasonable and in some cases an unreasonable distance. It does seem sort of counterproductive that an addict is being refused treatment for being a violent and self-hating addict.  On the other hand, if she isn’t willing to cooperate how are they supposed to help her? The problem with my particular addict is that she became an addict in her teens. It may have been her late teens, but it was still her teens. So her mentality, her mental and emotional growth, stunted around age 17. She was already a young 17 when she was 17. She was more like 15 when she was 17 so she isn’t even acting 17 now. She is a 15-ish year old addict in a 22-year old body and she acts appropriate for that. She is too old to get into a teen program but too young to be treated like an adult. But she is an adult.

This causes many problems because she can’t shut her frigging mouth. She has yet to reach a point where she has learned that recovery is about more than not using drugs. She hasn’t figured out that it is about changing the entire way a person thinks about their world.  The entitlement she has is so outrageous there are just no words to describe it. It’s as though she is doing the world at large a favor by detoxing so we owe it to her to put up with whatever vile and horrendous bullshit she feels necessary to dole out. Not only does it make me extremely angry, I am embarrassed for her because she doesn’t even see how juvenile it is.  She doesn’t stay clean long enough for her brain to heal, so she can begin to grow, so she can begin to development and mature so the cycle just keeps repeating itself.  When she wanted to go to a program and no one would take her we called the insurance company looking for help. By we, I mean her. They helped her find a rehab that was suited to help troubled women. Women with a history of behavior troubles.  The would detox her. The would rehab her. There would be programs for after that. It was a continuing program. She would follow it for a year. It was in Cathedral City, California.  I said no fucking way. Absolutely not. I have been duped into flying her halfway to nowhere twice before only for her to runaway, go off missing for a while, and then call me desperate to fly her home. It’s a terrible cycle and not one I am in a hurry to repeat, so no.

A young man called me. He called to tell me why this is the program she needed. Why it could be the one that finally helped her. He wanted me to check out the beautiful website so I would be swayed by the chandelier affect so to rush her on the next flight, which by the by, I would have to pay for. I explained to him that I had absolute faith in the program. And I believed in their success rate, and their providers, and programs and I bet their food was amazing and I bet their sunrise yoga was like totally stellar. It was JoDee I didn’t have faith in because she is a runner and when the going is tough in detox she does not stick around. The young man took diligent notes and listen to me tell him all the horrible things she has done in the past. He said that he would have a meeting with the clinical team at the facility to let them know she would be difficult to make sure they could handle it. Several hours later, he called me back to say that they knew what they were getting into and were prepared to take her. My mother’s instinct alarms were ringing. They were so loud in my head I could hardly hear. A $12,000.00 a month rehab would be worth every penny if it would save her life yet, I was filled with dread, not hope. I didn’t give a shit about the money, I would spend every dime I had if I thought it would work. But, my guts were trying to tell me something. I was in the middle of my  month end closes so I couldn’t leave work. My two sons and Cinderella agreed to take her to the airport. I wasn’t even going to see her before she left, and I didn’t want too.

Jared text me that she could barely walk. Jay J said that Cinderella was a little horrified because she was stumbling. AC was so confused because he stopped at the house to say good-bye but she was fine. Normal. Wasn’t high at all. How in the world did she get high between our house and the airport while never leaving the kids side? When I got home from work that night, mystery was solved: She swiped a bunch of my meds before she left. I’m sure she just grabbed and ran hoping something she took would eff her up for the plane ride. She hadn’t been in the house for so long we got careless. Stopped using the safe. Left meds in the medicine cabinet. We lived like normal people even though we aren’t. It was foolish. It was the first sign. There were more along the way.  But we decided to do things differently this time. We, AC and I, decided to do things different. Usually we send her a care package right away with cigarettes, and flip-flops, and whatever gatzi gatzs she asked for but I didn’t. I told myself if she makes it all the way through detox without leaving I will send her a big package.  She called on day one to say arrived, never mentioning she pilfered my pills but was quick to give me a list of the things she wanted me to mail her and to tell me not to forget. I simply agreed with everything she said while thinking in my head thank God this is a phone call and not Skype or you would be able to tell I want to kill you.  Several more phone calls I hear how much she loves it out there, and how she is never coming home, from her. From the staff I hear that she is having a hard time adjusting with staff and other patients. That she is having episodes of violent behavior.

One night there is a phone call at 2am that she going to the ER for vomiting. At 4am I receive another call that she is leaving against medical advice. At 5am I receive a call that she is staying. I got up to make coffee. As I sipped my coffee, AC got up too. We both knew this was the beginning to the end. I said we didn’t tell anyone she was going. We never sent her anything. I didn’t want to jinx it and he didn’t want to put it in the universe. I didn’t blog about it, or Facebook it, or text it.  We didn’t discuss it amongst ourselves, or with our friends, we didn’t tell anyone. Until the day before I got the first phone call. On Tuesday someone at work asked me how JoDee was and I told them the truth, that she was in California. I panicked. I didn’t have a plan set in my head. On Wednesday I got the first call. On Thursday someone else asked if I got anymore calls and I said I didn’t. On Thursday night, they called to say she was too violent and they couldn’t keep her there. They had bought her a plane ticket. She would be flying home Friday morning. At one in the morning on Friday they called to tell me that she wouldn’t be getting on the plane because she left the facility with another girl. She was officially, effectively, a nomad. Shiftless, homeless, penniless and wondering around as a nomad. She could be anywhere. With anyone. Doing anything.  I jinxed it. Don’t ask me how I feel. Or how she is or what’s next. Or where she is, or what we are going to do. Don’t ask me stupid questions because I don’t know. The only thing I know for sure, is I have people. I cannot do a single  thing to help her, but I have other people who need me. I have a husband, two sons, two daughters, a grandmother, a dog and my three kitties that need me. I can’t think about what is next or what’s coming or what to do or how to fix this because it is too overwhelming. As a person, not even as a parent, imagine the enormity of trying to find one person in a state as large as California when they have no cell phone, don’t know anyone and, you are not even sure where to start. Last night I crawled in bed with my work clothes on and pulled the blankets over my head. At 9 at night when Jay J opened the door and I heard “mama you alright?” I realized they all probably thought I was suicidal. I forced myself up. I forced myself to work today. And I will force myself to live life until it happens naturally. In essence we are both wandering around in our own nomadsland.

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5 thoughts on “Nomadsland

  1. Dor says:

    I ache for you. For me, the worst part of addiction was the anger that my son exhibited. It was like he was possessed by the devil and would snap with the slightest provocation. I did not feel safe around him, neither did his siblings. And I hated how he made me react to him (though I guess you could say I could have not reacted). He is 3 years sober and he wouldn’t hurt a fly now. If your daughter gets into recovery, she will change. Their minds are so damaged by the drugs.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Melanie I am so very sorry….we try and harden our hearts…then when things start to go better we allow some hope inside only to crash again. My son completed rehab,got accepted to a sober house 2 hours away…came home for his things and his truck…he was suppose to check in at noon yesterday and I haven’t heard a word from him…shit…

    I am done rescueing…I am praying for him and then letting go….trying to concentrate on my life and my problems …but it is so,so hard….Prayers for you and JoDee…

    Like

    • How do they just decide to turn around? Not go to the sober house? Not go to where they promised to go? It’s absurd. It literally makes no sense. I don’t understand. I pray for both of us and ours. And some days I pray we don’t kill them.

      Like

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