Friday, April 17, 2015

The Red Roof Inn Incident

I've written in this blog on more than one occasion about how I became addicted to my son's addiction. The first time I heard that phrase--"addicted to my son's addiction"--was in David Sheff's amazing book Beautiful Boy: A Father's Journey Through His Son's Addiction (a.k.a., The Book That Saved My Life). Up until that point, I had never really noticed the stranglehold my son's addiction had on me.

This morning I flash backed to Tuesday, April 17, 2007, which was 10 months before Beautiful Boy was even published. I was looking through my electronic journal and read the entry from exactly eight years ago.

Damn, I was pretty messed up. How messed up? Here's your first clue: The journal entry was actually written from a Red Roof Inn about 10 miles from my house.

Eight years ago tonight, my son started an argument because he wanted to have a friend he had met during a recent hospital stay over to our house on Friday night. My wife and I didn't think it was the best idea for a number of different reasons (timing, our son's awful report card, etc.), but our son would not take no for an answer. The initial fight was between my wife and my son, but I eventually joined in. (Funny: When the argument first started, I told my younger son, "Great. Just what we need. Another fight." He told me, "Just ignore it. That's what I do." I probably should've taken his advice.)

When my son was using, he was full of anger. To make matters worse, I was full of anger, too. I was in the process of learning about addiction, but I was still in that "maybe-if-I-yell-at-him-loud-enough-it'll-make-him-stop" phase. Boy, could we yell and swear at each other. I'm surprised the windows didn't shatter.

The initial argument about having a friend over quickly deteriorated into something more. And worse. As I wrote in my journal:

"We then spent about 30 minutes arguing about school, smoking pot, [my son] wanting to be a rock star, [my son] wanting to drop out, [my son] wanting this and that."

It's amazing, really, how selfish people in active addiction can be. It's like self-entitlement on steroids to the nth power.

The journal entry continues:

"After 30 minutes or so of arguing, I just told [my son] and [my wife] that I would take the blame for everything. For [our son] being screwed up. For our family being screwed up. Everything. All because I likely spoiled [our son] because I wanted to be a better father than my asshole father was. With that I went upstairs, packed a bag, and headed off to the Red Roof Inn. Maybe my going away for the night will calm things down."

That's how addicted I was to my son's addiction. I let it rule my life. My emotional state and so many of my actions were totally influenced by my son and his substance abuse. When things with my son were reasonably okay, I was reasonably okay. But when things were bad, I was fucked up. And then some.

Another thing about that night eight years ago that illustrates my point: My wife and I had tickets to a concert we really wanted to go to. Of course, I couldn't go. At least that's what I thought at the time. In reality, I wouldn't go. Because I had let my son's addiction overtake my entire life. So instead of going to a live music show with my wife that night, I ended up in a Red Roof Inn all by myself.

I said in my journal that I went to the hotel so things at home would maybe calm down a bit. But deep down inside, I knew that wasn't the real reason I left the house. I left because I was running away from the problem. I had simply had enough that night and wanted to escape the pain. It was probably the coward's way out, but at the time it seemed like a damn good idea.

Addiction is a family disease. When a family member is struggling with substance abuse, every person in that household is deeply affected. That's just the nature of the beast. The trick is learning how to live a relatively "normal" life while all hell is breaking loose around you. Is it easy? Hell no. Is it possible? Yes, but it takes quite a bit practice. Thank God I eventually became reasonably good at it.


"Angry people are not always wise." --Jane Austen in Pride and Prejudice

Thursday, April 16, 2015

The Semicolon Project

I posted the above photo on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter this morning. Afterwards, I had a number of people ask me what the photo was all about. Why on earth did I have a semicolon drawn on my wrist???

The answer is simple. The semicolon on my wrist is in response to a request from The Semicolon Project. On their Facebook page, The Semicolon Project posted this photo:

A semicolon represents a sentence the author could've ended, but chose not to. The author is you and the sentence is your life.

Wow. That's powerful stuff.


In January of 2006, my son attempted suicide. It was during a manic episode he had while being weaned off of one anti-depressant and onto another. He intentionally overdosed on anti-depressants and aspirin. For what it's worth, despite its mild-mannered reputation, aspirin can be fatal when taken in large quantities. Fortunately, one of the things our son had going for him was that the aspirin he took was of the enteric-coated variety, which slows down the dissolving and absorption of the aspirin. This may have actually saved his life.

My wife was the one who found our son in the attic at about 1:30 a.m. He was crying and explained what he had done. When my wife woke me up and told me what had happened, it was like I was having the worst nightmare ever. A hurried trip to the emergency room ensued, and doctors pumped our son's stomach. After being given a clean bill of physical health, our son took an ambulance ride to a psychiatric hospital, where he would stay for a few days (mandatory for a teenager after a suicide attempt).

Physically, our son was okay. Mentally, he was not.

My son's severe depression and anxiety preceded his addiction, which is very common among people with substance abuse disorders. He began self-medicating in order to feel "normal." He simply wanted to make the negative feelings he was experiencing go away.

That night in January of 2006 was the beginning of a long and tumultuous period, not just for my son but for our entire family. It would be July of 2012 before things finally settled down and a sense of normalcy returned to our world. As I type this, my son is 2 years, 9 months, and 2 weeks clean and sober. And you know what else? His depression is under control and he's happy.

Mental illness can come out of nowhere and kick you in the ass. But no matter how bad you feel, suicide is not the answer; instead, it's a permanent solution to a short-term problem.

If you are experiencing depression or some other form of mental illness, please seek help. Please, please, please find a professional to talk to. Or, if you're too scared to do that, at the very least find a friend to talk to. The important thing is to talk. Let somebody know how you are feeling. They can assist you in getting the help you need. Believe it or not, you can feel better again.

Remember: The author is you and the sentence is your life. Make use of that semicolon and keep that sentence going. You are so worth it.


P.S. I invite all of you to draw a semicolon on your wrist, to remind you of the struggles many people are dealing with. Even if it's not April 16th anymore when you read this, put a semicolon on your wrist for one day. And feel free to share a photo of that semicolon with me on Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram.

"The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen." --Elisabeth Kübler-Ross

Wednesday, April 15, 2015

New Heroes in Recovery Blog: Traveling for Treatment

My latest blog over at the Heroes in Recovery​ website posted today. It's called "Traveling for Treatment," and it discusses some of the advantages of sending your loved one far(ther) away to get help for their substance abuse problem.

We live in Michigan, and when the option of sending our son to California for treatment presented itself, my wife and I thought it was a crazy idea--at first. But in hindsight, it was the best thing for everyone.

I'd appreciate it if you took a couple of minutes to read my Heroes blog. Like it, share it, Tweet it, etc. And, if you feel so inclined, leave a comment underneath it to let me know what you thin

Here's a direct link to the post:

Also, while you're at the Heroes in Recovery website, be sure to take notice of the newly revamped design of the site. It's the same great information, but in a fresher, cleaner, and easier-to-navigate package.

Thanks again for all your support.


Tuesday, April 14, 2015

Life Can Certainly Be Challenging

Robert Frost once said, "In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on."

Boy, ain't that the truth.

Back in the days of my son's active addiction, I would find myself waking up in the morning and wondering how life could possibly go on in the midst of our crisis. Instead of reaching for the snooze button, I wanted to reach for a pause button, so I could put everything else in my life on hold while I focused on getting my son better.

But there was no pause button back then. And there isn't one now, either.

When I first lost my job in December of 2014, a lot of people expressed their sympathy to me. While I appreciated their kindness, I told them that losing my job was just a tiny blip on the radar compared to all the things I had been through with my son. That's still true, but my life has certainly been getting a bit more challenging recently.

It's been 486 days since I've had a regular full-time job with benefits. I admit that I never expected to be out of a job this long. Thank God for the freelance social media gigs I've been able to pick up. Unemployment benefits have helped, too, although those will disappear in two weeks.

Money isn't everything, but it does take money to survive in this world. When your job goes away, it doesn't take your bills with it. Those keep showing up. Figuring out how to pay them can sometimes be like solving the story problem from hell. And I've never liked math.

On top of the continuing unemployment saga, some other things have creeped into my life lately and raised my stress level more than just a tiny bit.

My wife's parents are not doing well. They're getting old and need more care than they're willing to accept right now. If they lived closer, it might not be as stressful. But they're in northern Michigan, nearly 300 miles away. That makes running over to check up on them a little bit inconvenient.

My younger son is also going through some issues that seem like another one of God's tests. It's kind of funny. As a parent coach for the Partnership for Drug-Free Kids, I'm supposed to help parents who are going through struggles with their kids. Unfortunately, right now I feel like I'm the one who needs coaching.

I've been great at dealing with stress over the last few years; maybe because there's been less of it in my life. The last couple of months, though, have been, to say the least, interesting. It all seems to have started with an outbreak of shingles, which they say can sometimes be brought on by (ahem) stress. In fact, this morning I felt twinges of the intense nerve pain that comes along with shingles. (Residual pain is not uncommon.) Perhaps this is my body's way of telling me to chill the fuck out.

I'll get through this little bump in the road, and these things, too, shall pass. I'm incredibly lucky to have the best support system I could ask for in my wife. She's constantly telling me that things will work out and that great things are coming our way, and I'm pretty sure she's right. (For the record, she's right most of the time.) I just have to remind myself of that every once in a while.

In the meantime, I'll tackle the family issues, continue doing my freelance work, and keep looking for that job I'm passionate about. Because, like Robert Frost said: life goes on.

"Go forward, be brave, and keep the faith." --Ryan Adams

Sunday, April 5, 2015

Easter 2015

It's Easter Sunday and I have a gigantic standing rib roast slow cooking in the oven. The whole house smells like mouthwatering meat, and that's a good thing.

In a few hours, we will sit down to Easter dinner. Me, my wife, and my two boys, along with my mom and a friend of my wife's who is alone this Easter. Unfortunately, both my brother and youngest sister aren't feeling well today, so they have to forego coming to dinner. But we will deliver meals to them so that they don't miss out on the good food. (My oldest sister lives out of state and we don't get to see her very often for holidays. She is here in spirit, though.)

I think I've mentioned before that my wife and I are not very religious. However, we are incredibly spiritual. So even though we don't go to church or study scripture, we do pray and believe that there is a higher power who is in charge of all things.

I know this because of the simple fact that today is a stress-free, worry-free holiday full of nothing but gratitude and love. The four people who mean the most to me--my wife, my boys, and my mom--will be together. And the beast of addiction will be nowhere in sight.

Holidays were pretty horrible for us for a number of years. Case in point: Easter, 2009. Looking back at the blog post from that day, I'm reminded of how things were:

This morning I was awakened by noise in my son's room at 5:15am. When I got up to investigate, I discovered that the noise was him going to bed. Going to bed at 5:15am. What is wrong with this picture? I can only imagine what time he'll be getting up today. I'm guessing it's probably a pretty safe bet that he won't be at the table for Easter dinner. Oh, well...

But you know what? Things changed. Sure, it took more than three years from that date before my son finally got clean and sober and started to turn his life around. But we never gave up, it happened, and things are better today.

My son is 2 years, 9 months, and 3 days clean today. And my wife and I are grateful beyond words for all 1,007 of those days. We hope they turn into 2,007, then 3,007, then 10,007, etc.

If you celebrate Easter, I hope you have a wonderful holiday with people you love. Hug them, tell them you love them, and enjoy being in the moment with them. I know that's the plan in this house.

Like my spiritual advisor, Anne Lamott, says (and I know I've gushed about this quote before):

"Right this minute, we understand that this is all there is, so let's really be together."

I can't say it any better than that.


I mixed up some salad dressing, left the kitchen for a minute, and returned
to find one of my cats enjoying the remnants of the olive oil. Happy Easter!

Monday, March 30, 2015

Update on My College Scholarship Plan

Back in November, I wrote a blog post announcing my plans to offer a college scholarship to a younger sibling who has been affected by their brother's or sister's addiction.

My wife and I put up $500.00 of our own money, and we were hoping to raise at least another $500.00 via a GoFundMe campaign. Thanks to some generous donors, we did raise an additional $500.00 and have a total of $1,000.00 to offer as a scholarship. (Note: It is not too late to donate to the campaign if you'd like to. I would be thrilled to be able to offer a larger scholarship; or even two scholarships if we could get to the $2,000.00 mark.)

I'm now in the process of putting the finishing touches on the scholarship, which will be an essay contest. I've assembled a panel of judges, am finalizing details, etc. The official announcement of the scholarship, including how eligible kids can apply, will be coming very soon.

Thanks again to everyone who has donated. And if you'd still like to make a contribution, no matter how small, it would be welcomed.

Here's a direct link to the GoFundMe campaign:

As I wrote in another blog post a year ago, "By the time the younger sibling of an addict gets to the point where they need help financially, their parents are quite frequently tapped out. And, once again, the sibling--through no fault of their own--gets moved to the back burner, at least temporarily."

I'm out to change that for at least one person. It may not be a large amount of money, but I'm hoping it will make a little bit of a difference in someone's world.

"We rise by lifting others." --Robert Ingersoll

Sunday, March 29, 2015

New Blog on The Fix Website

Happy Sunday, people! I'm just dropping in to let you know I have a new--and somewhat controversial?--blog up on The Fix website. It was posted late Friday and has already generated some interesting comments.

The blog is titled "Has the Time Come for Mandatory Ignition Interlock Devices?" It was inspired by a story that showed up in my email inbox last week via the Partnership for Drug-Free Kids' "Join Together" daily email, which collects the latest news on substance abuse and addiction.

The gist of the blog is whether or not Ignition Interlock Devices--which prevent someone from starting their car if their blood alcohol content is above the legal limit--should be installed on all new cars. A recent study by the University of Michigan offers up some pretty staggering numbers with regards to how many lives could be saved--and injuries prevented--if they were.

I invite you to head over to The Fix and read my blog. If you feel inclined to comment on it, and/or share it with others, that would be fabulous.

Here's a direct link to the blog:

As always, thanks for reading. I truly appreciate your support!