Dealing with my Mom's Addiction Part 3

     The next time my mom ended up in drug rehab I was in 9^th grade. She had been struggling for who knows how long. I remember her thinking she was being so sneaky by hiding her pills, but I followed her around and knew many of her hiding spots. Once I remember her being downstairs in what was Shanea’s old room. She had the vacuum down there and was unzipping it where you put the bag in and she was stashing her pill bottles. I found out she would buy bottles of vanilla extract and drink it on the driveway. Once I saw her drinking beer over by the trailer. Every little thing was a major offence in my eyes. I didn’t know that people could drink a beer and be fine because my mom couldn’t. My brother Kevin would bounce back and forth from living with us and moving out, and he was an alcoholic and a major pot smoker. He was always kind and kept it pretty well under wraps. I know that he would hid his bottles though. Our laundry room didn’t have a finished ceiling and he would tuck his bottles up in the nooks and crannies. In the junk room there was always bottles in the vents. I often wondered how many of those bottles were his vs. my mom’s.

               It was the week before Memorial Day. We were getting ready to go on our annual family camping trip to Moab. It was my favorite trip every year! All of my siblings had trailers or tents, we would caravan down to south-east Utah and hike the Fiery Furnace (The Devil’s Onion), Arches, swim in the pool, walk around to all of the quirky shops. Kevin had lived in Moab so he could always take us to new places that we didn’t know about. We were packing up the trailer and the cordless phone rang. I cannot remember if I answered it or if my dad did. But my mom had been arrested for driving under the influence. She was in Centerville and was so smashed that when we got out of the car to get arrested she fell on her face and chipped her two front teeth. I remember running through the front yard, past the pine tree and away from my friends. I think we were all together just messing around skateboarding and talking. I took my boyfriend Tyler aside and told him what was happening. He was so kind to me. I’m sure he hadn’t any experience dealing with a situation like that. It was so devastating and embarrassing. That night I had a nightmare. I dreamed my mom was the wicked witch of the west, had a green face and chipped teeth. It terrified me.

Tyler was coming on the trip to Moab with us. His mom wasn’t overly happy about it, but she let him come. I didn’t even see my mom before we left. My dad must have got her checked into rehab, we decided not to cancel our trip and stay home. I remember Shirley being especially kind to me on that trip. I had never thought that she liked me that much, I am sure now it was less of that and more of her being busy with her own kids. She offered me bottled water, and it was back before it was common place to have cases of water. It really made me feel like she cared. My dad drove us down, Tyler and I rode in the back of the truck and pretty much kissed the entire way down. My poor dad! I’m sure he know exactly what was going on. We had a great trip! It was awesome to get away and not think about it all for a while. When we got back and my mom got out of rehab, she had bought me flowers. They were on the kitchen counter. She was so happy to see me and I was so fucking angry. I had always been easy to win over with gifts and my mom knew it. I walked right past those flowers as she was trying to reach for me and retreated to my bedroom. I had never been disrespectful like that, and I was sure that I was going to be in trouble. I wasn’t. I think finally everyone understood that I wasn’t a tiny child that could be bribed and told it wasn’t ever going to happen again. I knew it was. I wanted to believe her. I still do. But things don’t seem to change. It was then that my perception began to change. I had the utmost faith that she would stop, but deep down I think I knew that this addiction was not going away.

Dealing with my Mom's Addiction Part 2

     The second memory that comes to my mind when I think about my mom’s addiction and how it affected my life, is when she went to rehab. I have several memories about this, but the first one I am going to write about is the first one that made me feel shame. My mom made the decision to go to rehab. She was going to be gone for three weeks at a center called Charter in North Salt Lake. I spent every waking moment with my mom, so I was a little afraid of being without her, but I wanted her to stop using drugs so much that I was actually thrilled. 

    I was in fourth grade. My parents weren’t the type that went to parent teacher conferences, or volunteered at the school, so my teacher was oblivious to what was going on. It must have been a Monday, because the teacher asked if anyone had any good news or had something to share about the weekend. I raised my hand high above my head and hoped she would call on me. She did! I was so excited to tell this adult, who was so much a part of my life my good news. I excitedly said, “My mom went to rehab this weekend! She is going to stop using drugs!” I was bursting with excitement, and hope. As soon as the words came out of my mouth, my teachers face dropped. She was mortified. I knew immediately that I had made a mistake. She tried to make light, tried to recover, but it was too late. I knew that my pride shouldn’t have been pride, that it should have been shame. But how could it be? I was maybe 9 or 10 years old, and I just wanted my mom back. I was filled with optimism, anticipation and faith! I knew she was going to do this and it would never be a problem again. I was very wrong.

Now as an adult, looking back on this, I can see what a struggle it would have been for my dad. He would have had to use his vacation time to stay home and care for me during this stint. He still had hope. He drove me to school every day and bought me a tape of The Bodyguard soundtrack. We sang Whitney Houston and he drank coffee and I got candy. I loved spending time with him. Those weeks that my mom was gone, really made us depend on one another. We had always been close, I knew he worshipped me. But now we were partners with a common vice. We went through it together because we were the only ones in the family home now. Everyone else had moved out. We wrote letters to Kade, babysat Shanea’s kids, and called Debbie every week. But we were the ones dealing with the day to day of addiction.  

Dealing with my Mom's Addiction

 

The first memory that comes to mind about my mom’s addiction is always the same one. I had just gotten out of the shower. I was probably 9 or 10 years old. I had just gotten out of a steamy shower and I was wearing a white bathrobe that had a peach windowpane pattern on it. My hair was wrapped up in a matching peach towel, which Santa had brought my mom for Christmas the previous year. My dad was out on the road. I’m not sure what day it was, but he wasn’t due back anytime soon. 

My mom was constantly rearranging the furniture (something that I also do constantly at my own home). And for some reason there was a recliner in the dining area, along with a round oak table and an 11” TV on the counter. My mom was sitting in the recliner, and something was wrong. I don’t remember exactly how it escalated, but I know that somehow I was worried enough that I called my sister, Debbie. Debbie lived in New York, so she was pretty helpless in the situation. 

My mom was slurring her words, and I was frightened. It wasn’t the first time it had happened, but it may have been the first time that it had happened while I was alone at home with her. 

That same year, my sister Shanea had gotten married and moved out, and my brother Kade had left on a mission that lasted two years. It was just me and my mom when dad was at work, and he was usually gone for two nights and three days. Anyway, Debbie told me to go into a room and lock the door behind me. I chose the first bathroom. It is a small bathroom that is the length of a tub, with the sink and toilet directly across from it. I don’t know if, Debbie got in touch with Shanea somehow, or if I had called her previously, but I think I knew she was on her way. My hair was getting dry, and I had the cordless phone with me. I was crying, I didn’t know what to do. Debbie kept telling me that I had to hang up the phone with her and call 911.

I had never done anything that serious before and I was terrified of what that meant. That mom really had a problem, that I was really all alone with her, that my dad couldn’t get home to me. The whole while my mom was banging on the door insisting that I open it up. I am telling her, no, no. I won’t open up, you are scaring me. Debbie is telling me to hang up and call the ambulance, that I am the only one that can do it, and my mom is still banging. She is telling me through the door, that if I call 911 that they will take me away from her forever. That I won’t ever see her again, that I will go to foster-care, that they will take me away. I close my eyes tightly, I tell Debbie that I am hanging up now, she makes me promise to call her back as soon as I get off the phone with 911. A deep breath, and I hit the off button. Bang! Bang! Bang! They will take you away! I won’t ever see you again! Don’t you love your mom? I press the phone button, Bang! I press 9. Bang! Savannah! Don’t you do it! I press 1 and 1 again. 911, what is your emergency? There is something wrong with my mom. I think she took too many pills. Please come. I am all alone with her. Minutes later someone arrives, I don’t know if it is the police, the ambulance, my sister or a neighbor. But I am not alone anymore and I can come out of the bathroom. I don’t remember coming out. But I remember feeling the responsibility of having called the cops on my mom. That I could still feel the tears dripping down my face. Shanea hugs me. It is her old bathrobe that I am wearing. We hadn’t been close before, I actually had bugged her all my life. But she held me and took me with her. I don’t know what happened to my mom after that. Did she stay in the hospital overnight? Did my dad come home? I don’t know.

 

With so much time to spare the last week or so (quarantine still going on), I have had some time to do some things that I have put off for a number of years. I bought some photo albums a few months ago, and instead of using one for each of my kids, I decided to go through all of my old pictures and put them in. They aren't chronological. I don't have the patience or time to do that, but they are childhood, youth/teen years, and early marriage. Going through all of these photos made me really reflect on some of the people from my past and the way I handled them. I have about 100 pictures of me and Tami Greaves throughout all of junior high, and then she just drops off. We had a strong love/hate relationship and I really didn't forgive her til I was well into my late 20's. Kind of sad that I spent so much time and energy on disliking a person. If I saw her now, I would feel so differently. I wouldn't even care about the stupid ways we treated each other because we were kids. We were stupid.

Even more stupid is the way I completely disregarded Caleb's feelings after I got married. I was on such a high, and still so green to married life, that I felt like I was still single. I still loved him when I married Brad. Don't get me wrong, I KNEW that Brad was the man for me.

But I have harbored so much guilt and anxiety about him. Going through those old pictures, I found some of the notes he had written me, and I know that we truly had a strong love for each other. I really thought I was going to marry him until I met Brad. But my love for Brad swept me up so strongly and quickly, that I was completely soaked in it. I didn't even comprehend that I would hurt Caleb. I just assumed he would be over me. And I wasn't even over him.

I got married to Brad 3 weeks before he came home, and I had the audacity to show up to his homecoming with my new husband. Brad hung back. He met him, and I pulled Caleb aside and cried and told him I was sorry. He told me that I did what I had to do, and I agreed. I can still hear the bitterness in is words, but I didn't hear it in his voice. I was too self involved.

I tried to be his friend after that. ( I am shaking my head at my own stupidity as I write this). I still cared for him so much that I thought we could be just friends. I stopped by his house once, when Brad was working late. I told him I didn't want to go home. I am sure this led him on. And I stupidly though I was being innocent. I am sure it made him so angry and uncomfortable. Foolish.

Why am I writing about this now? Almost 20 years later? Because it haunts me. I still dream about him. I dream about his wife. I dream about how they hate and despise me.

I truly thought I was being a nice person. As a now grown woman, I can see what a fool I was. How I came across as cruel and hurtful. I really didn't mean it. And now it is much too late to apologize or make things right.

When we were still young, we went to a young married ward for our church. It was for Weber State students. Caleb and his new wife Becky started coming to the ward. It was awkward, but most of the time we didn't see them. We said hi in the halls and awkwardly moved on. As time went on Becky started talking to me on myspace. I thought she wanted to be my friend. She asked me personal questions and I answered them, and I asked them back. I wanted to know what they were like and she wanted to know what I was like. I thought we were on our way to becoming couple friends. I was so wrong. It went down badly. There were hurt feelings. I told her I didn't want to be friends anymore. We left the ward. I was so embarrassed for assuming that everything was okay between all of us. Caleb didn't want us to be friends. Becky was chatting with me behind his back. I found out that Becky had talked to our bishop about the whole situation. We moved out and that was the end of it.

When we bought our first house, Caleb's little brother lived up the street. We became friends because we had babies at the same time. This hurt Caleb and Becky. She said something on social media and my friend told me about it and I called her out. It was a bad situation. And so stupid, and I was angry. What was I doing to them? But now, now I can see. I can see that I should have left well enough alone. I should have not tried to stay friends with his brother. I just grew to love his family so much while he was on his mission. I developed such strong relationships with his brothers, and his mom and dad. I really thought at the time that they were going to be my in-laws and I wanted them to like me. I had a hard time letting that go. Especially after coming in to Brad's family. His mom didn't like me, didn't approve of our marriage. It wasn't the same. I was almost as heartbroken about losing his family as I was about losing him. Probably more so. So I tried to hold on.

Time went on and I would run into Caleb and Becky occasionally. I knew through the grapevine that they were having trouble getting pregnant, my heart hurt for them. I had my baby and loved him so much. When Derrick's wife told me she was pregnant, I did what I thought would make peace. I bought a gift and left it at Caleb's parents house. (OMH..... Why couldn't I just leave it alone???) Why did I feel this need to make things right between us? They hated me.... And I couldn't stop. I don't know why.

Back when all of the myspace garbage was going on, and before we left the ward, I called Becky. Why I had her number, I don't know. I wondered why Caleb looked like I had slapped him when I mentioned our chats to her in passing at church. Turned out she had been dishonest with him and he didn't know we were talking. I was mortified. I felt like the other woman in their relationship. She proceeded to tell me that we came to their wedding, uninvited, and nearly ruined their wedding day...

How this catastrophe happened, that I didn't even know was a big deal in my naivete, was this:
We did not get a paper invitation. But Brad ran into Kathy (Caleb's mom) at the doctors office. She asked if we were coming to the wedding and he asked when and where? She invited my husband. I remember asking Amber if we should go and she was hesitant to say yes. I on the other hand, felt at my wedding the more the merrier and again stupidly assumed that everyone felt that way. So we went. Gift in hand. Walked right up to the happy couple and ruined their night by asking about our invitation getting lost in the mail. We hugged them, told them congrats and left. But it left a major impact. What to us was an innocent moment of celebration was a slap in the face to them. I can see it so clearly now. But back then, I didn't. I didn't see it at all.

We ran into them a few times over the years, and this once upon a time love of my life wouldn't even look me in the face. I can't blame him. And at the time I couldn't understand. But I see it now. I was so carefree, so careless. I played with emotions unknowingly that I never should have even been a part of. I have truly lived with regret for years, even when I couldn't see what I had done wrong. Time has given me insight to things I could not understand before.

The last time I ran into them, was on a Fourth of July at the park. They both could bear to look at me. For that I am grateful. I am truly sorry for the hurt and the pain that I caused them.

For a long time I have wondered if the love that Caleb and I shared was all in my head. Because I knew he hated me so vehemently. How could someone I loved so much hate me so badly? I am glad I happened upon a few of those old notes and letters. I don't have most of them, but I have a few, and they reminded me that I wasn't crazy, that we really did care deeply for each other. I just didn't see for a very long time how much hurt I had caused. I am hoping to let these things finally go.

I think in another life I could have married Caleb and I could have been happy. If I wouldn't have gone on this one last blind date that I was set up on, it probably would have worked out. But I have changed so much. Learned so much. I just don't know.

Just a Wednesday

Except it wasn't. Life has been a little unpredictable lately. The COVID-19 virus has interrupted our lives. The schools have closed down, work has closed down, we are working from home. It is very weird to be doing everything from home and having everyone home. And it isn't like we can go out and do fun things and play with friends. We have to be distant from people so that this virus doesn't spread because the mortality rate is fairly high and we don't want anyone who has health conditions to get it. Anyway, it is all consuming. It started last week and since then things have spiraled. Only drive through windows are open, there is no toilet paper, people (including me and my friend Valerie) wait in line for an hour to get into Costco. Shelves are empty. There is a feeling of unease and anxiety and possibly fear in the air. And yet, our lives are still going on. In order to combat the cabin fever, me and my friend Valerie have been hanging out and letting our kids get together. It is just too hard to stay away from everyone. We went to the park yesterday and the kids had a blast climbing through the dirt and looking for the Leprechaun (yesterday was St. Patricks Day). It was a nice break from the uncertainty that has been plaguing all of us. A couple of weeks ago, we thought nothing of this virus and bought tickets to go to Maui to see Kevin at the end of April. I hope that can happen still, because rumor has it that school will be closed until at least April 20th. I am trying to get the kids all set up to do some home schooling stuff, but it is tough.
This morning, I was asleep in my bed and I felt thunder radiating through our house, it was shaking and it wasn't stopping. In my stupor I woke and realized we were experiencing an earthquake. I shook Brad awake and we ran to the kitchen, as I was about to run down the stairs to get Reese and Jovi, they ran up and by the time they got here it was over. Ace slept through it. It was a 5.9 earthquake and the strangest sensation. I have known living in Utah my whole life that it was a possibility, but I had never experienced it. There wasn't any damage to us or anyone we know. Thank heavens. But the whole week has just felt surreal. I hope it is all just incidental and nothing more comes of all of this. I just wanted to put down my thoughts as they happened. It is so odd that while we are in the midst of these crises, our daily rituals carry on. We do the dishes, eat food, watch TV. We have our creature comforts amid all of the chaos that is creeping in. There were a few aftershocks that were a little nerve-wracking, through all of it, we are fine.
I also have this weird lump on my foot. It came out of nowhere and tomorrow I have to go and get an MRI on it. I am sure it is nothing, but it is just one more thing that is causing a little bit of anxiety.