The Playground

        Today as I was waiting in a school line, I was in the line near the playground. I was watching all of these little innocent children running, jumping, playing and laughing with their friends. They didn't appear to have a care in the world. I sat there staring aimlessly at them thinking, "some of those sweet babies will end up making horrible choices and their paths will drastically change." That is absolutely heartbreaking. Statistically 1 out of 4 of them will suffer from addiction in their lifetime and will begin using drugs between the age of 15-18 years old. Those statistics are spot on. Exactly. Our life in a nutshell. My family is among those statistics. Statistics that I would have never paid attention to, never thought about, and never dreamed would become an interesting topic or passion in my life. I felt as every other parent does..."It won't happen to MY child."

       When I was a young mom, I had no idea that my children would face the types of temptations that are in the world today. I had no idea that my sweet, blonde, happy girl would someday become a drug addict. She played on that same playground I saw today. She was one of those same happy little children, running around with her friends. Oh how I wish I had the knowledge back then that I have now. Oh how I wish.  Sometimes I feel so frustrated with other parents that continue to fail to see the signs, or don't act on them when they do see them. I feel like I am screaming into a well at times and only hearing my own voice echoing back at me. Sometimes I feel like a broken record. Sometimes I feel that no one is listening. Other times, I feel that everyone is listening and I have no answers. I wish I had more answers for those who do need help when they do reach out to me.

       As this new school year begins, I challenge you to pay more attention. I challenge you to lock up your medications. I challenge you to pay attention to who they are hanging around with, who they associate with online and I challenge you to dispose of your prescription drugs. I challenge you to NOT let your kids spend the night at the house that "their parents say it's OK to smoke pot" and "stay out all night" and I challenge you to become pro-active in PREVENTING your child from becoming a statistic. I challenge you to get active in your child's school district and if your school doesn't have a student organization such as "Students Against Destructive Decisions" like Joplin has---that YOU start one at your school. I challenge YOU to be the proactive force that helps bring more awareness to your own child's playground.

      The playground should be a happy place, free from danger. The playground is where they start to learn to pick their battles. The playground is the place where friends are made, lessons are learned and it is where their personalities start to ascend. When the playground starts changing into sporting events, dances, driving, and other teen activities, then your control starts to diminish and your child must make choices in your absence. Start planting that seed now. Start teaching about choices and making good ones. It is never too early.

      Let's all protect our children's playgrounds and make them safer for everyone's child. I challenge you. Whether it's your school, your yard, the skating rink, the gym...whatever the arena your child is playing, be aware of the surroundings and their playmates. Take the precautions to protect them now so they can protect themselves later so they don't become a statistic. It CAN happen to your child. It WILL happen to someone's. Will you look the other way or will you try to make a difference?

     

     

My Birthday Blessings

I turned the big 4-6 today. Ugh, that sounds old. I can remember when turning 30 felt old. Now I have a 26 year old who is only 4 years from that milestone. Where does the time go??? In the blink of an eye, life has flown by--even when there were moments that time stood still, it was still moving.

Today I had a great day. I've cut wayyyyy back in my legal job. Pretty much non-existent, thanks to some wonderful women who have stepped into my shoes. It has allowed me to follow my true passion, which is drug awareness. I've been so fortunate to get involved with the Alliance of Southwest Missouri. They have taken my drug campaign and turned it into a level I never dreamed possible. Newton County Coalition and the Alliance have taken my crazy whims or ideas and have turned them into incredible public service announcements, posters and now billboards. Every time something else comes to fruition, I feel like I could cry like a baby. I feel like "finally--people GET it."

To top all of that off, tomorrow we are having a joint tailgate at Carl Junction, which they are playing the high school my two oldest graduated from--the Webb City Cardinals. Big rivalry. Huge crowd. We got donations to create 400 t-shirts (200 for each school) and it's our chance to get kids to come to the booth to get information about drugs, alcohol and other life changing choices. I'm so honored CJ is doing this for kids. It literally makes me tear up thinking about it.

Also today, one of my first phone calls was from my daughter. I was in the shower, so she left me a voicemail. "Just wanted to wish you a happy birthday, Mom. I love you."  I played it about ten times. I can't even tell you when the last time she remembered my birthday, Mother's Day, her stepdad's birthday or any other occasion. She sounds great. I miss her. Can't wait to see her again. She starts college online Monday. She is excited. I'm excited for her and so thankful for the opportunity she has to begin again.

My birthday could not have been better because all 3 of my babies are safe, sound, happy and secure. The BEST blessing I could ever ask for---and I feel so thankful. Granted, I didn't see the two oldest today, which is okay. My son is making his coaching debut tomorrow for high school football. He is a positions coach and his real job is an accountant and I couldn't be more proud of him. Go Wildcats! My precious daughter-in-law began her first day teaching 1st grade today and I'm so proud of her. My Addi is an enrolled college student and studying her Bible regularly and continually prays for me and my shortcomings and I'm so proud of her. My 4 year old is getting ready for preschool on Wednesday and he is hilarious and makes me laugh multiple times per day. With the Olympics on, me and my husband have to stop and put our hands on our hearts when the USA wins a gold medal and they play the Star Spangled Banner. He is quite the patriot. I'm proud of him too. Life is great.

Thank you for all the birthday wishes. I am blessed and I know it.

A Mom's Plea to Stop the Methadone Clinic Nightmare

I am the mother of a drug addict.  It's really painful to write that, because my son is so much more than that.  He is my handsome, loving, smart, and wildly funny boy I raised.  He is also a friend, a brother, a grandson, a nephew, the "big cousin", and he is a father, without his children because of drugs.

He was such a great kid in High School.  He was the kid other parents wanted their kid to hang out with.  He was well liked, and loved to play football, held down decent grades and a job.  He decided not to go to college right away.  So instead, he landed a great job as a driver recruiter for Conway Trucking.  By 21 he had a beautiful daughter, and bought his first house.  He was really going places!  We were so proud..... and we were ignorant.  Ignorant in believing that our job was nearly done.  Ignorant in believing that drugs happen to other families, not ours.  Ignorant about keeping prescriptions locked up.  Also ignorant in not knowing the signs of drug abuse.

Shortly after moving into the new house, he and his girlfriend broke up, she took the baby and moved out, rightly so.  Not long after that, he had "friends" hanging around we didn't know.  Then two roommates moved in, guys we had never met.  Things were spiraling out of control.  About 6 mos. into it, one of his "friends" called us at around 1am to report they couldn't wake him up.  We lived only about a mile away, and flew over there in seconds.  There were drunk/drugged out kids everywhere, and no one had even called an ambulance!  I ran to his room where I find my son, my baby, laying on his back, his eyes wide open and fixed on the ceiling, and only breathing a deep snoring breath every once in awhile.  With my sons head in my lap, and my phone propped between my ear and shoulder I called 911 while beating his chest and begging him to just breath one more time, until help arrived.  That was his 1st OD, 7 years ago.

The past 7 years have been a living nightmare.  We've had recoveries and relapses.  We've had binges that have lasted weeks.  We've had hundreds of sleepless nights, and I seriously can't remember the last time a Friday came to start the weekend where I wasn't petrified until Monday would come with the sweet relief that he has lived through another weekend.

Three years ago, we were in another binge cycle.  He was looking pretty rough, and we barely ever had a conversation that didn't include paranoia and delusions.  I was absolutely sure that we didn't have much more time left with him, weeks, maybe a couple months.  He called one evening and asked us to come over, that he had a big decision to make.  We had spoken to him several times about going into rehab.  We prayed all the way to his house that his "big decision" had something to do with rehab.  When we got there, one of his "friends" was there.  We knew this kid, he and our son had grown up and played little league together.  We had seen this kid really go downhill because of drugs.  He looked good though, he'd gained some weight, his color was pretty good, he was talking clearer, and he just seemed to have a little of his spark back.  He started to tell us about a new rehab in Joplin.  BHG.  It's a new "program" called Medically Assisted Treatment, or MATs.  It's where they give you a daily dose of Methadone, Suboxone or another drug like it to wean you off opiates/heroin.  We couldn't help but be excited.  We've been living a nightmare for years, and our son brought this to us, as an option he could do.  So, we made an appointment with BHG, we went with him to support him and show some family solidarity.  We even paid for getting the whole thing started.  There is a sea of regrets I swim in daily, but that one is huge!  We ACTUALLY paid money to get our son deeper into addiction!

He has been a paying customer ($75 a week, upfront.  Not covered by any medical insurance) of BHG for 3 years.  Not once have they tried to wean him off, quite the contrary, they have told him that he will be on this "medicine" for life!  And God help him, because he believes that!  That is not rehab.  That is legally selling drugs to fragile people who are sick and don't have the financial means to go into real treatment. Treatment that would address the mental illness factor that’s an underlying cause of almost all addicts. That is unacceptable!  My son has been under BHG care for 3 years, that's nearly $12,000 so far.  Here's what he gets for that kind of money:

He has slid off the rails several times under their care.  In March (just 5 months ago) was his latest binge.  He had been using massive amounts of steroids, three weeks in his “cycle” he has a psychotic break.  Gets crazy paranoid and has hallucinations.  So he then goes for benzo type drugs (ie. xanax) to get a handle on it.  When that doesn't work he just keeps adding drugs.  Seriously, go onto one of the Trem forums, they actually suggest taking Molly or Meth to tone down the schizophrenic behavior.  I called the police to please come get him, I'm afraid he's going to kill himself or someone else because he's hallucinating that people are trying to kill him.  I'm told they can't do anything until he does something. I have to wonder if that’s what was said to the movie theater shooter’s family who tried desperately to get him help before the tragedy.   Long story short, nearly one week later, the police sent a swat team to go in after him, because the neighbor said he heard gunfire.  They arrest him on a couple minor traffic  bench warrants.  He is out of his head, talking about bearded women and green stretchy men in his house torturing him and trying to kill him.  The police take him to jail, instead of a hospital?  I still can not understand that!  I called at least 3 times explaining to them that while he is on drugs right now, he had a psychotic break the week before, he needs to go to the hospital.  The police keep him nearly the full 24hrs.  When he hasn't came down, and their psych eval can't say for certain if it's a drug problem or a mental problem, they call me, say they are taking him to the hospital, that he's not under arrest. (Then what was the last 23 and a half hours in jail all about?) I get to the hospital and discover he now has a broken hand, and the police literally just dropped him off at the door.  After further testing he can't be cleared for detox because he's very dehydrated, his kidneys were shutting down, and his liver was in bad shape.  I have to fill out an affidavit to have him committed for at least 96 hrs. One of the hardest things I've ever had to do as a mother.  He's eventually released from the hospital into Freeman Hospitals Stevens Unit for mental eval.  I'm assured that he'll be there at least a week because his 96hrs didn't start until he got there, on a Friday, and weekends don't count.  That Monday I get a phone call that he's being released.  Turns out Dr. Saba runs the Stevens Unit, AND also runs BHG, the methadone clinic.  Since she has been "treating" him for 3 years, she “knows” him, thus essentially making my affidavit just a piece of blank paper, tossed  away.  That’s what he gets for nearly $12,000 over the past 3 years, a drug pusher who gets him out of a jam to ensure she doesn’t lose a customer.

 

How is it possible, or legal for a doctor who evaluates drug patients at a Freeman Hospital Mental Unit, is also the same doctor who runs the clinic who sells drugs to addicts?  This begs the question, what kind of kickbacks does Dr. Saba and Freeman Hospital get from the drug companies producing these drugs?  Who at Freeman Hospital made the call that she could do both? Are BHG, Freeman Hospital, and The Ozark Center owned and/or managed by the same group?  Why is Freeman Hospital and the Ozark Center the only option in Joplin for mental health services?  Yes, Mercy’s Hawthorne Center has services for acute situations, but once your loved one is released, the only follow up care in Joplin is through Freeman/Ozark Center.  The only exception being if you have great insurance or can pay in full out of pocket, then you can avoid the Freeman snare. But how fair is that in a city whose median household income is $38,192, and where 15.8% of Joplin residents live below the federal poverty line, where most of the addiction and mental health care is needed?

These MAT clinics DO NOT WORK!  It's common sense.  You don't give an alcoholic a shot of whiskey every morning to be functional and call it a cure.  These MAT clinics are set up to look like a medical facility, but they are just privately owned businesses selling their product.  As usual, our government is jumping all over this idea as a viable option because it's the easy way out.  Addicts in recovery, real recovery, abstaining from all drugs, will tell you over and over again that these clinics are a scam for money and actually kept them in the addiction longer.

I just have one question for you Mr/Ms Lawmaker.  If you were to walk into your child's room, and they were unconscious with a needle in their arm, would sending them to a storefront  business, in a strip mall, where they buy a methadone fix everyday, for $75.00 a week, just to keep them "functional" be a real treatment option for you and your family?  I’m guessing not. Because it’s every bit as crazy as it sounds.

We can, and MUST do better for everyone involved!  Please help me find some reasonable solutions for this ever growing problem.  This isn’t a class problem anymore.  This isn’t a race problem anymore.  This isn’t a generational problem anymore.  This isn’t a junkie problem anymore.  This is everyone’s problem now.

Sincerely,

Michele (A Southwest Missouri Mom)

The Day Pass...Our 8 Hours of "Wonderful"

Last Saturday, Addi had her first day pass. Me, my mom, my son and his wife all drove to visit her for her 8 hour pass. She got this privilege because she has been in treatment for 4 months. She has been clean 148 days today. I found this nifty website that I can input her first clean day and it calculates it for me. Thank God. I was really having a hard time adding the days accurately. I wish I would have thought to check online two months ago. I cannot complain though. My fingers happily added up the time on the calendar. Sometimes it feels like just yesterday that I was driving her to treatment and I had zero faith. Today, it feels like I have given birth to a new child. My child. The funny one. The smart and witty one. The one I remember.

I admit it was a strange feeling taking her in my car. I felt like I was stealing her in a way. I also felt a sense of nervousness. "Would this trigger something, seeing all of us outside of her safe haven?" When we knocked on the door, she came to the door dressed like a doll and her hair was fixed so pretty. She looked like she had prepared for a special date. I had to sign her out like she was in grade school again and acknowledgement that we understood that she would be tested for drugs upon her return. I thought to myself, "Isn't it sad that they even have to do this? Why on earth would anyone take their loved one out of a treatment center on a day pass and take them to do drugs?"  Can you imagine the selfishness, stupidity and irresponsibility? It happens though, or they wouldn't have the rules.

We met her brother and his wife at a restaurant to begin our visit. She hadn't seen her little brother since he became a married man. I'll be honest--the rest of us were chopped liver at that point...she wanted to see him. She was dying to see him. She could hardly stand it. I think she almost knocked over his tall self when she jumped into his arms for a big hug. She was also happy to see her new sister in law. She says that missing their wedding has been one of the lowest times she has had during her 4 months inpatient.

We had lunch and then decided to take her shopping. We decided to go to the mall. It was sort of a scary concept and I tried not to seem paranoid, but at times I am sure it showed. She had pawned a majority of her belongings and has been living with clothes that the rest of us could "spare" and a few items we have purchased since she has been there. She isn't the same pale, thin, sickly looking girl with a painful looking and damaged body. I hadn't seen her in sleeveless clothes in a long time, but she had on a short sleeved shirt and her arms looked so good. She even showed me her back, where she has allowed it to see some sunshine and her wounds are healed. Scars are fainter. She truly is healing inside and out. Our first stop was a bookstore. She wanted to look at some motivational and Christian books. She reads and studies so much now, that she has re-established her love of reading. I have all of her old books in the attic from when she moved out the very first time. I just found them the other day. She loved Nicholas Sparks and things like that. I am glad I was smart enough to box them up and put them away several years ago. I'm also glad that she has discovered reading again and how much she loves it.

My daughter in law was a God send when we went shopping. She worked in retail in college, so she was able to find items that looked so good on Addi. Things that I couldn't imagine picking out. Me and my mom have similar personalities and although we have the best of intentions, sometimes our words come out wrong. Addi asked me really sweetly, "Mom, could Jordan just help me?" It was a kind way of saying "You and Nina are killing my confidence."  She expected nothing from us, never asked for anything--so it felt good to do things for her. It felt appreciated.

I found myself constantly watching her every move. Was she checking out dudes at the mall? Was she eyeing the exits? Was she feeling like she wouldn't want to go back? I saw none of those signs. I don't even think she noticed there were men at the mall other than her brother. I don't think she noticed there were people at the mall other than her family. She was happy. She was revived. She was so glad to be with us.

The eight hours cruised by quickly. When it was time to take her back, I felt sort of sad. I kept thinking of the line in Steel Magnolias when Sally Field buries her daughter and goes ballistic at the cemetery. "I can jog all the way to Texas and back, but my daughter can't! She never could!" I sort of feel that way sometimes. I feel "Why can't I enjoy dinner, shopping, and go to a movie and not feel that she will disappear back into the dark night?"  Will that feeling ever go away? Will I ever feel safe?" It's only been 148 days. In due time, if she keeps moving forward, I hope the fear subsides. I hope that she gets the strength to be able to ignore any bit of temptation to lead her back to that life.   On the other hand, I feel like the line Julia Roberts says in that movie "I'd rather have 30 minutes of wonderful than a lifetime of nothing special."  We have had a lot of special moments in our lives--but now I see these days with my daughter as blessings. I see each day she is clean as a gift. I see her life as a wonderful, beautiful gift to me. I cherish every 30 minutes of wonderful she gives us.

I'm already counting down to our next visit and our next 30 minutes of wonderful.

My Advice to Freshman Parents

Today I dropped off drug awareness posters at more schools. Today, I stopped off at Webb City. Home of the Cardinals. Home of great athletics and academics. Known for their sports, although in my opinion, their academics are just as stellar. Home of so many of my friends that I can't begin to even name them. Home of where my children went to school.

As I pulled into the driveway of Webb City High School, my heart sort of sank. I remembered going there for orientation with both my son and daughter for their Freshman years and they were both so excited, yet nervous to be the underclassman. It felt like that was just yesterday, but it was nine years ago that I had my last Freshman walk into that school. It looks very much the same, and as I walked to the office, I could feel myself starting to tear up. I found myself thinking about my little blonde girl who started there in 2004.  She was so excited to pick her locker, so excited to see her classrooms, her schedule, etc. She was just so excited. I was so excited for her. She had such a beautiful smile, beautiful promise and sweet disposition. She was my little doll. I had no idea that her life would take such a spiral in the coming years.

I left the posters with the office staff, who were very nice. I think I even said something about wanting to cry being in that building. As I walked out, I got into my car and sat there and cried. What could I say to parents who are beginning this journey with their kids this year? Not just at Webb City, but at every high school across this nation. At the age of 15, kids are so vulnerable, so gullible, so naive and so impressionable. It is a crucial time in their life. They aren't old enough to drive, but old enough to hang around with those that do. They aren't old enough to car date (mine wasn't allowed at that age)--but old enough to be in class every day with kids who were. They want to fit in, and sometimes they don't care the cost.

As a parent, this is a time that your attention needs to be on high alert with your children. This is the age that they will make life altering decisions that can change their entire future. This is the age that they will begin to mold their future. Oh, I wish I could go back to that moment in 2004. I wish I could have put a little bubble around her heart, mind and spirit. I wish I would have put more boundaries on her. I wish I would have grounded her more when she started to get out of line. I wish I would have done so many small things that maybe could have shaped her world differently. I can't go back in time---but you can start right now if this is YOUR child's Freshman year.

Please heed my advice:

Pay attention to their friends.

Pay attention to their social media. Know their passwords  and if they refuse- take it away.

Pay attention to who befriends them on social media. Know the "ins and outs" of the social media out there today. Your Freshman shouldn't be on Tinder or dating sites. If you don't know what Tinder is--look it up.

Restrict their phone usage during school hours and at night--and download smart limits if you don't have it. Pay attention to their text messages. Know their phone password too.

Pay attention to their sleep patterns. If they start changing--ask why.

Pay attention to their normal every day appearance. Do they start changing their look? Less concern about their personal appearance? Change of style? Change of hygiene? Change of hobbies?

Pay attention and talk. Eat dinner together. Sit and talk about their day. Don't take "I don't know" or "Nothing" for an answer.

KNOW THEIR FRIENDS AND THEIR PARENTS. Do not just trust them to be in the home of anyone else and don't feel bad that you follow up to ensure they are where they say. If a friend's parent doesn't have the same rules--then don't let them spend time there. These are your kids, not a popularity contest. If parents are smoking pot and buying booze for kids--then you don't need your child hanging around at their house.

TALK TO OTHER PARENTS. If you sense trouble, talk. Don't talk behind parent's backs. Go to the parents and talk to them openly. Watch out for each other's children, not use them as a source of gossip or a reason to feel you are a better parent. That will burn you, I can promise you.

Watch for signs of trouble. Upon any sign---ask for help.

Know your school counselor's. They are a source of help that very few of us utilize and they see things we don't see every day at school.

AND LAST, but not least---DON'T EVER DOUBT YOUR INSTINCTS. EVER.

Forgiveness and the Number NINE

So today my husband and I went to church. The sermon was fantastic. The youth minister spoke and his message was about welcoming everyone to your "team" or church, even if you may not really want to or may not really "like" them. It was presented in much better terms that that--but you get the point, which is that as Christians, we should love everyone and make them feel included and loved. That is true Christianity. As I sat there, I began to think about my own feelings about certain individuals that I have crossed paths with in life as I have battled to keep my daughter alive. I wondered if it was even in me. I wondered if I should just go throw myself up at the alter right then and say "Halt. No can do. I can forgive maybe that person, but I don't think I can forgive HIM." As I listened and the minister made more valid points, I thought, "Stephanie, you must try to forgive."

I admit, I had avoided going back to church since I blasted it on my blog. I knew that my daughter's ex boyfriend had started going there and I thought "I'm not going to the same church as him. Not happenin." (I know, very Christian-like and mature). I was watching church online, which is great but not nearly the same feeling as being there. I recently found out he was back in jail, so therefore, I felt safe to go again today---and ironically enough, the message was about just that very subject...how it is wrong to want to isolate someone from church. Coincidence, huh? I'm sure there are people at church who don't care for me or care for my drug posters, my bluntness or my strong personality. Does that intimidate me? No. Why should I discourage someone else from attending church? The more I sat there, the more I felt my conscious weighing on me. I decided I was going to the county jail after church, and I was going to deliver some of our drug awareness posters and I was going to drop off a couple of books about addiction and recovery, written by my friend Aaron Michael Garcia and maybe, just maybe, that inmate may see those things and change his path. He weighed on my heart. I prayed for him over and over in church. So--after church, we did just that. As we pulled up to the jail, I looked at the inmate roster. There were NINE people in that county jail that my daughter knew, some she went to school with, some she hung out with, some she did drugs with, and some I have kicked out of my house and vowed to whoop the tar out of them if I ever saw them again. Today, they were all sitting in the county jail. NINE people I personally knew from her life. NINE. I can't even count nine of my friends that have ever even gone to jail for a minute. She had NINE there today.

What in the heck. NINE. How could so many people from a little community, the same group of friends, end up being so absolutely lost. That isn't the totality of it either. That is just the amount in the jail today that I knew. We aren't counting the multitude of friends of theirs who have died because of these choices.

So--I dropped off my posters, with faces of their friends, some gone, some in recovery---and I prayed. I prayed that the familiar faces that they have known and now buried will somehow make an impact on their hearts. I prayed that somehow the faces of the friends they played baseball with, went to school with, dated, or just played tag with in grade school, who are now GONE--would make them remember life before drugs. I prayed that they all could get their heads on straight, break the addiction chain and perhaps be sitting in those pews some day listening to a sermon. I hoped that I could grow in my own Christianity to be able to welcome them and not isolate myself again from the church.

So tonight, I am asking you to say a prayer for those nine people who need a change in their hearts, minds, spirits and lives. They are too young to die. They are too young to give up on. They too have families that love them.

Would I be able to sit next to them at church and welcome them with open arms?  I don't know. I'm working on that one....I'm trying.  I do forgive, but a Momma never forgets.

Fear and Faith

A friend of mine messaged me the other day that her daughter has re-enrolled in college. She is in recovery and this is obviously a huge step in the right direction. We are all so very proud of her. She said "I'm so excited, yet so scared to be excited. Will this feeling ever end?"  I wrote back, "No, I don't think it does."

This morning I woke up with a charlie horse cramp in my leg and from a dream that my daughter lost 100 lbs from the time I saw her earlier this month. I bawled and bawled. Then I got on my phone, scrolling through news feeds to read all the political babble and came across an article which stated that "only 4% of heroin addicts ever get clean."  Wow, thanks for that morning slap in the face.

It's times like this that it is hard when she is so far away that I can't just spring out of bed and go look at her and hug her, or if she lost 100 lbs, I may slap the snot out of her because I would know that evil creature had lurked back into her life. Fear is the most crippling emotion. Your heart stops. Your mind gets consumed and with me, I can hardly think of anything else. I am grateful to the women who work at her treatment center. They are compassionate and understanding. Their mom's have been where I have. They know how I feel. They are always willing to talk to me and to give me reassurance that she is still there, doing well, but anxiously awaiting her first day pass with her family at the end of the month. I am anxiously awaiting her weekly call tonight just so I can hear her voice, and know for myself that "she truly is okay."

The real answer to all of this is that none of it is within my control. She is there because she chose to get help. She has been there for 4 months because she has chosen to stay. She has conquered more of this beast in 4 months than she has in many, many years and that is the thing I must focus on. Her 4th month wouldn't be here if she hadn't started at "day one." Everyone has to start somewhere and sometimes people have to start over. She did, many many times. It's not a matter of how many times you get knocked down...but if you still get up and try again.

I don't think a parent ever truly lets their guard down after this long of a battle. I think it's impossible. I think you learn to live with it and learn to understand that no matter how much you want it for your loved one, you can't do it for them. I've learned to deal with it. I've learned to read, PRAY, read some more, pray some more, sometimes cry and then get myself through my own fears.

So, on a good note today--she is 134 days clean AND she is finishing up enrollment for college, which she will do online for now. I'm proud of her. I know she can do this. I know anyone can do this if they take the steps to do it. Let's blow that 4% stat off the Internet. Let's increase that stat by leaps and bounds to show the world, that this devil won't win. Let's show other people out there wanting help, but feeling helpless, that they CAN win this battle. I hope my daughter, your daughter, your son, your loved one are all the success stories we can read about and know that 4% is a bold face lie.

We can do it.

Awareness is the key. Prevention is the Answer.

Have faith. Have hope. Have dreams.