Once I accepted that the slip-up with the drug test was a little knock-at-the-door from my annoying friend, reality, I was able to sleep. My reality is the fact that this journey has only just begun. (And calling it a “journey” is an optimists way of saying it’s an “extended nightmare that occurs when one is awake.”) When you mix teenage angst with the battle of substance abuse, you are fighting an ugly, exhausting, painful, and just plain destructive opponent.
Luckily, I came to this realization last night because what was waiting for me this morning was ugly and disappointing. He’s back on Facebook. I read the comments he and his friends made about him being near weapons, and I was disgusted. M and 11 “friends” carried on for a few hours last night about his antics in the military academy.
Anger brewed stronger than the coffee that I was too upset to drink. I am so tired of this. Why do kids write such gross things on Facebook? I don’t get it; it’s certainly not because I have forgotten to tell him not to do it. It’s not like I haven’t dropped a few hundred hints of the potential negative effects. He’s heard the lecture in so many places: in front of the computer, with his cell phone in my hands, from the podium at an all-school assembly, from the front of a classroom, from the front seat of the car, and even during a “bonding” moment at Chipotle.
Traditional parenting techniques to keep him safe and healthy have not worked. It’s imperative that we continue to try new things to get his attention. If I don’t do everything in my power to protect him from himself, then I’m afraid I’ll have regrets. And I don’t want that.