Is it hope, or faith?

I believe that I have basically spent the last year in fear. There were more years of fear before this, but they weren't quite as full of it as this one. On April 29, 2010, Ethan entered the hospital for the first time, in an attempt to deal with his substance abuse and any related mental health issues. He was 14. That day, as I walked out to the parking lot with his enormous shoes (he couldn't have them in there) and a stack of papers, I thought it could never get any worse. I felt alone, scared, anxious, sad, guilty, and about a million other things. I wondered if I was doing the right thing. I cried, and cried, and cried. I was leaving my baby there, and I had no idea what was going to happen. The only thing that kept me going was hope, and I had that because he voluntarily allowed himself to be admitted. I was proud of him for that, and it gave me hope that he would benefit from this.

From that point, I had to switch over to faith. Faith that he would get better. Faith that whatever it was going to take, it would be best in the end. Faith and prayer.

20 days later, he was sent home with 10 medications, a million diagnoses, and a very nervous mother. He had also picked up some bad habits while in there. However, what could I do but have hope that it would be an improvement and we could get on with life. Unfortunately, I didn't have a lot of faith that was going to be the case. So, five days later, Ethan came to me and said, "Mom, I don't think I was finished yet. I need to go back." The next day we checked him back in. Turns out he just wanted a few days off so he could get high for a while and had every intention of going back in the first place. Less faith, less hope. But here we go again because . . . what else are we supposed to do?

With every visit ,I felt like things weren't getting better, but were instead slipping away and out of control. What the hell was going on??? I was concerned about the massive amount of medications he was on, but how would I know if he was really suffering from bipolar disorder, ADHD, anxiety, OCD, etc. Can't even remember all the things they listed. After all, the doctors and staff there were supposed to be the ones in the know. I had to just HOPE that they were right. A couple of weeks back in, he revealed some things that he had experienced and been exposed to when we lived in Ohio. Without going into much detail, I can tell you that at the age of 12, he was exposed to evil, violence, and an inescapable obligation . . . oh, and drugs, lots of drugs. I didn't have a clue. He was well trained to appear to be a normal suburban kid. He dressed right, got in trouble for the right things like smoking cigars, ringing doorbells, etc. all so that I wouldn't suspect there was anything worse going on. And I didn't suspect. I knew he had other issues such as a father who had basically never been much of a father, insecurities about his appearance, struggling with math, and all the usual middle school issues.

This information was exposed on Friday, June 4. I went through the weekend trying to process it all and dredge up the hope that maybe we could now get to the root of the problem and begin to correct things. The following Monday night, just 3 days later, I received a call from the hospital checking to make sure I was going to be present at Ethan's mental health hearing Wednesday morning and his discharge to the state hospital in Wichita Falls. What?????????????????? "Do you mean you weren't notified that we had filed on Ethan?" No!!! What the hell does that even mean?????????? What mental health hearing? What discharge? What? What? What? The next 36 hours, if that long, was filled with anxiety, fear, false information, false documents, and a day I thought was most certainly the worst day I would ever experience as a mother. What kept me going over that 36 hours was Ethan. He kept reassuring me, constantly saying, "Mom, you know I need to do this. I'm ok." At the end of that day, I was a complete blubbering ball of mush. There isn't enough space here to write what all I felt, but what picked me up off the ground was faith. I didn't even know what to hope for, and I couldn't focus it, but faith, that was absolutely ALL I had to lean on. And off went Ethan to 3 months in the state hospital.

I remained faithful, but somewhat hopeless throughout that summer. All of the treatment he'd received was for mental health, and once in Wichita Falls, I discovered that that campus didn't have an adolescent substance abuse program. Navigating the mental health system is a nightmare!! I was a complete rookie and had many misfires. Throughout, I only had faith. I had lost a lot of hope. I knew he wasn't getting all of the right kind of help that he needed, but there did seem to be a little progress in dealing with the PTSD related to the Ohio stuff. The plan was that when he was released from the state hospital, Ethan would enter a substance abuse program to work on that component. Sounds logical, right? Only one problem, on top of the complete lack of adolescent treatment programs, especially dual-diagnosis programs, the ones that are out there wouldn't take him because he hadn't "used" in the last 30 days and therefore, insurance wouldn't likely cover it for them. No shit he hasn't used in the last 30 days!!! He's been in the fucking state hospital you idiots!!! At one point, my frustration was so high that I asked one of the intake people if I should just go buy him some pot so he would qualify. That's how crazy it was. In the end, he was released and came home, with no program in place. This couldn't be the right thing, I thought, and lost a lot of faith. Instead, I could only hope.

It didn't take him long to go back to the lifestyle he felt most comfortable in. From September, when he came home, until Thanksgiving, things got steadily worse. By the week after Thanksgiving, it had reached a dangerous point and I was downright scared. Scared to death! That was when I discovered he had been hoarding his medication to take as he pleased in the amounts and when he wanted, and was also using it to get what he wanted instead from others. When confronted with this, and told we were going to have to find a treatment program, he became violent. He was high, and remembers very little of what happened, but he threw things at me, broke things, trashed what he could before the police arrived. Once again, I thought it couldn't possibly get any worse than this. Ethan was back in the hospital. Ok, have to dredge up some more faith and hope if I can find them.

Needless to say, that hospitalization didn't help either. Same story, diagnose him immediately and throw a bunch of meds at him. The incredibly arrogant ass of a doctor even told me he had "cured" Ethan in the first day or two. Right . . . . Two weeks later, he was home. I was scared. I knew it wasn't right, but wasn't given any choices. Ethan had now been in the hospital 4 times, but none had dealt with the substance abuse issue. He'd been hospitalized, but not rehabed. Things went downhill again by January, and kept spiraling downward more and more rapidly. After 4 hospitalizations, two psychiatrists outside of the hospital, incredibly thorough psychological and brain testing, and about $30k, Ethan didn't seem to be any better, and was possibly even worse. I was terrified that he would not survive himself, but there seemed to be nothing else I could do to help him if he wasn't going to help himself. Natural consequences were going to have to catch up with him, but I was so very afraid it might be too late. I had no way to control him at all. It was horrible, frustrating, frightening, every anxious moment was rooted in fear. I rapidly lost hope and faith. I prayed a lot through this last year, but in the last couple of months, I was actually praying for him to get arrested. Probation was the only thing I thought might save him.

Then finally, it happened. He was truant, as usual, and when he was picked up, he had some prescription meds on him, but they weren't his. Bingo!!! They brought him up to my school to bring me in and confirm his story, and he was arrested. As odd as it may sound unless you've been there, I was greatly relieved! When the court decided to keep him for 2 weeks, I was hopeful. Probation! Yea!!! Perhaps that, and a couple of weeks in juvenile detention, would scare him into soberness. The judge even sent Ethan's father a summons to appear at the next hearing. I admit to some satisfaction at seeing him have to finally act a little responsible for his son. Then, 2 more weeks while they did the evaluations, etc. Finally, people were listening to me. They were shocked at what all we had tried to do and what had happened. The probation officer completely "got it" and began the process of keeping him safe! I found hope again, and my faith grew. I actually trusted that these people were going to get him the help he needed. This meeting with the probation officer was exactly a year to the day, April 29th, of Ethan's first hospitalization.

So, here we are today. At today's hearing, he was ordered detained until a space opens at the program. That placement is typically a minimum 45-60 day placement. If he needs more beyond that, he will go to additional long term care for 6-9 months. It's hard to think of him away for so long, but I'd rather have him away for a long time, and maybe even angry at me for years to come, than not here at all. I need Ethan alive, and I have faith and hope that he can do this, no matter how long it takes. That wonderful child many of us remember is still in there. He will be scarred, but he can come back.

So what is hope? What is faith? They are two different things. In this case, faith has been when I have little else to lean on and need to believe that what is happening is right for the purpose it serves, whether I like it or understand it, or not. Hope is when you believe there is a future, and it will be good. Tonight, with the blessing of Ethan's cooperation, I have both. I have faith that our journey together is serving a purpose, and I so want to help any other family going through something similar. It's the worst nightmare. I have faith that Ethan can come through this and put all of these experiences to good use. I also have hope for the future, and for happiness for all of us. I also pray . . . . a lot!