Torn

It happened. He called. My son called last night when we were out to dinner.  "Hi mom, it's me".  I always find that funny, even now...I think after 24 years, I pretty much know that when I receive a call that starts out with "Hi Mom" I know who it is.

The phone call was pretty much benign.  I asked where he was and what was up (the usual) and my son told me was out of detox and back in rehab and 'could I please put money on his books'.  Books? I asked, thinking it sounded more like jail.  No, he explained they are not allowed to have any money and the facility handles the procurement of toiletries, cigarettes, etc.

I am torn. Part of me wants to jump up and help him. The other part of me, not so much.  I want him to learn that I am not going to enable his recurring 5-star resort rehab recurrences.  I want more than anything for him to be clean but I think this time it is going to be 'too bad and so sad'. Sarcasm? No, not at all. Reality? Yes, totally. Real in the sense that cigarettes are a privilege, not a right. A tooth brush on the other hand, I will ante up for.

He is going to have to work really hard to earn my trust again.  I will have his back until the end of days but I will no longer play into his woes.

I am learning too. It's not easy, but nothing ever worth it is, is it?