When Courtney finally understood that we were not going to answer the phone she began to send text messages, mostly to me and some to Ron. The first one was "why was I fired from work." I couldn't believe that she had to ask. Did she really think it was o.k. to just get high on the job, especially a job where you have to drive. Although I was under strict orders not to communicate with her I felt that just a few more things probably needed to be said, and what Ron didn't know wouldn't bother him. I set her a text simply stating that she "should talk to her therapist." The first messages we received from her had no misspellings, however, later that night I received the following: "No one thinks about the pain i have been through u bette not but off my cell i pay for it not you. Dont worry you will newer see of again." Ten minutes later I received "I have no food haunt eatin all day and no cigarettes." I felt miserable. A couple of hours later as I was about to crawl into bed a few minutes after midnight I received "I am walking over there i have eaten nothing today." That did it. I sent a message back "do not come over, I'll get you some cigarettes and something from Whataburger." Well, I though we had done halfway decently for the first day, and it really didn't seem fair to just dump her with no warning. Besides, I wanted to sleep through the night and it would have taken valium to knock me out. Ron insisted on driving me over there even though I really did not want him to go. We got the hamburger and cigaretts and when she came down to get them I got out of the car and took them to her. It was heart wrenching. She was sober and she thanked me and hugged me and wouldn't let go. I told her that I loved her more than my life but we just could not take it anymore. I had instructed Ron to stay in the car, but when he saw me hugging her he couldn't take it and got out to tell her that he loved her but just couldn't take it anymore. I quickly got back in the car so I could get him out of there. We were miserable, but felt a little better. About an hour later I received the message "thank you for the food and cig really appreciate it love you." Ron agreed with me that we had done alright for the first day.
In the days that followed there were messages pleading for food. "Please, please im sooo hungry i cant eat pb&j every day im sick of it i ate nothing yesterday i need cigs more than you realize im crying cause im so hungry." Reading things like that would make me lose my appetite. I would wonder how I could eat when my daughter had nothing. Not that it was a bad thing that my appetite was down since I did need to lose about fifteen pounds. About the only things I felt like eating were cereal, toast or cookies with milk. Fortunately we went out a lot, or rather Ron did. Once in a while I would meet him and some of his co-workers at their favorite restaurant for drinks and sometimes food. I could still drink wine. There were also the messages where she threatened to kill herself and many that were quite hateful. Those messages tended to make me a little angry and actually helped bolster my resolve.
I had been told more than once "do not read any messages Courtney sends to you." I understood the reason why was because it could be extremely upsetting and too tempting to respond. On the other hand, it was reassuring that she was alright for the moment and at that point I needed reassurance. It was pure torture wondering what she was doing and if she was alright. There were a few times I had to sneek off to read a text message. I kept my phone on vibrate in case my husband or others were around in case she sent a message. After about two weeks Ron called me to say that he had cut off Courtney's texting feature on her phone. That was the best thing he could have done. She could still call 911 for help if needed but she did not realize that she could no longer text anyone. I later learned that when she would get no reply it really got to her. In the meantime I kept myself busy helping Ron at his office for a few hours a day.
Our plan was that when Courtney hit bottom we would take her therapist's advice and find a good halfway house for her. To keep myself occupied I would spend hours perusing the internet looking for a suitable place to send her when she "hit bottom" or realized that she had no other option except living on the streets. I wanted to get her far enough away in a totally different environment where she could concentrate on herself with few distractions from home. I wanted to send her someplace she could stay for a long, long time.
Searching the internet and attending Al-Anon meetings were the two things that helped me the most. It was having something constructive to do that would help ease the depression I was feeling. Concentrating on looking online at different halfway houses gave me something else to think about. I had to believe that she would be ready to go someplace soon so I wanted to have a place selected for her. I couldn't bring myself to go to my doctor and ask for anti-depressants. It would be too hard for me to explain everything I was going through to him. I just did not feel like talking about it. Ron did go to our doctor because of the anxiety he was dealing with and obtained a prescription for a tranquilizer. I just stuck with wine.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Monday, September 8, 2008
AL-ANON
Getting Started --
You've taken the first step -- you've come to an Al-Anon meeting. Congratulations and Welcome!
What's The Next Step?
Well, that's a damn good question I thought as I read through the brochures we were handed when we walked in the room and an elderly lady recognized us as being newcomers. In a two minute conversation with Phyllis, we learned that she had had two abusive husbands (now dead) and that we have to let Courtney go and tell her that we love her and we have faith that she will make the right decisions for herself. Everyone was very friendly and made us feel welcome.
Although we should have gone to a Nar Anon meeting we decided to start with Al-Anon since Ron's cousin attended this particular meeting at 8:30 am every Saturday. There are many Al-Anon meetings each week to choose from in, but there was only one Nar-Anon meeting a week in town at an impossible time for Ron to attend. It probably would have been more beneficial to attend a Nar-Anon meeting, however, the 12 steps are still the same; as is learning how not to have an enabling personality. No matter if someone is addicted to alcohol or drugs, their loved ones must learn how not to enable them and that is difficult to do.
Cutting Courtney off financially was not a difficult decision at all. Cutting off communication, however, was another matter altogether. You might as well ask me to stop breathing . . . I can hold my breath for a little while but I have to breath now and then. So the next brochure I read seemed to be directed at those of us with enabling personalities and was entitled DETACHMENT. Detachment is neither kind nor unkind. It does not imply judgment or condemnation of the person or situation from which we are detaching. Separating ourselves from the adverse effects of another person's alcoholism can be a means of detaching: this does not necessarily require physical separation. Detachment can help us look at our situations realistically and objectively. . . . In Al-Anon we learn nothing we say or do can cause or stop someone else's drinking. . . . Detachment allows us to let go of our obsession with another's behavior and begin to lead happier and more manageable lives . . .
IN AL-ANON WE LEARN:
Not to suffer because of the actions or reactions of other people. This is a hard one to do.
Not to allow ourselves to be used or abused by others in the interest of another's recovery. This is one I have to get right for once. I have taken too much shit from Courtney.
Not to do for others what they can do for themselves. We should have done this a long time ago.
Not to manipulate situations so others will eat, go to bed, get up, pay bills, not drink, or behave as we see fit. O.K, O.K.
Not to cover up for another's mistakes or misdeeds. No more.
Not to create a crisis. Not me . . .
Not to prevent a crisis if it is in the natural course of events. **This will be the hardest but we are determined to do it. It almost goes against a parent's natural instinct to protect their child.
This is all really very good advise. Listening to people at that meeting helped strengthen our resolve to do what we had to do. We started with the serenity prayer then everyone took turns reading from the book Paths to Recovery, Al-Anon's Steps, Traditions, and Concepts. In addition to the Twelve Steps there are Twelve Traditions and Twelve Concepts of Service. Everyone else seemed light years ahead of us. Everyone was so friendly I see why it is called a fellowship.
Shortly after the meeting we were at the therapists office. Courtney was supposed to come with us, but when I called her she was "way too tired, and please leave me alone." Our therapist was very supportive about what we were about to do. She told Ron that Courtney "places you on a pedestal so you have to be the one to call her and tell her that you love her but you can't take it anymore and please don't call you back, you're on your own." She told us that Courtney has to "hit bottom" and she has to "feel it deep in her soul." She said that "Courtney needs a good six months in a halfway house." (That sounded real good to me -- six months of peace.) Everyone says that addicts have to hit bottom. I'm not sure exactly what that means though. Does it mean that she has to be on the streets starving? Does it mean she has to wake up in the hospital after an overdose and have an epiphany? Or does it mean that she just calls us and says she wants to go to a halfway house because she is about to be evicted from her apartment? Or, does it just mean that she will realize that she needs help and can't get sober on her own? I guess we will eventually find out.
Calling Courtney must have been one of the hardest things Ron has ever had to do. He had decided exactly what he would say to her and he made it as quick as he could. He also told her she no longer had a job. Of course she did call back more than a few times and we ignored her calls. It was really horrible. Ron called his brother to bring him up to date and his brother was so alarmed by how miserable Ron sounded he cut short his gambling trip and came straight home. My brother-in-law and his wife and another couple came over and we fixed drinks and thought about where we would go for dinner. I just wanted to go to bed, but when I suggested my favorite Italian restaurant and everyone else wanted to go there I felt a little better. My eldest daughter, Jessica, joined us and later her boyfriend met up with us at the restaurant. It did help to get out and try to enjoy myself. It was impossible to quit thinking about Courtney . . . I still just wanted to go home and go to bed.
When you make the decision to cut off a child in a situation like this, all sorts of horrible visions start going through your mind. I knew she would be angry and bewildered and I worried about her taking an overdose. I thought about her not having anything to eat. I thought about Dopey coming back over. I thought about her being desperate and shoplifting. I thought about her walking to Quicktrip late at night. I thought about her stubbornness and winding up on the streets. The thoughts just don't end. What helped me though the days to come was one paragraph I read from an Al-Anon brochure, Just For Today . . . I will try to live through this day only, and not tackle all my problems at once. I can do something for 12 hours that would appall me if I felt that I had to keep it up for a lifetime.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
AND THEN . . . .
Thursday morning Courtney had an appointment with her psychiatrist. I picked her up and it was quite obvious she was on something. It looked like she had slept in her clothes (if she had slept) and her eye makeup was smeared halfway across her face. When we got to the office she was staggering in the parking lot and wanted to smoke a cig since we were there early. She was in a VERY BAD MOOD. I went in ahead of her to make a payment and told the receptionist to warn Dr. R. Not that he would really need warning, I mean, really all he had to do was just look at her. I felt a sense of relief when she went in to talk with him but it was short lived. An empty pill bottle had fallen from her purse onto the couch and when I informed her that she had dropped her bottle she looked at it and said "that's not mine, way to go mom it's for painkillers." After she went in I retrieved the bottle out of the trash and looked at the name. I felt numb when I saw Dopey's name and saw that it was for 15 lortabs and dated just a few days before.
Had she taken all of those? Surely Dopey would not be that generous.
The ride home from her appointment was not pleasant. I did not mention the pills, I didn't dare.
She heaped verbal abuse upon me for the loss of her car and stated she might as well be dead.
At her apartment complex we could not open the gate because she forgot her remote control so I drove her over to the side walk through gate. She tried unsuccessfully to open it but could not remember the code so she got back in the car, screaming at me to get her to the gate. I turned the car around and drove back to the gate and just before I could stop my car she opens the door and tumbles out. I slammed on the brakes and jumped out, reaching for my cell phone, certain that I would need to call an ambulance. To my relief she got up (cussing) and finally another woman helped her get in the side gate while giving me a concerned and puzzled look.
That afternoon the doorbell rang and for some reason I was not all that shocked to see a policeman at the door. As I opened the door he held out Courtney's wallet with her student I.D. showing and asked me if I knew this girl. I told him that was my daughter and he proceeded to tell me how the wallet was found on the ground at the apartment complex next to Courtney's. The police had been called because some of the residents (all are over 60) were frightened by the appearance of a shirtless man wandering aimlessly about the property who clearly was not a resident. After the police had taken him away to another apartment miles away a resident gave the police her wallet and it was then that they connected it with the shirtless man and thought he was probably the one who stole it. Do you know his name I inquired, was it Dopey?? The policeman called the officer who had driven the man away and yes, indeed it was Dopey. I informed the officer that there was a protective order filed by my daughter against Dopey but unfortunately she is suffering from what therapists call "hostage syndrome" formerly known as Stockholm Syndrome. I filled him in a little with what we thought had been going on and he gave me the phone number for COPES (Community Outreach Psychiatric Emergency Services). See www.fcsok.org/?p+copes for more information.
COPES can be called for severe emotional distress, threats of suicide and psychotic episodes 24 hours a day, seven days a week. If Courtney was acting in a manner that lead me to believe she would harm herself or others then COPES would send a team out to talk with her and they would determine if she met the criteria to be taken to a hospital. If she did they would arrange for transport to a facility. It was a good thing he gave me the number because I would use it a lot sooner than I thought, like about an hour later.
A phone call from Courtney's apartment manager telling me about noise complaints from her apartment - the fighting was getting LOUD. The maintenance man had seen Dopey staggering about outside with a syringe in his hand (this is the truth). I decided that was it, someone else would have to handle this for me. I called COPES and explained everything and the young woman who I talked to explained to me that a COPES team would go out and interview her and determine if she needed to be hospitalized or not. I was to meet them at the office of the apartments and fill out and sign a form as to exactly what happened that has led me to believe that she would harm herself.
The apartment manager, a young woman, was great about it all. I told her about Dopey and she said his grandmother had brought him back and he had come back to the office and looked a little better but was confused about where Courtney's apartment was and he could not remember the correct apartment number either. The police officer who had returned Courtney's wallet had heard the call and decided to respond also. I filled out the forms and stayed out of sight and waited. I was dismayed to see the COPES team return 15 minutes later without Courtney. They had talked to her and she had straightened up enough and answered all the questions correctly so that she did not meet the criteria to haul her away. I shouldn't have been surprised. Courtney is not only smart and genetically clever but being a social work major so she knew EXACTLY what was going on and what she needed to do and say. Dopey was not there. Only God knows where he was wandering about.
True to their word, the COPES team went back later in the evening to check on Courtney at her apartment. Dopey opened the door and since they knew there was a Protective Order out on him they called the police. An officer called us and in order to arrest Dopey he would need a copy of the protective order, which I gleefully grabbed and ran with it to the car. We were there in three minutes and within three more minutes the officer had the Order in his hand. While we waited in the car behind the ambulance and fire truck, the COPES team came down to talk with us. I was taken aback when I saw two young twenty-something women in jeans; they looked like kids at the mall. But when you think about it, their appearance is not at all threatening but friendly and reassuring which would be met with a positive response from anyone they were trying to help. Once again, Courtney did not meet the criteria to be taken away but she did agree to spend the night with us. They were worried because Courtney was rather "loopy" and they thought she should be watched that night. She also had a few cuts, we were told, the worst being on her thumb. A few moments later, Dopey came down the stairs in handcuffs and I must admit to a warm feeling of satisfaction upon seeing him walk past us between two police officers.
As she came down the stairs and toward our car we heard Courtney exclaim "why don't you drug test them too, they are both psychotic . . . " We just couldn't wait to get home. But, fortunately when we arrived home she went straight up the stairs and fell in bed and passed out until after 1:00 p.m. the next day. We would have had a good nights sleep ourselves if it hadn't been for the fact that someone called us at 4:30 a.m. claiming to be from "social services" and wanted to talk to Courtney about her appointment that day. I asked the woman why would she be calling at such an ungodly hour of the morning and she replied that "there was a note left on my desk to call and remind her." Well, I wasn't going to fall for that crap and just told her that Courtney was sick and would not be there. My impression was that it had been Dopey's mother who had called because she sounded middle aged and she is the type of person who would do something like that.
Friday afternoon she awoke a bit clearer but the first thing she wanted to know was "what am I doing here." I asked her what she remembered and it wasn't much so I got her out of there as soon as I could before she erupted again. In the garage she jerked open the car door hard enough that it hit her father's car beside it and made a nice dent. I didn't say a word. I just wanted to get her back to the apartment so I engaged the child lock so she couldn't try to make an unexpected exit and got there as quick as I could. She was quite on the way back and I was relieved to get her out of my car without any problems. Now I could go home and relax.
I got to relax for an hour before Courtney called and wanted to go to lunch to "talk." I really just wanted to drive her through McDonalds but she requested that we "go in somewhere so we could talk." Reluctantly I took her to Panera Bread which was just a mile away. I didn't say much of anything and she was dressed better and looked like she had washed her face. She was polite. After ordering our food and sitting down she finally said "Dopey and I love each other too much to stay away." I though I would throw up so I didn't say much of anything to her except something about betraying her father. I just wanted to hurry up with lunch and get her back to her apartment. I reminded her that she had an appointment with her therapist in the morning and told her I would give her a call to make sure she was awake.
Telling my husband the results of my "talk" with Courtney was not easy, he was so disappointed but not surprised. We decided she would have to abide by strict rules if she wanted to keep her job and we spent time in deciding what those would be. She would not have the car - I thought she should never get it back, Ron thought six months at first but finally agreed with me. Ron really wanted to find a way to keep her at work with him - weekly drug tests were to be one requirement but she would still have to drive to the courthouse for work and that could be a problem. We finally decided that we would attend an AL-ANON meeting at 8:30 the next morning. Ron has a cousin and her husband who attend that particular meeting every week and it had really helped them, so we decided it was time to go and then we would see Courtney's therapist afterward.
Had she taken all of those? Surely Dopey would not be that generous.
The ride home from her appointment was not pleasant. I did not mention the pills, I didn't dare.
She heaped verbal abuse upon me for the loss of her car and stated she might as well be dead.
At her apartment complex we could not open the gate because she forgot her remote control so I drove her over to the side walk through gate. She tried unsuccessfully to open it but could not remember the code so she got back in the car, screaming at me to get her to the gate. I turned the car around and drove back to the gate and just before I could stop my car she opens the door and tumbles out. I slammed on the brakes and jumped out, reaching for my cell phone, certain that I would need to call an ambulance. To my relief she got up (cussing) and finally another woman helped her get in the side gate while giving me a concerned and puzzled look.
That afternoon the doorbell rang and for some reason I was not all that shocked to see a policeman at the door. As I opened the door he held out Courtney's wallet with her student I.D. showing and asked me if I knew this girl. I told him that was my daughter and he proceeded to tell me how the wallet was found on the ground at the apartment complex next to Courtney's. The police had been called because some of the residents (all are over 60) were frightened by the appearance of a shirtless man wandering aimlessly about the property who clearly was not a resident. After the police had taken him away to another apartment miles away a resident gave the police her wallet and it was then that they connected it with the shirtless man and thought he was probably the one who stole it. Do you know his name I inquired, was it Dopey?? The policeman called the officer who had driven the man away and yes, indeed it was Dopey. I informed the officer that there was a protective order filed by my daughter against Dopey but unfortunately she is suffering from what therapists call "hostage syndrome" formerly known as Stockholm Syndrome. I filled him in a little with what we thought had been going on and he gave me the phone number for COPES (Community Outreach Psychiatric Emergency Services). See www.fcsok.org/?p+copes for more information.
COPES can be called for severe emotional distress, threats of suicide and psychotic episodes 24 hours a day, seven days a week. If Courtney was acting in a manner that lead me to believe she would harm herself or others then COPES would send a team out to talk with her and they would determine if she met the criteria to be taken to a hospital. If she did they would arrange for transport to a facility. It was a good thing he gave me the number because I would use it a lot sooner than I thought, like about an hour later.
A phone call from Courtney's apartment manager telling me about noise complaints from her apartment - the fighting was getting LOUD. The maintenance man had seen Dopey staggering about outside with a syringe in his hand (this is the truth). I decided that was it, someone else would have to handle this for me. I called COPES and explained everything and the young woman who I talked to explained to me that a COPES team would go out and interview her and determine if she needed to be hospitalized or not. I was to meet them at the office of the apartments and fill out and sign a form as to exactly what happened that has led me to believe that she would harm herself.
The apartment manager, a young woman, was great about it all. I told her about Dopey and she said his grandmother had brought him back and he had come back to the office and looked a little better but was confused about where Courtney's apartment was and he could not remember the correct apartment number either. The police officer who had returned Courtney's wallet had heard the call and decided to respond also. I filled out the forms and stayed out of sight and waited. I was dismayed to see the COPES team return 15 minutes later without Courtney. They had talked to her and she had straightened up enough and answered all the questions correctly so that she did not meet the criteria to haul her away. I shouldn't have been surprised. Courtney is not only smart and genetically clever but being a social work major so she knew EXACTLY what was going on and what she needed to do and say. Dopey was not there. Only God knows where he was wandering about.
True to their word, the COPES team went back later in the evening to check on Courtney at her apartment. Dopey opened the door and since they knew there was a Protective Order out on him they called the police. An officer called us and in order to arrest Dopey he would need a copy of the protective order, which I gleefully grabbed and ran with it to the car. We were there in three minutes and within three more minutes the officer had the Order in his hand. While we waited in the car behind the ambulance and fire truck, the COPES team came down to talk with us. I was taken aback when I saw two young twenty-something women in jeans; they looked like kids at the mall. But when you think about it, their appearance is not at all threatening but friendly and reassuring which would be met with a positive response from anyone they were trying to help. Once again, Courtney did not meet the criteria to be taken away but she did agree to spend the night with us. They were worried because Courtney was rather "loopy" and they thought she should be watched that night. She also had a few cuts, we were told, the worst being on her thumb. A few moments later, Dopey came down the stairs in handcuffs and I must admit to a warm feeling of satisfaction upon seeing him walk past us between two police officers.
As she came down the stairs and toward our car we heard Courtney exclaim "why don't you drug test them too, they are both psychotic . . . " We just couldn't wait to get home. But, fortunately when we arrived home she went straight up the stairs and fell in bed and passed out until after 1:00 p.m. the next day. We would have had a good nights sleep ourselves if it hadn't been for the fact that someone called us at 4:30 a.m. claiming to be from "social services" and wanted to talk to Courtney about her appointment that day. I asked the woman why would she be calling at such an ungodly hour of the morning and she replied that "there was a note left on my desk to call and remind her." Well, I wasn't going to fall for that crap and just told her that Courtney was sick and would not be there. My impression was that it had been Dopey's mother who had called because she sounded middle aged and she is the type of person who would do something like that.
Friday afternoon she awoke a bit clearer but the first thing she wanted to know was "what am I doing here." I asked her what she remembered and it wasn't much so I got her out of there as soon as I could before she erupted again. In the garage she jerked open the car door hard enough that it hit her father's car beside it and made a nice dent. I didn't say a word. I just wanted to get her back to the apartment so I engaged the child lock so she couldn't try to make an unexpected exit and got there as quick as I could. She was quite on the way back and I was relieved to get her out of my car without any problems. Now I could go home and relax.
I got to relax for an hour before Courtney called and wanted to go to lunch to "talk." I really just wanted to drive her through McDonalds but she requested that we "go in somewhere so we could talk." Reluctantly I took her to Panera Bread which was just a mile away. I didn't say much of anything and she was dressed better and looked like she had washed her face. She was polite. After ordering our food and sitting down she finally said "Dopey and I love each other too much to stay away." I though I would throw up so I didn't say much of anything to her except something about betraying her father. I just wanted to hurry up with lunch and get her back to her apartment. I reminded her that she had an appointment with her therapist in the morning and told her I would give her a call to make sure she was awake.
Telling my husband the results of my "talk" with Courtney was not easy, he was so disappointed but not surprised. We decided she would have to abide by strict rules if she wanted to keep her job and we spent time in deciding what those would be. She would not have the car - I thought she should never get it back, Ron thought six months at first but finally agreed with me. Ron really wanted to find a way to keep her at work with him - weekly drug tests were to be one requirement but she would still have to drive to the courthouse for work and that could be a problem. We finally decided that we would attend an AL-ANON meeting at 8:30 the next morning. Ron has a cousin and her husband who attend that particular meeting every week and it had really helped them, so we decided it was time to go and then we would see Courtney's therapist afterward.
Monday, September 1, 2008
PREVIOUSLY . . . .
In just a few days it will be the one year anniversary of my daughter's month long stay in a drug rehab treatment center in Memphis, TN. Being a social work major my daughter Courtney had insisted that she needed a dual diagnosis facility because, she said, the vast majority of people who use drugs have an underlying mental problem. Well, that made sense to me so I modified my internet search for a dual diagnosis treatment center and found I had many to choose from. Since we live in Oklahoma I hoped to find someplace that was within a day's drive and we would not need a second mortgage to afford. Foundations (the name is now changed to La Paloma Treatment Center) near historic downtown Memphis, pretty much fit our needs and as it turned out fit our daughter's needs. The staff was great (the food was NOT) and according to her therapist, Courtney worked very hard.
The biggest mistake we made was not continuing her treatment in an extended care facility and/or a halfway house. I later read that the highest vulnerability for relapse is within thirty to ninety days. A psychiatrist told me that after about 30 days of sobriety the cravings will kick in again. Traditional treatment is 30 days. Obviously that does not help the odds of recovery. Thanks to insurance companies some patients don't even get to complete the thirty days. Courtney's therapist at rehab recommended a half way house, but did not stress the importance of continuing a sober living environment. Courtney was dead set against a halfway house, she was certain she would do well with an outpatient extended care at home. If Courtney had not been in love with a man who is an abusive, drug addicted felon, she might have made it. But, as she had seen with other women in treatment, going back with him has led to several relapses. The latest has caused us to cut her off financially and sent us to ALANON and therapy.
After returning home from rehab Courtney went to an outpatient extended care and attended for three days. According to her it was a repeat and most of the time she sat around doing nothing. She started seeing a psychologist and going to group therapy once or twice a week, but too soon she began to find reasons not to go. Before going to treatment she had several seizures and in Oklahoma you are not allowed to drive for a year after a seizure. We were leasing the car she drove so Courtney had no choice but rely on us to drive her around. Dopey had no car so he relied on his grandparents to drive him around and several time a week Courtney would end up at Dopey's house for the evening. That was until the evening of the fight where Dopey beat Courtney for the first time (that we knew of) right in front of his family, who just sat there and watched. They ended up outside where he picked her up and threw her down, then trying to get away she tripped over tree roots and twisted her ankle. Since she had no car she called her best friend Salome, who told Courtney she would pick her up ONLY if Courtney called the police. So Courtney called the police, who came and took pictures of her. Dopey told them that Courtney had hit HIM and he had bruises to prove it. Bruises from a previous fight with another guy. The police took pictures of Dopey and nothing else was done.
Salome dropped Courtney off at the emergency room then called me. I was shocked at first, then just hopeful that surely she would never want anything to do with him again. I had a lot to learn about women in abusive relationships. Courtney finally called me from the emergency roon and I acted like I hadn't heard anything. She was very agitated and stayed agitated for the next week. At the time I had no idea that she was gobbeling down Xanax. While she was waiting in the emergency room she became rather loud about her pain and the slowness of the staff. A man from security asked her to go wait outside. Courtney was incensed and we decided I would take her to another hospital. I took her to the newest, smaller hospital in town (which as it turns out was not on our insurance) and the waiting room was practically empty. She didn't have long to wait but that did not improve her mood.
After an xray of her ankle and a shot for pain, we were finally headed home at two in the morning. At home she sat in a recliner and I put ice on her ankle, the she went to sleep for a few hours. Before six a.m. she was wide awake and insisting she was in worse pain and needed to go back to the hospital, because the doctor had told her to come back if the pain got worse. Courtney claimed the pain was much, much worse. I wonder if the doctor would have told her to come back if he had known she was an addict? I was still clueless. So, back we went and this time saw a different doctor. Courtney's mood was nasty and the attending physician commented on that fact. I think she gave Courtney the prescription for Lortab just to get rid of her.
A couple more days of Courtney's agitated behavoir and verbal abuse led me to take her to a psyciatric hospital that was conveniently located just a few miles from our house. I first had taken her to an appointment with her psychologist with whom she became beligerent. He called me in, with her permission, and pulled out a tape recorder. He told her "some day you will listen to this and be shocked." Getting her admitted to the hospital was like pulling teeth with tweezers. Courtney did not want to be admitted. Since she had threatened me repeatedly they advised her that I could call the police and have her brought to the hospital. After the threat of being handcuffed, she signed herself in.
The next day she called Dopey and had him come for a visit. I had gone to visit her and was told that she absolutely did not want to see any family. When I saw Dopey walk in I understood why. At least I got to tell him EXACTLY what I thought about him, not caring about the visitors listening to my rant. I made sure the staff knew that this was the guy who beat her up and to keep an eye on him. It felt really good to get those feelings off my chest.
During her stay in the hospital, Courtney was started on a new drug, Subxone, which according to her therapist has saved lives. Subxone blocks cravings for opiates and it does work. She was to stay on it for about a year. It would take time to get her dosage adjusted and then she would later be weaned from the drug. There were only three physchiatrists in Tulsa who could prescribe Subxone and if you weren't covered by insurance it would cost you about $1,000 a month to take. She made an appointment with one of them and I thought things were looking up. At her first appointment with Dr. R. she decided that she really like him and believed he could really help her.
Ron and I went to see the therapist that Courtney had been seeing since before rehab and who we had begin seeing occassionally. Becky strongly recommended that Courtney no longer live with us. She told us to send her to a halfway house or rent a room or apartment, but Courtney needed to be away from ME. Becky was afraid that Courtney would hurt me. Courtney resented me so much that Becky worried that Courtney would actually physically abuse me. That seemed unbelievable to me, but on the other hand I had seen her in some nasty rages with a look in her eye that said she hated me. Courtney told me more than once that she wished I was dead. I never heard her say that about her father. It was decided that Ron would be the one to tell her that she was getting kicked out of the house.
We ultimately put her in a cheap apartment just a couple of miles from our house. It was agreed that her father would help her with the rent until she could pay it herself. He told her that since he was paying the rent she was not to let anyone else (meaning Dopey) stay there. Courtney's uncle gave her a job at his pharmacy that was located next to her apartment. She could walk to work in five minutes. She was learning to sell medical equipment and claimed to love the work and her co-workers. We thought things were looking up but that was temporary. Dopey started living with her at the apartment and one morning Courtney went to work loaded and fell asleep while waiting on a customer. Her supervisor sent her for a drug test that she failed. It was difficult for her uncle to fire her but he had no choice. Courtney was devasted.
A couple of days later, Ron's partner suggested they hire her as a file clerk at their law firm. Courtney was excited to have a chance to work with her father. We bought her some new clothes for work. I would pick her up in the morning and drive her to work and her father would drive her home. She really loved her job and did it very well. Sometimes during the week she would go with her father and a couple others from the office and go out to eat. She seemed really happy and we thought maybe things would really work out.
Sunday, July 13 in the early afternoon I received a distress call from Courtney. Dopey (not his real name, but it should be) was beating her and get Dad over there NOW and she was going to call the police. She was trying to get him out and he would not leave. Since her apartment was only a mile away we were there in less than five minutes. Knowing that Courtney has a black belt in karate gave us some comfort that she could defend herself and perhaps land a few good blows of her own. When we arrived the altercation was reduced to yelling at each other; Dopey had his few belongings packed in a plastic laundry tote and was trying to find his blue laundry bag which was NOT there, no matter how many times he looked in the corner in her bedroom for it. He was accusing her of being crazy and trying to take HIS drugs. She was accusing him of waking up crazy and grabbing her and strangling her because he thought she took HIS drugs (which he listed as Colonopin and Xanax and I can't remember what else). We finally got him out after throwing a few articles of clothing over the balcony for him to retrieve. (I thought that was fun.) He took his laundry tote and started walking.
After talking with our distraught daughter for about ten minutes, she told us to go ahead and leave, she wanted to be alone for awhile before she came and stayed at our house. We left her apartment and drove around looking to see if Dopey had left the area. We saw him sitting on the porch of another apartment of someone that he knew. Dopey does not have a car and depends on rides from his dysfunctional family and his one or two friends. We were fairly satisfied that he would not go back to her apartment, at least for a while. At the time we were not certain that Courtney had taken anything. But, I thought, why would she let Dopey bring all that crap into her home? She told us he was shooting up coke and I thought I would be sick. Looking back now, I'm sure she probably had taken something, most likely Colonopin. Dopey did come back later (with his co-dependent grandfather driving) and wanted his T.V. and dvd player back. Just because the dvd player had been a gift to her did not mean she could keep it. She wouldn't let him in and told him to come back when he wasn't so crazy and then called the police. Dopey had just enough sense left to leave before they arrived. The policeman who responded to Courtney's call gave her a pamphlet for abused women that explained how to file a protective order and told her to call if he came back.
The next couple of days staying at our house were miserable. She was moody and sometimes downright mean. Monday she wanted to go to the courthouse and take out a protective order. We discovered that we could only do that until 1:00 p.m. each day. So, thanks to one of her co-workers we found that she could go to DVIS (domestic violence intervention service) and they would help her fill out all the paperwork in order to file for a P.O. There was a lot of paperwork and I highly recommend having help navigating it all. The next day she had to be at the Courthouse by 9:30 a.m. to file the paperwork and see the judge. One of the attorney's in her father's office went with her and since she was the only person with an attorney, she got to go first. It was over and done with in a matter of minutes, except that she had to come back in two weeks to make it permanent.
Filing a protective order had been a giant step for Courtney to take. Normally their breakups lasted less than 24 hours (actually less than 12). I heard her claim he was the love of her life so many times she began to sound like she was in a cult. Her father and I were so happy but at the same time worried about if she would really go through with it. More than one person told us she would probably go back with him.
Courtney claimed that she could not go back to her apartment because she saw Dopey's face everywhere. Her therapist told her she could have tramatic stress syndrome and so we looked for another apartment. We found one less than two miles from our house and it was nicer and GATED. It was a huge complex so Dopey would have a hard time finding her apartment even if given directions a second grader could follow. Her court date was July 29 and the attorneys had them agree to a six month protective order against BOTH of them so Courtney would not have to testify about what had happened. What her father liked was that Courtney would not be able to contact Dopey either, she would be in violation of a court order if she did. We really thought she wouldn't.
She made it a month. That was a record but she later claimed that "we love each other too much to stay away" and that "we just want to be able to call each other now and then." I knew it was coming when I saw that she had posted her new cell phone number on Facebook and that he was still listed as a friend. That made it easy for him to contact her and lure her back. Last year we had put a tracking gps in the car so we could get online and see where she was taking the car. That has been one of the best investments we have made and when I happened to see her drive by Dopey's house one night, I thought my heart would stop. I immediately called her on her cell phone and asked her "what was she doing!!!" Her response was that she just wanted to drive by his house because of something she had read on Facebook, blah blah blah . . . She had picked him up.
Wednesday, August 20 - a day that broke her father's heart. She had been doing so well at her job. Better, in fact, that the previous employees for that position in years. This is according to the senior partner, NOT her father. The morning went great, but for some reason at lunch she took something and had a drink. (This was confessed to her sister later .) I don't know why Courtney would think no one would notice when she was staggering about. And, why would Courtney think it was alright to ask the receptionist to pour her a drink of wine (kept for clients, of course) and not let anyone know. Toward the end of the day Courtney's father called her back to his office and made her give him her car keys. The car is in his name and HE makes the payments. This did not go over well and she was offended that he would take back HER car -- how would she get to work? Certain drugs make Courtney manic and it isn't pretty. She gets VERY UGLY and when her father drove her home, the ride to her apartment was not fun. The nasty phone calls I received from her during that ride were not fun for me either. Courtney has said "fuck you" more times than anyone on earth.
Where has all this anger has come from?? Self esteem issues to be sure are one thing but there has to be something else. I guess her anger towards me could stem from the fact that I HATE her boyfriend and she knows it. The result of her relapse that day resulted in her losing her job that she loved. A few days later she called the senior partner and cried and begged for another chance. He told her as long as she was associating with a criminal like Dopey she could not work there. He told her he would not go against her father.
The biggest mistake we made was not continuing her treatment in an extended care facility and/or a halfway house. I later read that the highest vulnerability for relapse is within thirty to ninety days. A psychiatrist told me that after about 30 days of sobriety the cravings will kick in again. Traditional treatment is 30 days. Obviously that does not help the odds of recovery. Thanks to insurance companies some patients don't even get to complete the thirty days. Courtney's therapist at rehab recommended a half way house, but did not stress the importance of continuing a sober living environment. Courtney was dead set against a halfway house, she was certain she would do well with an outpatient extended care at home. If Courtney had not been in love with a man who is an abusive, drug addicted felon, she might have made it. But, as she had seen with other women in treatment, going back with him has led to several relapses. The latest has caused us to cut her off financially and sent us to ALANON and therapy.
After returning home from rehab Courtney went to an outpatient extended care and attended for three days. According to her it was a repeat and most of the time she sat around doing nothing. She started seeing a psychologist and going to group therapy once or twice a week, but too soon she began to find reasons not to go. Before going to treatment she had several seizures and in Oklahoma you are not allowed to drive for a year after a seizure. We were leasing the car she drove so Courtney had no choice but rely on us to drive her around. Dopey had no car so he relied on his grandparents to drive him around and several time a week Courtney would end up at Dopey's house for the evening. That was until the evening of the fight where Dopey beat Courtney for the first time (that we knew of) right in front of his family, who just sat there and watched. They ended up outside where he picked her up and threw her down, then trying to get away she tripped over tree roots and twisted her ankle. Since she had no car she called her best friend Salome, who told Courtney she would pick her up ONLY if Courtney called the police. So Courtney called the police, who came and took pictures of her. Dopey told them that Courtney had hit HIM and he had bruises to prove it. Bruises from a previous fight with another guy. The police took pictures of Dopey and nothing else was done.
Salome dropped Courtney off at the emergency room then called me. I was shocked at first, then just hopeful that surely she would never want anything to do with him again. I had a lot to learn about women in abusive relationships. Courtney finally called me from the emergency roon and I acted like I hadn't heard anything. She was very agitated and stayed agitated for the next week. At the time I had no idea that she was gobbeling down Xanax. While she was waiting in the emergency room she became rather loud about her pain and the slowness of the staff. A man from security asked her to go wait outside. Courtney was incensed and we decided I would take her to another hospital. I took her to the newest, smaller hospital in town (which as it turns out was not on our insurance) and the waiting room was practically empty. She didn't have long to wait but that did not improve her mood.
After an xray of her ankle and a shot for pain, we were finally headed home at two in the morning. At home she sat in a recliner and I put ice on her ankle, the she went to sleep for a few hours. Before six a.m. she was wide awake and insisting she was in worse pain and needed to go back to the hospital, because the doctor had told her to come back if the pain got worse. Courtney claimed the pain was much, much worse. I wonder if the doctor would have told her to come back if he had known she was an addict? I was still clueless. So, back we went and this time saw a different doctor. Courtney's mood was nasty and the attending physician commented on that fact. I think she gave Courtney the prescription for Lortab just to get rid of her.
A couple more days of Courtney's agitated behavoir and verbal abuse led me to take her to a psyciatric hospital that was conveniently located just a few miles from our house. I first had taken her to an appointment with her psychologist with whom she became beligerent. He called me in, with her permission, and pulled out a tape recorder. He told her "some day you will listen to this and be shocked." Getting her admitted to the hospital was like pulling teeth with tweezers. Courtney did not want to be admitted. Since she had threatened me repeatedly they advised her that I could call the police and have her brought to the hospital. After the threat of being handcuffed, she signed herself in.
The next day she called Dopey and had him come for a visit. I had gone to visit her and was told that she absolutely did not want to see any family. When I saw Dopey walk in I understood why. At least I got to tell him EXACTLY what I thought about him, not caring about the visitors listening to my rant. I made sure the staff knew that this was the guy who beat her up and to keep an eye on him. It felt really good to get those feelings off my chest.
During her stay in the hospital, Courtney was started on a new drug, Subxone, which according to her therapist has saved lives. Subxone blocks cravings for opiates and it does work. She was to stay on it for about a year. It would take time to get her dosage adjusted and then she would later be weaned from the drug. There were only three physchiatrists in Tulsa who could prescribe Subxone and if you weren't covered by insurance it would cost you about $1,000 a month to take. She made an appointment with one of them and I thought things were looking up. At her first appointment with Dr. R. she decided that she really like him and believed he could really help her.
Ron and I went to see the therapist that Courtney had been seeing since before rehab and who we had begin seeing occassionally. Becky strongly recommended that Courtney no longer live with us. She told us to send her to a halfway house or rent a room or apartment, but Courtney needed to be away from ME. Becky was afraid that Courtney would hurt me. Courtney resented me so much that Becky worried that Courtney would actually physically abuse me. That seemed unbelievable to me, but on the other hand I had seen her in some nasty rages with a look in her eye that said she hated me. Courtney told me more than once that she wished I was dead. I never heard her say that about her father. It was decided that Ron would be the one to tell her that she was getting kicked out of the house.
We ultimately put her in a cheap apartment just a couple of miles from our house. It was agreed that her father would help her with the rent until she could pay it herself. He told her that since he was paying the rent she was not to let anyone else (meaning Dopey) stay there. Courtney's uncle gave her a job at his pharmacy that was located next to her apartment. She could walk to work in five minutes. She was learning to sell medical equipment and claimed to love the work and her co-workers. We thought things were looking up but that was temporary. Dopey started living with her at the apartment and one morning Courtney went to work loaded and fell asleep while waiting on a customer. Her supervisor sent her for a drug test that she failed. It was difficult for her uncle to fire her but he had no choice. Courtney was devasted.
A couple of days later, Ron's partner suggested they hire her as a file clerk at their law firm. Courtney was excited to have a chance to work with her father. We bought her some new clothes for work. I would pick her up in the morning and drive her to work and her father would drive her home. She really loved her job and did it very well. Sometimes during the week she would go with her father and a couple others from the office and go out to eat. She seemed really happy and we thought maybe things would really work out.
Sunday, July 13 in the early afternoon I received a distress call from Courtney. Dopey (not his real name, but it should be) was beating her and get Dad over there NOW and she was going to call the police. She was trying to get him out and he would not leave. Since her apartment was only a mile away we were there in less than five minutes. Knowing that Courtney has a black belt in karate gave us some comfort that she could defend herself and perhaps land a few good blows of her own. When we arrived the altercation was reduced to yelling at each other; Dopey had his few belongings packed in a plastic laundry tote and was trying to find his blue laundry bag which was NOT there, no matter how many times he looked in the corner in her bedroom for it. He was accusing her of being crazy and trying to take HIS drugs. She was accusing him of waking up crazy and grabbing her and strangling her because he thought she took HIS drugs (which he listed as Colonopin and Xanax and I can't remember what else). We finally got him out after throwing a few articles of clothing over the balcony for him to retrieve. (I thought that was fun.) He took his laundry tote and started walking.
After talking with our distraught daughter for about ten minutes, she told us to go ahead and leave, she wanted to be alone for awhile before she came and stayed at our house. We left her apartment and drove around looking to see if Dopey had left the area. We saw him sitting on the porch of another apartment of someone that he knew. Dopey does not have a car and depends on rides from his dysfunctional family and his one or two friends. We were fairly satisfied that he would not go back to her apartment, at least for a while. At the time we were not certain that Courtney had taken anything. But, I thought, why would she let Dopey bring all that crap into her home? She told us he was shooting up coke and I thought I would be sick. Looking back now, I'm sure she probably had taken something, most likely Colonopin. Dopey did come back later (with his co-dependent grandfather driving) and wanted his T.V. and dvd player back. Just because the dvd player had been a gift to her did not mean she could keep it. She wouldn't let him in and told him to come back when he wasn't so crazy and then called the police. Dopey had just enough sense left to leave before they arrived. The policeman who responded to Courtney's call gave her a pamphlet for abused women that explained how to file a protective order and told her to call if he came back.
The next couple of days staying at our house were miserable. She was moody and sometimes downright mean. Monday she wanted to go to the courthouse and take out a protective order. We discovered that we could only do that until 1:00 p.m. each day. So, thanks to one of her co-workers we found that she could go to DVIS (domestic violence intervention service) and they would help her fill out all the paperwork in order to file for a P.O. There was a lot of paperwork and I highly recommend having help navigating it all. The next day she had to be at the Courthouse by 9:30 a.m. to file the paperwork and see the judge. One of the attorney's in her father's office went with her and since she was the only person with an attorney, she got to go first. It was over and done with in a matter of minutes, except that she had to come back in two weeks to make it permanent.
Filing a protective order had been a giant step for Courtney to take. Normally their breakups lasted less than 24 hours (actually less than 12). I heard her claim he was the love of her life so many times she began to sound like she was in a cult. Her father and I were so happy but at the same time worried about if she would really go through with it. More than one person told us she would probably go back with him.
Courtney claimed that she could not go back to her apartment because she saw Dopey's face everywhere. Her therapist told her she could have tramatic stress syndrome and so we looked for another apartment. We found one less than two miles from our house and it was nicer and GATED. It was a huge complex so Dopey would have a hard time finding her apartment even if given directions a second grader could follow. Her court date was July 29 and the attorneys had them agree to a six month protective order against BOTH of them so Courtney would not have to testify about what had happened. What her father liked was that Courtney would not be able to contact Dopey either, she would be in violation of a court order if she did. We really thought she wouldn't.
She made it a month. That was a record but she later claimed that "we love each other too much to stay away" and that "we just want to be able to call each other now and then." I knew it was coming when I saw that she had posted her new cell phone number on Facebook and that he was still listed as a friend. That made it easy for him to contact her and lure her back. Last year we had put a tracking gps in the car so we could get online and see where she was taking the car. That has been one of the best investments we have made and when I happened to see her drive by Dopey's house one night, I thought my heart would stop. I immediately called her on her cell phone and asked her "what was she doing!!!" Her response was that she just wanted to drive by his house because of something she had read on Facebook, blah blah blah . . . She had picked him up.
Wednesday, August 20 - a day that broke her father's heart. She had been doing so well at her job. Better, in fact, that the previous employees for that position in years. This is according to the senior partner, NOT her father. The morning went great, but for some reason at lunch she took something and had a drink. (This was confessed to her sister later .) I don't know why Courtney would think no one would notice when she was staggering about. And, why would Courtney think it was alright to ask the receptionist to pour her a drink of wine (kept for clients, of course) and not let anyone know. Toward the end of the day Courtney's father called her back to his office and made her give him her car keys. The car is in his name and HE makes the payments. This did not go over well and she was offended that he would take back HER car -- how would she get to work? Certain drugs make Courtney manic and it isn't pretty. She gets VERY UGLY and when her father drove her home, the ride to her apartment was not fun. The nasty phone calls I received from her during that ride were not fun for me either. Courtney has said "fuck you" more times than anyone on earth.
Where has all this anger has come from?? Self esteem issues to be sure are one thing but there has to be something else. I guess her anger towards me could stem from the fact that I HATE her boyfriend and she knows it. The result of her relapse that day resulted in her losing her job that she loved. A few days later she called the senior partner and cried and begged for another chance. He told her as long as she was associating with a criminal like Dopey she could not work there. He told her he would not go against her father.
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