#Courageous conversations austin full
What I didn’t know was what Austin would be willing to do if there was no safety net to support him… The beautiful home provided by hardworking parents with a refrigerator full of food, transportation, a cozy room of his own complete with a television, cell phone, and comfy queen-sized bed. The sobering truth was that the call I dreaded if I held my ground was actually the call that could come, and likely would come, at any time if he continued to live at home. “And what do you know for certain about his addiction when he doesn’t live at home?” That was not so simple… mainly because I had always eventually let him come back home making it easy for him to use again and again. She listened and then asked, “What do you know for sure about his addiction while he’s been at home?” That was simple. I feared living the rest of my life with an unspeakable guilt and despair. Ultimately, I was afraid that I would get a call in the middle of the night from the coroner saying that my child was dead of an overdose. What was I so afraid of? It was easy to answer: If I stood my ground and pulled the trigger on the boundary of zero tolerance for Austin using drugs if he lived in my home, I was afraid that he would choose the drugs and truly leave. Looking back, that last question was the turning point for me. She led me to my own answers with a line of perfect, if not challenging, questions: What did I truly want, for myself and for Austin? What did I deserve? What did Austin deserve? What boundaries were necessary for that to occur? What boundary would I be willing to stand behind fully, without compromise? What was I robbing Austin of if I did not allow him to find his own answers, his own strength, and his own way? What was I afraid of? It was me who held all the responsibility for what was happening in my home. Mary, my coach, did what all great coaches do: She reminded me that the coaching was not for Austin but for me. I knew something had to be different because what I had been doing was definitely not working, for him or me. I felt out of options and completely stuck.
It was also after countless conversations which had escalated into angry and hateful words, accusations, heavy judgement, fits of hysterical crying, slamming doors and other assorted things, heavy doses of manipulation, and threats which were ultimately without teeth. He was living at home with me, a newly single mother. It happened after Austin had been using for quite some time, had been in and out of rehabs, and had relapsed repeatedly. We are appreciative of the words of encouragement from so many to share our story with a larger audience and contribute what we can to the masses of people on the frontlines of this war.Īs promised, this week’s Stretch focuses on one of the two pivotal moments that Austin describes as a turning point: a “courageous conversation.” I believe this conversation between Austin and myself is an example and model for the conversations that many of us need to have when boundaries have been blurred, behaviors are unacceptable and even dangerous, and our love needs to be tough on behalf of another as well as ourselves. We grieved with those who shared their losses of loved ones who did not make it through. We’re so grateful to everyone who shared stories of friends, loved ones, and colleagues who have battled, or are currently battling, a similar beast. Comments ran the gambit from praising our honesty, to encouraging our future efforts, to asking for our advice in fighting the battle within their own family.
We received a record number of responses, Facebook posts, phone calls, and texts. The response from last week’s Monday Morning Stretch was literally overwhelming. Well, if we had any doubts about how important, relevant, and appreciated discussing Austin and my experience with his opiate addiction and subsequent recovery would be… we don’t anymore.
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