One man's journey to get clean : A letter to Mom by Mustang Patty |
So far, we've been following Gary Thompson's journey to kick his addiction. We heard his conversation with the intake therapist at Sunnyview Rehabilitation Center. The struggle within him raged as he decided whether to take the offer for treatment. We were introduced to his mother, Mary, and shared her fears for her only son's destructive behavior. We learned she prayed fervently and constantly for his recovery. His phone call to her about entering rehab was met with tears of relief. We were with Gary as he was beginning to digest the dual diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) and Bi Polar. We listened to him share at his last NA group while in the Addiction unit, and we rejoin the story where Gary is assimilating into life on the Psych Unit, and writing his mother a letter. Harsh fluorescent lights only served to accentuate the scarred Formica table tops. Initials and pleas were scratched all over the surfaces. Gary used his shirt sleeve to wipe a place, but he realized it wasn't dirt or grime, but thousands of little scratches marring the non-existent shine. Noises down the hall could be heard. The other patients were starting their morning routines. Most headed for coffee, and looked for a place to wait until breakfast was ready. With his head down, Gary watched as people shuffled into the lounge where he drank his weak decaf. The preparations for the morning meal could be heard from down the hall, and the smells were tantalizing. One thing that could be said about Sunnyview – the food was great. Noticeable differences between the addiction unit and this one bounced around in Gary's conscience. For one thing, security was tighter in the Psych unit, but there seemed to be a higher level of accountability on the unit for addiction. Staff training was more intense here, but the counselors and therapists seemed friendlier when he entered the addiction center. Processing all the changes around him, Gary tried to tell if there were any effects from his medication. He was taking his meds as directed, and had been for three weeks, but he wasn't sure if he felt anything. Drawing a deep breath, Gary was surprised to feel more calm. Could that be the meds? He now had daily therapy with his new counselor, Roger, and they seemed to be making progress. Roger said they were using the talk method of therapy, and while it was effective, they might be starting something new today. Gary put the spiral notebook on the table in front of him. Roger suggested he keep a journal while he was on the unit. Putting the paper to another use, Gary decided to write a long overdue letter to his mother. The blank pages loomed in front of him, and he realized the only way to tackle the task was one word at a time. Dear Mom; I hope this letter finds you doing good. I really do apreciate you writing and sending care packages. I enjoy the clothes and books you've sent. They won't let me have the cookies because they could have something in them. I'm sorry, but they end up in the garbage. Thinking about the cookies, Gary's mouth started to water. He felt bad because he knew his mother rarely baked. He had been able to glimpse the cookies before they were taken away, and they had the appearance of home-made instead of store bought. At this point, Gary would even love a Chips Ahoy binge. He missed the abundant amounts of sugar he used to have every day. I have a lot to talk to you about, and I'm not even sure where to start. I've been moved to a different ward, and the good news is that I get to call you soon. The bad news is that it’s the Psych ward. I know we've talked about the possibility of me having your mental illness, but it still hit hard when they gave me the news. It seems that I have a dual diagnosys just like you. Since I watched you strugle for all those years, I'm bowned and determined to take the meds they prescribe. They have me on a few medications. It took me awhile to read through the paperwork to find out how they worked. The first one is an antipshycotic called Geodon, and the second one is Lemectil. It is some kind of mood stabilizer. Have you ever heard of either of them? Have you ever had to take them? Did they work for you? The doctor and therapist say it might take trying out diffrent medicines until they get it right. I know you didn't get anywear near stable until you finaly gave into the notion you would be on meds for rest of your life. How on earth did you do it? I'm having a hard time with getting clean from street drugs, only to start taking prescription drugs, but I have to let go of that notion, you know - huh? Reflecting on the differences in their lives, Gary realized his Mom was already a mother of two toddlers when she was his age. Other than maybe drinking too much wine occasionally, she hadn't used anything to self-medicate. He had always thought she was heroic, and he had always told her so. He didn't really comprehend what she went through until now. The staff psichiatrist told me that they could tell from all the tests I took that I have Borderline Personality Disorder and I'm Bi Polar, too. I guess your disease is genetic. I guess being gay on top of it all just was too much for me. We've been doing regular old talk therapy for the past couple of weeks, but Roger (the therapist assigned to me) says we will start using a different method called D.B.T. I think it stands for Diabolical Binary Therapy, but I can't remember what he called it. Did you ever hear of that? Did you ever do it? More good news – I've been clean for over five weeks now. YAY!! I know your happy about that, and I am, to. I should be able to call in about too weeks. I need to show them I'm commited to the treatment plan. I need too take my meds, eat, and sosiaulize with other people. That'll be a change. I can do all that. I would love to hear your voice. And I think I will call Hillary too. I hope she wants to here from me. I've sucked as a little brother for the past few years and I need to make up for alot. I love you, Mommy. More than I can say, Love always, Gary He walked to the nurses' station and asked for an envelope and a stamp. As he sealed and addressed the envelope, he couldn't help but smile. He knew the letter would make his Mom's day.
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