A Minor Detachment?

This is a beautiful rendition of the Horsehead Nebula, located in Orion, taken by the Hubble Space Telescope; where Stars are truly born. You like?

My daughter is in rehab, in Corpus Christie, again. She has been there a little over a week. She has expressed to me that she actually wants to get sober.

The last time she was at this particular facility she did not want to be there. She made this quite clear from the get-go at the time. And, upon her discharge she made it abundantly clear that she despised sobriety. She openly discussed her defiant behavior she exhibited while in rehab.

She didn't want it, so she didn't get it.

I finally talked to her this past Wednesday, and I have to tell you, I almost didn't recognize her. Yeah, I knew it was her voice, but it was her mature delivery that threw me off. She sounded like a different person. And, she wasn't spewing empty promises. It was as if a switch had been thrown within. It was very strange, hearing this new and improved version of my baby.

The change in her couldn't be an immediate result of rehab, I'm certain (she's only been there about a week and a half). I believe it is something of a spiritual nature that has finally broken through her mental fog. I could actually hear the process of enlightenment in her words and in the timbre of her voice.

Of course, she is a drug addict, which qualifies her as an expert liar. As are all addicts and alcoholics. Time will tell.

Now to my purpose for writing: why am I seemingly apathetic towards this new and improved teenager? I feel as though I'm a detached, numb-headed nomad, confused as to how I want to feel about all of this. I mean, the last time she was there, all I could think about was making sure I sent at least 2 letters a week to her. Today? The thought of writing her just doesn't appeal to me. The feelings are similar to those pertaining to one of the many mundane chores we humans have in common that accompany our everyday existence. Like loading the dishwasher or filling up the gas tank.

That sounds horrible, doesn't it?

But, of course I have a good idea why I feel this way. I don't trust her. And, since I don't trust her, my mind is doing what it is designed to do; it is protecting me from all of the dreadful feelings I've felt for so many years.

After all of the disappointments, lies, and treacherous behaviors she has presented to us over the years, I think my mind is now officially on alert. Instead of my instinctual response of immediately going to DEFCON 1, (which is the most severe fear and worry mode), I'm hanging steady at DEFCON 5, refusing to allow myself to self destruct (which will be the end result if I continue to make myself sick with fear and dread).

I just cannot do that anymore. At least, not at this point. Hopefully, this time, I won't have to.

Hmmm, maybe I'm finally beginning to herd some acceptance into my program. God knows I've battled it for years. (Thing is, I've been able to settle into a comfy bed of acceptance with most other areas of my alcoholic life. But when it comes to my daughter, it has been a difficult, hostile crusade).

So, to all of you new to sobriety, just know that acceptance is a huge part of recovery. Don't be too hard on yourself if you don't get it at first.

Thanks for reading

coop