Saturday, May 26, 2012
We heard nothing from A all day yesterday. We heard nothing from my nephew. We had no idea what was going on. We could only hope that A was safe. We realize that this is his problem, but it's hard not to make it ours. I spent the day in a haze, pulling weeds from the garden, trying to pull the cobwebs from my head. When I awoke this morning, Hubby said A called last night at around 1am - I heard nothing - oh, the trials of being deaf. Hubby didn't wake me, thinking I needed my sleep. Anyway, he informed me this morning that they had a long chat. A is going to go into detox and is starting on buprenorphine, but will not be going to a treatment center - that seems a bit pointless to me. I really feel he needs to fix the underlying problems that led him down this twisted, tortured path to start with. I am fairly certain that he suffers from bipolar disorder, though this has never been formally diagnosed. Even as a little boy, he would have wild and erratic mood swings that were very cyclical in nature. I have suggested before that he needs to be investigated for this. When I tried to find answers for his childhood behavior, I was brushed off as being a neurotic mother. Mental illness runs in both sides of his family. He knows this. Perhaps he feels there is less stigma to be diagnosed as an addict rather than mentally ill?