Ash and I have talked often about what to include in the next blog. Not an easy decision, but we at least made one. Just so you know, we do our best to be open and honest, yet when it comes to our invading someone else’s privacy or revealing intimate details which have no bearing on the story, we are more guarded. We hope you can understand.
It was early evening when I got the call from “Rob” telling me Ashley had relapsed. I was shocked. Not so much from knowing she relapsed because as an addict’s mom, I can always have hope and belief it won’t happen again but there always has to be that little voice of reality somewhere saying it could. I guess in some ways, that is protecting me. She just had been doing so well. I knew she was stressed from the work load and attending classes but she seemed to be managing.
“Rob” said she had been acting strangely, uncharacteristically combative. I know I was trying to think and write down all he was saying but I really was pacing around the house, phone in hand, shaking my head and more than a little nauseous.
What goes through my head when I hear of a relapse is, “Oh my God! Is this it? Is my girl going to make it? What can I do? What should I do? I don’t understand. She seemed fine.” “Rob” assured me she would be okay and I asked that if anything changed for him to call me.
The call from him never came.
Instead, at around 11:00 PM, I had a call from a hospital in Riverside, California. Ashley had been brought in and they were notifying me. Right now, I still cannot tell you what they asked of me. All I remember saying was I wanted to talk with her and what the heck! She was taken away from the recovery center where she was a manager and “Rob” NEVER CALLED to tell me. That was a “WTF” moment. I was told I could not talk to her until the next morning and that someone from the hospital would call. I knew it was going to be a long, long night. I called “Rob” and kept leaving messages but no answer.
I googled the hospital. It was a mental hospital. My daughter had been taken out of her center and placed in a mental hospital. How could I sleep? Thoughts running through my head about do I grab a flight out there? Experience had taught me that even if I did, I would not be able to see her.
No one called. I began calling and calling the hospital, only hearing music on the other end. It took hours for me to get an answer and for someone to come to the phone. When a nurse answered, I asked to talk to Ash. I was told I could not. I am not normally a very pushy person but in this case, I was very adamant that I was her mother and needed to talk to her to make sure she was okay. The response was they were very busy and short staffed. We went around about this for awhile and I am almost surprised she did not hang up on me. (I would have called right back.) So, I was begging at one point. Crying. Desperate to hear my daughter’s voice. Finally, she relented and told me it might take awhile to get her to the phone. I didn’t care. I just needed to hear Ashley’s voice.
But the voice that I eventually heard on the line was not my Ash. There was nothing about her voice that sounded like my girl. It was monotone, slurry, out of it. It was very, very scary to hear. What I could make out was that they put her somewhere and people were screaming. Spreading feces on the wall. When I heard that, I became numb. What had happened??
I think this is the spot where I leave off and Ashley can catch up on this part when she is ready. Oh yes, there is more to this story.
Right now I would like to update you on the present.
Ashley received a promotion at her recovery center and is saving money to make a move back to Virginia. She is will be researching jobs back here as well as a place to live. No one could be happier than me, except for her, as to how well she is doing right now. Today.
I love my girl.