My brother is in a rehab center in Bakersfield, The Salvation Army. He’s been there for 3 months and has 3 more to go before he can go home, and I’ve been to visit him a number of times – going again this coming weekend.
Sam’s drug of choice is meth. He’s been a drug addict for more than half of his life, using, going sober, using, going sober again, so it’s a constant cycle for him and for people who love him. His recent rehabilitation, like his last one, was court-ordered. He spent a month in jail and then was bused out to Bakersfield for work with The Salvation Army.
He and I talked before he went to jail – before he was arrested – about drug use and he was really open about the impact of it. I told him I’m glad I escaped addiction, since I was doing speed for a year or so in my early 20s. He told me that the drug I was taking back then was nothing compared with the meth of today. It’s powerful, it’s so so bad. The impact on individuals and families and communities is huge from the psychological to the environmental to the physical.
When he was using, I experienced my brother both as someone I loved and equally didn’t trust. I didn’t know when he’d show up, I didn’t know when he’d ask for something, I didn’t recognize him when I saw him. His eyes were shifty, and when they weren’t shifty they looked like they were trying really hard to show everything was OK. His whole body was working hard – the best acting job making believe he was healthy and happy.
The truth was that he wasn’t even close to happy. He was deep in the hellish world of meth abuse. His son, my dear nephew Liam, died in 2005, and Sam went back to drugs after a few years’ sobriety during Liam’s short life. When Liam died people understood, on some level, why Sam started doing drugs again; after all, what better reason to want to escape from life is losing a child?
When I see him at the center, I’m struck by his clarity and integrity. He’s happy to be off meth, he’s happy to be involved in a Sunday morning band and working testing electronic equipment. He looks me in the eyes now with love and connection. It might all be bullshit, but the gift I’ll selfishly take from this is that I get to have my brother for this six months. I get to spend time with a man I enjoy talking with. I love him so much.
That’s why I drive to Bakersfield to see him. He’s my amazing brother and I have faith in him… even though I can’t be sure he’ll be sober when he gets out, I know he is now. That’s what matters to me.
I am so grateful for all the tools he’s learning at The Salvation Army and the people he’s working with. It’s profound to witness someone I care about so much turning around completely and being dedicated to the process.