He was both terrified at the thought of leaving the facilities and impatient to have a life again. He took to heart one of the main aspects of the program, which was whatever is bothering you, whoever is bothering you, however small and insignificant, please, please tell us immediately. Your happiness and peace is very important to us. Your recovery is #1 in our life. We will do anything to help you get there. He became an avid complainer. It always worked. This was his first taste in 6 years of wanting to live his life in a certain way and having control over something that was making this difficult or impossible. Of all the things he devoured here, that one helped him to take the biggest step. Control over his life control over crack. While he put everything under a microscope, in every aspect of his life, he began to separate the people around him. Those who were not interested those who were weak and those who 'might' make it. This was another mark off point for him, seeing himself and seeing those around him just as they really are. People in the program assured him continually that his recovery was his recovery. Whatever program worked, was the right one. Whatever people helped him, were the right people. He was the free agent here who could design and find exactly what he needed. He was OK. He did not have to fit into an AA program.

He could find his own personal program. If someone designated as help, and this person did not say things that had meaning to him, he had the right to reject them and find other people. In spite of this TLC, my son constantly admired those counselors who also had, a you can not bullshit me, I know all the moves tough and brutally honest, and even a little cynical. He recognized this combination as real tough love. The counselors did not spend a lot of time on how lethal crack was, or how desperate the life of a crack-head was. Most were pretty well aware of by now. There were those there who did not want to know. The whys were left to the individual to find and the what’s were stressed. Not so much here is a list of how to's, but what could work for you. In the midst of a monolithic mortally lethal substance epidemic, with no road maps, were these brave souls-the counselors and addicts were trying to find their way out of the wilderness together. That is what made it work. Together. Crack-heads do not need experts to write out a program in stone. They need people to work with them through this wilderness, pooling resources as if they were a combat unit shedding real tears when one of them did not make it. I studied his body language. I studied his words. I studied his program and for the first time I was content.

I would not hook myself into making stone chiseled proclamations. It would be 9 months out of the program before any of us would say, "I think he is going to make it". But I felt something shift in him. There was new grease in the gears. He felt it too and there were days when he knew positively that he could do it. And days when he was terrified to be out there alone again. He wanted to leave every day and get restarted on recapturing life again, but he was terrified too. As though some monster from "Alien" was out there looking for any organization of society to eliminate, and it was just him and this slimy grotesque animal to battle it out. He counted the days to his release and clung more tightly to what was around him! It seemed that no matter how strong he was, how armed, how padded, there was still this terror of this monster out there. Was he really strong enough, armed enough, and padded enough? What was enough? It was the nightmare of all nightmares. It was the creature of all creatures. AGAPE LOVE? It seems too perfect a feat for me. Maybe a mini Agape Love was achieved-sometimes.