Up The Mountain And Back Down
I’ll never forget the summer of 2011.
My oldest daughter, Presley, was 17 at the time and had just finished her junior year in high school. It had been her first year in public school, having attended several private schools up until then.
She led a mostly normal childhood up to this point. She played competitive soccer for most of it and made decent grades. In the spring of her seventh grade year in middle school, I began to notice changes in her, mostly behavioral. She was getting in trouble with the teachers for acting out in class and pulling pranks to get attention. Negative, positive…it didn’t seem to matter to her; attention was attention. I was called into the principal’s office more times than I can remember. It was never anything too serious, just what I call dumb decision making, or not thinking about the consequences. A great example of this was the time a couple of boys dared her to put her hand in a fire ant bed for thirty seconds. If she could, they promised to give her two dollars. She did it (without thinking about the consequences) and ended up with twenty-something ant bites up and down her arm. They never paid her the money.
We made it through the school year, barely, but after that things seemed to only get harder for her. I put her in an alternative school where the headmaster preached discipline and structure. The school’s specialty was dealing with kids with ADHD. Presley had been diagnosed with the learning disability some years back when her first grade teacher noted that she took more time to prepare to do her school work than it would have taken her to actually just buckle down and do it. The plan was to keep her at the alternative school for two years, per the headmaster’s recommendation. We were asked to leave after one.
What worked in Presley’s favor was her gift for playing soccer. She had been playing club ball since she was ten years old. She was a different child on the soccer field. She displayed confidence and great sportsmanship and a true love of the game. You could see it in her face how much she liked herself when she played soccer. Off the field she wasn’t the same. Presley was invited to guest play on other teams during important tournaments because everyone saw what we saw: the girl was special, she loved the game, and it showed. All the time she talked about playing for North Carolina some day, the holy grail of girls’ soccer. My response was always keep up your grades and you can do it!
After being asked to leave the alternative school she was lucky enough to get into the local Catholic high school, which just so happened to have a strong soccer program. Very strong in fact. The coach loved Presley and knew all about her reputation on the field. What worried me was whether her off the field behavior would haunt us. Ninth grade went pretty well. She was the only freshman on the varsity team and got a lot of playing time, taking the spot of one of the seasoned seniors. It was a good year for her, mostly.
Keeping up her grades was a constant battle for Presley. She was taking medication to help her concentrate, but she wasn’t getting the work done. She started slacking on her school work and lying to me about things. Do you have homework? No Mom, I finished it. How’d you do on your math test? I think I got an A.
It was never the correct answer.
Her sophomore year she remained mostly ineligible to play on the soccer team because she wasn’t passing her subjects. We did everything to try and help her, but 16-year-olds have to be active participants. She showed little interest in helping herself. She didn’t bother taking a driver’s education class even though I signed her up for it. I wasn’t going to force her to go; I couldn’t do everything for her. She had to do part of the work. So when her sixteenth birthday came there was no celebrating getting her license. While her other friends were driving and getting cars, Presley was sitting at home watching TV and not trying to improve her situation. She quit soccer and went through friends like disposable diapers. One day she would bring home a girl and say “This is my best friend.” Two days later I would ask about the friend and she would look at me and ask, “Who?”
The Catholic school was expensive and she didn’t show any appreciation for the money I was spending to send her there and she was barely passing. She begged me to let her go to the public high school and I couldn’t come up with anymore reasons to say no.
The thing about public high schools? They’ll let anybody go there.
Presley didn’t have any real friends. The people she called friends weren’t all that friendly. I tried to keep up with them: their names, their parents, their backgrounds. But it’s hard to be everywhere at once, especially when you’re dealing with a 17-year-old who has friends who drive. Short of putting a tracking device in her body, I relied on her to tell me her whereabouts and what she was doing.
A couple of times she burned me. Her “friends” stole things from my house. She lied about where she was and what she was doing. I grounded her more times than I can remember. She had no access to a cell phone and was on lock-down a lot of the time. It was this time in her life I was grateful she’d been lazy and not gotten her driver’s license. Small victories.
There were a few run-ins with the police too. She was caught egging someone’s house. She was out past city-mandated curfew. She got a ticket for driving without a license.
I asked her if she was doing drugs and she laughed in my face.
Then it happened.
I was away from the house for less than 24 hours. Presley was spending the night with a friend (whose mom I knew and trusted) and was not to come to the house for any reason. At nine AM the next morning I phoned Presley to let her know I was on my way back. She didn’t answer her phone, but called me from someone else’s number a short time later. She explained that her phone had been stolen (AGAIN) and that she was at home (where she wasn’t supposed to be) but could explain.
An hour later I raced into the house and couldn’t believe what I saw before me.
My house had been burgled. Most of my valuables had been stolen and the place was a wreck. Presley looked strung out and hadn’t even noticed things were missing. A gallon of milk had been poured all over the kitchen hardwood floor and the toilet in the bathroom was overflowing with the vilest filth imaginable. My bedroom door (that had been locked) was standing wide open and my panties and bras thrown all over the room. Some were hanging from the ceiling fan. My other teenage daughter’s room had been destroyed as well. It was a nightmare. I dropped to my knees and began crying out to her. “Why? Why did you do this? What is wrong with you?”
It barely phased her at all.
The details were sketchy. She’d decided (DECIDED) not to spend the night at her friend’s house and come home instead. She had nine guys over and they all took Xanax bars and drank beer. Some time after she passed out, they vandalized the house and stole all my things. Then they left, but not before stealing her iPhone.
I was able to reach one of the boys who had been at my house and told him he had exactly one hour to return all my things or I would find him and shove my fist up his ass (pardon my French). Presley kept following me around the house, begging me not to be mad at her. I screamed in her face, “Leave me alone!” before slamming the back door and getting into my car. I drove to CVS and bought a drug test.
She tested positive for Xanax. But that was all. That was enough.
The worst part of the whole event was the lack of remorse from Presley. It wasn’t there. She was hollow, completely disconnected from what was happening. It scared me like I’ve never been scared before.
Three boys showed up within an hour and returned all the things they stole from me. Of course, they weren’t the ones who took everything, but they were able to “track down” the “real” perpetrator. I grabbed the stuff from their arms and looked them in the face and shook my head.
A year-and-a-half later Presley’s response after they left still leaves me breathless and sick to my stomach. Mom, aren’t you glad you got your stuff back? Are you going to be mad at me all day? Can’t we just be happy you got it back? I’m hungry. Maybe we could go get something to eat and see a movie? I don’t know if you know this about me but I get over stuff pretty fast. What happened last night is in the past. Let’s move forward.Â
I knew then this was more than I could handle. I needed help. She needed help.
I called my dad and he came over and together we got online searching for something; Anything that might help me deal with all of this stuff that was bigger than me.
I talked to several counselors at several programs across the nation. The next day I drove Presley to a hospital downtown for an assessment. After interviewing her (it didn’t go well, I was told) it was their recommendation that I get her out of her environment. So that’s what I did.
After talking with a few more program directors I found one I really loved. It was a wilderness program in Utah. There was a mountain of paperwork to fill out, questions to answer, decisions to make. It was going to drain every dollar of my savings to send her. But I had no choice. I had to help her, no matter the cost.
It was a week before they had a spot available for her. During that time I cried a lot. I paced a lot. I worried a lot.
You generally have two options when you decide to send your kid to rehab. You can A) take her there yourself and endure hours of pleading and begging and crying; or B) hire a transport team to take her.
I opted for Plan B, which meant spending more money. Still, I didn’t think I could handle the other option.
The night before she was going to be plucked from her sleep and taken 1600 miles from home we went to her favorite restaurant, Outback Steakhouse, and watched Shawshank Redemption on TV.
I gave her a tight hug and kissed her goodnight around 11 PM and then went to my bedroom and cried myself to a restless, tortured sleep.
At 4 AM the transport team (made up of a married couple whose job it is to take kids cross country by airplane) knocked on the front door. Having been up for nearly an hour sick to my stomach with nerves and general anxiety, I let them in. We talked for a few minutes and then the husband instructed me what to do next. They followed me up the stairs and down the hallway. I could hear my heart beating through my chest and wondered if they could hear it too.
I opened the door to the bedroom where Presley was sleeping and flipped on the light. Naturally she jumped up, startled. “Presley,” I began. “I love you very much. This is Dave and Renee and they are going to take you to a youth program in Utah. I love you. I’ll see you very soon.”
And then I left her screaming my name. I never looked back. I made it to my room and shut the door before I collapsed in a heap on the floor. My legs were shaking, my stomach was churning, and I thought any minute I would lose my mind. What was I doing? Was I making the right decision? Was she going to be OK?
I stopped breathing and listened at the door. She was still screaming and cussing at them to get away from her. She yelled out my name over and over again. I covered my ears to try and block out the noise. A few minutes later it was quiet. The house was dark and still. I got up off my knees and went to the bedroom window. There, walking across the lawn, were Presley and the couple who were taking her from me.
The husband texted and phoned me several times during the transport. At first Presley cried a lot. Then she fell asleep. Then she asked them questions about where she was going. Then she talked about me and how much she loved me and how funny and talented I am and how I’m the best mom in the world.
Even now, that part always makes me cry. I was sure she would hate me for sending her away. But she swears she was never mad at me. Not even for a second.
The program lasted three months. I got to talk to her once a week. I got to talk to her therapist once a week. I got to visit her after 42 days. She smelled like the outdoors and of campfire. But she looked great. She was the little girl I used to know. It was so good to have her back. Her eyes were clear. She smiled all the time. She healed whatever the hurt was.
She’s been home since September 11, 2011. And even though she’s not perfect, she’s better than she’s ever been. Just yesterday she pulled out her photos and letters from her friends on the mountain and talked about how much she loved being there.
She’s even talking about going to work there as a counselor. I would miss her terribly if she packed up and moved to Utah, but the kids there who are going through what she went through would benifit greatly from being around her. She’s…special.
If you’re experiencing trouble with your teen, here is the link to the program we attended.Â
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My parents put my brother into drug rehab much the same way. As a sibling it was hard enough, I cannot imagine doing it as a parent, but I admire you. You did what you thought was best and it was. You’re a good mom. Thanks for sharing your story.
I don’t have any words. I am in tears, and sending you both so much love through the screen.
This is so intense. As the parent of a 17 yo boy and 21 yo girl, my heart goes out to you. Is Presley okay with you publishing this? I’m sure it took a lot of courage and heartbreak and will help many, many parents. Thank you!
I don’t have any words to explain how much I want to reach out and hug you both. I won’t pretend to understand what you’ve been through, but I do understand the feeling of losing control over everything.
Love to you both.
Tears are running down my face….and I have no words. Just amazement for your strength and happiness for your daughter being better.
Shauna,
I am not putting my real name in the published part, but you will know who I am from the email address.
For the past year we have been going through something similar with our daughter, also 17. Last March, she moved out for four months. When she moved back in, we thought everything was going to be so much better, but it wasn’t. She wasn’t doing drugs (we found out through the same type of testing) and thankfully she didn’t allow us to be burgled by her ‘friends’ (though I can’t even imagine your pain with that), but she was constantly pushing us away. She wouldn’t talk, would barely interact with her siblings, would frequently disappear and not tell us where she was going or who she would be with. She frequently texted my sister in law asking her to pick her up and take her away. In November, our family had a personal bombshell. We had a huge issue to deal with. She stopped talking to me altogether and stopped going to school. She wouldn’t even look me in the eye for days on end. When she did talk to us, she kept on saying how much she hated her life. That she had no friends. That she felt no connection to anyone.
Then she attempted suicide.
It’s mandatory where we live for any attempt which puts the person in the hospital or which is reported means a three day lockdown in the hospital mental health ward. She was transported there. We couldn’t even see her until the next day. Then, after the three days, her doctor extended her mandatory stay for another week.
She begged, pleaded, cried for us to get her out, but since she is 17, we had no legal rights to do so, not that we would have, she needed the help.
She finally persuaded her doctor to take her off the involuntary form and put her on a voluntary one (so that she could go outside to smoke) and the next day, she left AMA.
Since then she is back to her ways of living her life and keeping us at arm’s distance as much as possible. She keeps saying she will follow through with the outside help that has been offered to her, but it hasn’t happened yet.
We are at our wits end with her. We don’t know what to do. Presley’s program sounds amazing and I’m really glad it worked for you and for her, but it’s not in the realm of what we can do for our daughter. I’m just so scared of her turning 18 this summer because then my hands will literally be tied in a legal sense of what I can and cannot do for her.
There is nothing more heartbreaking than to see your child in pain and not be able to help them.
I’m really happy that Presley is doing better and I’m so incredibly proud (I hope that doesn’t sound silly) of you and in awe of you for having the strength to do what you could to get her well.
Thank you for sharing your story, Shauna. Truly.
Holy shit you’re brave. No, maybe brave is the wrong word. Strong, I think, is better. You are so very strong—for sharing, for living through it, and for continuing to do the work.
Having a brother that has been an addict the better part of my whole life, i can relate. I only wish my parents had had the strength to handle this the way you did. I wonder how different our path could have been, how much pain we could have been spared if my mom had the strength you showed. Bravo!
We are in the process of yet another intervention for my adult niece (21) I wish there was someplace like this we could send her to. Being an adult it’s a lot harder to make her stay in a place she doesn’t want to be. I’m so glad this worker out for you!! Good luck!
Sending you hugs and love. Thank you for sharing such a gut wrenching and personal part of your life. I so admire you for what you did to help Presley. I can only imagine how difficult that night was. I was so happy to read that you have your little girl back, (both physically and mentally). Please give Presley a big hug from me – a total stranger – that cares about you and your family. You are both in my thoughts.
Shauna, you are an amazing mother. Period.
Wow- what a gut wrenching story. I can’t begin to imagine what you both went through, and I’m so sorry you had to go through it.
Did they ever diagnose what was going on with Presley, beyond ADHD? Or was there something that triggered it all? Maybe it’s just my need to quantify actions to understand then better. Unfortunately, a lot of what you described, I can see in my own daughter right now, and quite honestly- that scares the crap out of me.
Much love to both of you. <3
Thank you for sharing your journey with us.
This touches such strong, difficult memories for me of my struggles wi my first born. I could never write about it as it was in the infancy of parent blogging when we all were perfect with perfect children. Now she is a lovely, talented mother of two and, for the first time, a good friend as well as my daughter. Like yours, she has ADHD and was self medicating and engaging in some dangerous activities with dangerous people she called friends. Those were the hardest times being her mother as well as mother to her four siblings.
Thank you for sharing you and your daughter’s experience. I pray it touches another family who feels so alone in their situation.
You are incredible. I can’t even begin to imagine nor do I want to. You did what you had to do. I wish I were there to give you the most giant hug in the world. xoxoxo
Shauna and Presley I am so happy you are able to share your REAL story ! It was amazing to read! I am so proud of you Presley! You are a special person who is loved and cared about more than you know! Michael and I and the boys will always be here to love and support you!
Shauna I am in awe of your story and how brave you were to make hard decisions that had to be made out of love! You are a great mom!
You are such an amazing person and an amazing mom. Thank you for sharing this story. This had me in tears. I know that this will help several people. I just know it.
Lawsey. Reading that brought back the exact scene from my house June 4, 1996. It was the second time my sister was being sent to a wilderness program, but this time my parents couldn’t bear to take her. I remember the tears. The pleading. The bargaining. And I remember my parents broken and destroyed
Here we are almost 17 years later and my sister is still alive. She would not have been if not for that program & the counseling that followed.
I can’t imagine as a mother how hard that was, but based on the smile in the picture and her attitude today you KNOW you did the best thing for her.
[...] And what happened to that baby that was here? I read this post about a Mama’s decision to check her teenager daughter into rehab, and then I read this post about another Mama’s decision to have the sex talk with her [...]
you are such a good mother sometimes the best things to do are the hardest i wish you and your daughter tons of good luck and happiness
It must be so hard to see your daughter go through this. You say she has been diagnosed with learning disabilities? Did you know that a lot of kids with learning disabilities also have social skills deficits? Has she been in a social skills class or had any social skills training? I was like her in many ways growing up, and a lot of it was because my learning disability, combined with some problems in my family life (alcoholic dad, depressed mom) made it really hard for me to form friendships. I would look into what her underlying unmet needs are that are causing her to act out. There is a book called “The Unwritten Rules of Friendship” — which is geared towards elementary school kids but might help her, too. Good luck.
Wow! I could have written this! Started in 7th grade. My daughter played softball. She was great, they called her the cleanup batter. Grades dropped, couldn’t get her to do homework. 8th grade sent her to a private Christian school. I feel like she came away more rebellious. She was hit in the face with hypocrisy and wasn’t prepared. 9th grade was a disaster, she went to public high school. It seemed that she could not focus on more than 3 subjects at a time. One day she came home from school and said that she just can’t hear what the teacher is saying. I thought she had a hearing problem at first, and then I realized it was a focus problem. She was diagnosed with ADD and started medication. Things seemed to get better for a while, however you can’t drink alcohol and take ADD meds and anti-depressants. Always trying to stay one step ahead of her was exhausting. I was monitoring her internet chat and Myspace and even put a GPS on her phone. Sophomore year started out with the same. I decided to pull her out before they could kick her out. I put her in alternative school where she could do one subject at a time. I hoped that she would get a job, work and become responsible. The next year was hell. I picked her up from the hospital and police station several times. She was in the back seat of a car that crashed into a CHP officer at 3AM. I had to get her from the hospital thinking the worst, of coarse she came out without a scratch. She had no desire to get her drivers license, was fired from her job and not completing her work in school. I called all over and spoke to treatment centers, wilderness programs etc. I had known many parents who had spent thousands sending kids to these programs only to have them come home and do the same. I didn’t have the money and wasn’t convinced it would work. Finally one night I got a call from her friends dad saying that she was drunk and belligerent and fighting. I had already made the decision to put her in a local treatment hospital and called to say that we were coming. They told me that I had to take her to the ER first, they couldn’t take her unless she was medically cleared. I got her in the car and started on the freeway. She wanted to know where we were going, I told her Burger King. Once she realized I was lying she freaked out and started kicking the windshield and trying to get out of the car. She started screaming that she was going to kill herself. I called 911 and tried to let them know where I was so they could come and rescue me. They didn’t. I pulled up at the ER and just started screaming. They came and got her and put her in a room. The next 24 hours was horrible. I cried non-stop and was not prepared to watch my daughter detox. I thought she had anxiety and the nurses tried to tell me gently that she was detoxing. I was still in denial. It took her 48 hours to have a clean blood alcohol level, then they transferred her to a psych hospital. Because it was a holiday weekend she was lucky enough to get a 5 day stay.
After that we did outpatient rehab with an on-site school. It included a lot of great therapy for her and the family. We met some great people and learned a lot about ourselves. She made it 90 days clean and then turned 18 and decided that she wasn’t going anymore and we couldn’t make her. We told her that she would have to go live in a sober living. That lasted about 2 weeks. She got a job close to home and made all the excuses why she had to live at home. She finally got her license at 18 1/2. She has held down a part time job for over a year now, hasn’t had any tickets or accidents. Still hasn’t finished high school, she has 2 credits to finish. Continues to procrastinate everything. Doesn’t take any prescription medication. Self medicates with marijuana. I am still praying that she will grow up. I’m happy that she is alive but wish so much more for her. Call me co-dependent. I know I should kick her out but always fear the worst. My heart goes out to parents who have to deal with this. I have no advice, just empathy.
My younger brother is also ADHD and was into painkillers as well. He also stole from my parents and myself, thought none of us got anything back (all jewelry, some pieces passed down thru generations). It was incredibly difficult but amazing to see what you get thru as a family. It’s also unbelievable how many ADD/HD kids struggle with addiction. More light needs to be brought to this, especially when prescription drugs are so readily available to teens.
My son just returned from 1.5 years in residential treatment — first wilderness, then a boarding school. While drug issues were not his main problem, I am convinced they would have figured more prominently had we not gotten him help when we did. He is a different kid now, for the first time in his life able to be accountable and recognize his choices have consequences. So many people criticize parents for a) having a kid with behavior issues and b) sending the kid to residential. But when a kid is this out of control, it is the only responsible thing to do. Thank you for your honesty — your piece will help a lot of parents.
You have done a very courageous thing as a mother. Our family has endured a similar story and finally sent our daughter to rehab on the opposite coast. They told us the physical addiction takes a year to resolve but the emotional recovery takes much longer. The worst thing to do is bring them back to the same environment before they are ready.it took our daughter 3 years. Hopefully you are going to al anon meetings. It was our salvation in getting thru and learning the tools to stop enabling her. We were not going to cure her or control her. But we could contribute to the behavior without guidance from alanon. Our daughter has been clean and sober for over 4 years now and I still go to meetings. It has been of tremendous help to us not only in dealing with her, but in our normal lives as well. Good luck to you!
Wow!! We are about to pick our 17 yr old up from the Mountain. I cried through your whole article. Many parts are just like us. It really touched my heart. Our son has completed the 15 wk program extremely successfully and has become the person we knew. I can see the young man him now!! We are super excited and a little nervous to start the next phase of his life. The program has changed our lives. It far more than a re-hab program. It teaches people how to live again. Most likely saved our son’s life!!! I can’t put it into words my feelings at this point. Thank you for sharing