“We’re living here half of winter. That’s not a vacation.”
“It is. You worked without a vacation for most of Jay’s life. You want to talk about that? It’s why we’re here, vacationing for half the year. I get to call it a vacation if I want.”
I heard his sigh but knew he was smiling, that they both were.
I hesitated and considered whether I should even tell them. “Look, I’m calling with some news.”
Maybe my voice carried over the seriousness I felt but neither of them said a thing. They waited as if they knew the ball was about to drop.
“I’m in rehab.” I winced at my words, knowing that didn’t cover what I needed it to. “I’m struggling with some things, and I’ll lose the movie role I fought so hard to get if I don’t shape up.”
I cleared my throat to continue, but my mom drove our family. She’d always stepped up to take the steering wheel when we’d veered off the path and would yank on it to navigate us back onto the right road. “Oh, honey. You worked so hard to get that role. All the auditioning and practice you put in… are you okay?”
She didn’t ask why I was in rehab, what addiction had sent me there. She didn’t pry or say “I told you so.” That her first question was one of concern almost broke me. My chest hurt from the support she always gave rather than searching for a place to put the blame.
“I’ll be okay, Ma.” I didn’t admit that right then I wasn’t okay, that I wanted to break down, that it wasn’t easy and I was used to the easy road.
“What do you need from us, honey? We’ll help you overcome this in any way we can.”
Her complete acceptance and willingness to help relieved and frustrated me at the same time. I lashed out at her words. “Have you thought I had a problem this whole time?”
There was silence on the other end. I could picture them sharing a look. Then, she answered, “I’m trusting you if you admit to a problem, Jay. You wouldn’t give us this news unless it was serious. So, stop trying to find fault and focus on what you need from us to get better.”
She was our beacon of light to follow home, to follow back to the right place. I sighed, knowing my anger toward her, toward everyone and everything in that moment was misplaced. But the ball of frustration kept growing and burning a hole in my heart where my empathy was supposed to be. “I’m not sure. I just need time, I think.”
It was a clipped, vague response. She didn’t deserve it but she definitely didn’t deserve me blaming her for something.
There is something completely shameful about not having a reason for your addiction. When you’ve had the perfect life, the right friends, the good siblings that only razz you a little here and there; it is difficult to know that you fell a victim to drugs or addiction. The guilt piles on because you should have been able to work through it. I was given all the right tools growing up and still was letting everyone down.
The need to not put the blame on myself clawed its way up my throat. I wanted to scream at her and my father for never giving me bigger obstacles. I wanted to lay blame where it wasn’t warranted. But I’d been a man long enough to know better.
Instead, I called my brothers back home. I considered calling my sister in law too. She’d been my best friend in high school but she’d dealt with alcoholism in her father. I couldn’t burden her with more. She was someone I realized I had to apologize to as part of my therapy. Doing it over the phone felt much too difficult.
I took the rest of the time at the facility as seriously as I could. The director was able to film most of the scenes I wasn’t a part of during that time. They did send over contractual updates though and I was happy to see that they hadn’t included Mikka in all the details. They were cutting some of my pay, opting to have me drug tested, and pushing for more therapy. It was a stark reminder that other people had a good enough understanding of how bad my lifestyle had gotten.
So, I surrounded myself with the people that were there by choice, trying to change their lives. Those that were there as a part of their job, that cut corners, that offered me drugs and partying, I stayed away from. I attended meetings with the therapists and doctors.
I committed finally to one thing during my stay. It was getting healthy.
My therapists and doctors felt after sixty days that I was ready for outpatient care but that LA would be a toxic environment.
I called Mikka. I wanted her to pick me up, to see how much I’d changed, to see that I could be better. I wanted my friend to be proud.
When she did, I ended up not caring about any of those things at all.