"What's a tourniquet?" Yeah. He actually said that. Along with, "I have no idea how that thing got in my pocket." And, "I thought you had to use a belt or something for stuff like that."
I've struggled with the idea of addressing this issue on the blog. But then I realized the people who are my "regulars", the ones who read me daily--not just because they Googled "Victoria Beckham's $200,000 Birkin Handbag", might be interested. Or maybe even care.
My youngest son, Hunter is in rehab for heroin abuse. Yes. The one I'm constantly promoting, whether it's for his music, his modeling, or the funny things he says; yeah, my baby. My 19 year old baby boy put a needle full of black tar heroin in his arm...over and over.
He was always beautiful, talented, funny and smart. An old soul. Hunter's kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Young, wrote on his first little report card that he was, "reserved and classy". I thought that was an odd thing to say about a five year old, but took it as a compliment.
Hunter never went through the awkward stage that most teenagers do. He was never gawky, clumsy or even struggled with bad skin. The Seattle Models Guild signed him when he was 12; his photographs appeared in a Nintendo ad campaign, wherein a cartoon character was created based on his image; he was featured in an independent film, Cthulhu when he was 15. Throughout all of this, music was the one constant in his heart. Hunter writes and performs his own music and is a self-taught guitarist. (Ugh. This sounds like either a resume or an "in memoriam".) I'm trying to describe this boy, the boy who wrote a song called, "Heroin Confessions" about a friend of his who was addicted. He sings about how "he could never dive into that". It turns out that "friend" was the one who administered that first shot of heroin into Hunter's vein. I realize it was Hunter's choice. He gave consent. I realize, too, that I want to beat that "friend" with his own limbs after I have torn them from his body.
So. Hunter called 911 on himself on Monday. Alex, Hunter's only brother, confronted him about the tourniquet that was found in his jeans. He denied, denied, denied. Alex warned him, though. If he found out that Hunter had lied, he would have no contact with him or his baby nephew, Felix. Even though I questioned Hunter and his dad did as well, we didn't pose the threat that Alex did in Hunter's life. The very idea of losing his best friend--his older brother, Alex, must've been more than he could stand.
After a brief stay at the hospital for detox, he was transferred to the County detox center. This is a facility for homeless drug addicts mostly. He was given food that was also provided to the county's jailed criminals. Luckily, Hunter's case-worker took a personal interest in him and called me to say he should be in a different type of facility and she would help in getting him placed. She did, and we are forever grateful to dear Laura.
Umm. It's hard to concentrate on THIS when The Office is on in the corner of my eye. Hey, I'm being honest. No more secrets and no more lies, OKAY?
I do try to find humor in things, after I've flipped out, gotten a migraine and told the entire family, friends and internet community about my particular issue. Did I mention that Hunter's detox and rehab has coincided to the DAY from when I was doing my own stint in rehab for anorexia last year? To the DAY?? What the goddamned hell?
I guess now I'm kinda committed to give updates. I will.
So. What's up with you guys?
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