As I walked out of the rehab center I couldn’t help but wonder what had happened. I knew I had help contribute but I wouldn’t think it would get out of control like that. It was all that clouded my mind for the next few days. It was my fault he was there I would drive him to where he needed to go. I helped my own brother end up in rehabilitation center for drugs.
I could only stand to visit him once in his thirty day stay. It was a very humbling experience. I could barely walk into the center. I was extremely scared; was he going to be different at all. I finally got to where he was staying it was pretty boring place, everything was either white or light blue. There were only a few rooms other than the sleeping areas a room with a TV, a kitchen, and the bathrooms there were extremely plain. There was a central room where everyone could talk and that’s where they held group sessions. But I didn’t get to see where he slept, group therapy session started as soon as I got there.
The session was very annoying; the lady leading it made me extremely upset. I don’t know what it was about her I think it was her voice but I can’t quite remember. As it got to my brothers turn to talk about what he did I became very uncomfortable, not knowing what to expect.
He began talking about what he did and it blew me away how deep it went, I was speechless. He talked about how he would smash some pills and snort them and then chase it with marijuana. I sat there dumbfounded. That I had driven him to buy that stuff and now he was in a rehab center for that.
After the therapy session a few people came up to me and started to talk to me about how great I was, it was pretty ironic. They told me how much courage I had for going to visit my brother and they told me that none of their siblings had visited them and probably never would. I felt a little better after I heard those things but I couldn’t shake that feeling that it was my fault.
The afternoon was winding down now and was had to leave so they could eat and go to another meeting. I couldn’t confront him about how I felt; our family doesn’t work like that. So I said good bye to him and walked out to the car. As I left I was almost in tears because I had put him in there.
Driving home I realized something he had been doing drugs for a long time and it was only until he moved back home that I had helped him. He still would have done drugs but I just made it easier for him to get them but that would not have stopped him. I found some solace it that but to this day I have the feeling of why didn’t I tell him no. But it does not matter now because after he got out of rehab he fell back into his old routine so it really didn’t matter but I vowed not to help him anymore and I haven’t and will never again help in those ways.
If you enjoyed this essay, please consider making a tax-deductible contribution to This I Believe, Inc.