Chapter 43 Austin - Back in Rehab
Chapter 43
Austin - Back in Rehab
T he first time I went to rehab, I completed a program with outpatient services. That had not had the desired effect, and I continued to use alcohol to escape my feelings. Sydney was right about everything she accused me of in our fight. This time around, I decided that I needed impatient therapy, and my mom and Sydney both agreed with my assessment. I had to start facing myself, even though I wanted to point the finger elsewhere. Instead, I would spend the next twenty-eight days making an uncomfortable assessment in the mirror.
The facility I chose specialized in treating celebrities anonymously. That promise of confidentiality lured celebrities through the doors, but paparazzi still managed to sneak in under the radar and provide the tabloids with exclusive photos. That seemed like the lowest of lows to me—exploiting people during a tough time in their lives.
Rehab was not all fun and games. Meticulously maintained grounds and luxury accommodations were great, but it was still rehab. Breakfast came at the ungodly hour of 7 a.m. Group therapy sessions followed this at 8 a.m. At 10 a.m., I had a choice between several physical activities including yoga, meditation, running, and swimming. I chose swimming as my form of physical punishment. Turned out it wasn’t punishment. I quickly remembered how much I loved being in the water as a kid. I excelled in my swimming lessons and achieved each level of proficiency. Now, leisurely backstroking through the water helped clear my mind of all the clutter that collected there daily.
My therapist spent time with me at 11 a.m. Lunch gave me a tiny mental break. After lunch, we had more group therapy at 1 p.m. Then free time until dinner at 5 p.m. There were a couple of optional twelve-step meetings and support groups available after dinner. I read in my room or played cards with three or four other guys in the game room.
Nightly, I alternated between talking to my mom and talking to Sydney. I only got fifteen minutes, which frustrated me. We’d start talking awkwardly, and fifteen minutes arrived way too fast as we hurried our goodbyes. I’d hang up and think of all the things I meant to say but had forgotten.
I kept replaying the fight between Sydney and me. She didn’t hold back, unleashing all her anger and frustration at me. I meant what I said back to her, too. Her words hit their mark, and I thought about all the times she stood by me, even when she had every right to let me hang myself (metaphorically speaking). As soon as I said I was checking myself into rehab, she forgave it all. I didn’t deserve it. I didn’t deserve her. But I knew I needed to be a better man. A better friend. That’s why I’m here.
One day during morning group therapy, our group leader tried a different angle with us to prompt a discussion. “I know you’re used to listening to sad tales, horrible mistakes, and screwups. Today we’re going to take the opposite tact and share a wonderful memory. Focus on something positive that happened to you in your life. The memories are healing. Recognizing that not everything in your life is a trauma is vital to your recovery and healing process. I have everyone’s names in this paper bag. When your name is drawn, it’s your time to share.”
He held the bag open to the woman on his right. She reached in and pulled out a yellow strip of paper. The group leader announced, “Austin Mitchell gets to go first.”
I racked my brain trying to find something positive to say. I licked my lips nervously and let my eyes pan around the circle. Good things had happened to me, but putting me on the spot didn’t help. Then the light bulb went on, and I smiled as I began .
“When I started kindergarten, I heard about various places my classmates went on vacation with their families. It’s the first time I can remember hearing about this magical place called Disney World, where Mickey Mouse and all his Disney friends lived. Kids would go there on vacation and then come back to school and talk about their time there. I wanted to go there, too.
“When I asked my mom about it, she told me it took a long time to get there. At that age, I accepted her answer at face value. But by the time I hit second grade, I learned that it didn’t take long to get there if you flew in an airplane. I asked my mom again since I had concrete information.”
I described the scene as if narrating a movie:
She put her fork down and addressed me. “Do you want to visit Disney World?”
I nodded eagerly. “More than anything!”
“It costs a lot to go there. We need to save our money.”
“I know, Momma. I can give you what’s in my piggy bank. Will that be enough?”
“It’s a good start. I have an idea. Let’s put our spare change in that cider jug by the fireplace. We should have enough to go to Disney once we fill it.”
Hot diggity dog! It would be easy to fill that old jug. But time went by, and it didn’t seem we’d ever get that jar filled. I got discouraged and decided we’d never get there.
Then one morning, in fourth grade, my mom came into my room and woke me up. “Sweetie, you overslept. You’re going to be late for school.”
I hopped out of bed like a lightning bolt had hit me. “I’ll be fast, Mom. I don’t want to miss school.”
She grabbed my wrist and sat down on the bed. “Come here for a minute. I want to talk to you.”
I sat down next to her.
“How would you like to miss school today?” She ruffled my hair with her hand.
I felt confused. “Why do I need to miss school? Did something bad happen?”
“No, silly, nothing bad happened. How would you like to go to Disney World?”
It took me a moment to process her words. “Today? Really! ”
“Yes. Today.”
“I would love that!” I bounced up and down on the bed, unable to contain my excitement.
“We’ll leave for the airport in about an hour.” She stood up. “Get dressed and I’ll have scrambled eggs and Eggos ready in a few minutes.”
God, it was the most amazing surprise.
I finished up. “We flew to Disney and spent a whole week at one of the Disney resorts. We visited all the theme parks. I’d never seen my mom having this much fun. It’s a memory I truly cherish and keep close to my heart. And when she came out to visit me several months ago, I treated her to a day at Disneyland. It brought back fond memories for me of our trip many years ago. That’s my wonderful memory.”
“Thank you for sharing, Austin,” the group leader said. “That’s a hard act to follow.”
Later, I called my mom.
“Do you remember when we went to Disney World?”
“Of course, I remember that. We had the best time, didn’t we?” I could hear the smile in her voice.
“I talked about it in group therapy today. It’s one of my favorite memories of us having fun together.”
“Austin, honey, I would have taken you many more times if I’d been able. It took me two years to scrimp and save for the trip we took.”
“I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t know how much it cost.” Now I felt bad for bringing it up with her.
“You don’t need to be sorry. I’d wanted to take you since you were a little baby. I’m glad I got to take you even one time. Watching your face light up during the parade on Main Street made it worth every penny. And I sure enjoyed our day at Disneyland not too long ago.”
I couldn’t help myself. I broke down. “Mom, I’m sorry I let you down. I’ve let everyone down, but I’m going to fix it. You’ll see. I’m going to make you proud of me.” I wiped my tears on my sleeve.
“I am proud of you, sweetheart. You’re getting the help you need. I wish I could help you, but I don’t know how. And that hurts my heart. I know you will do better. ”
After I hung up, her words echoed in my ears. I skipped my usual card game and went straight to my room. I lay on my bed and contemplated how I could make amends.