Why we moved to Costa Rica, Part 6: Dad goes to rehab.

Dad went to rehab for the first time when I was 15. He had been working as a janitor at the church I went to with my friends. He drunkenly wrecked his bike on the way to work and showed up drunk with his head cut and bleeding badly. The leaders there had him committed - it was the right thing to do. I was embarrassed.

There was a Jekyll and Hyde nature to my dad. Yes, he was the funny, charming man who made friends everywhere he went...

But by evening he'd roll up to the house and I would brace for impact. He'd be drunk, maybe blackout. He'd walk in angry - maybe there was a dish in the sink, maybe he'd gone looking for me and couldn't find me, maybe...he just needed to let out some of the pain. He'd yell and scream, and I'd cry and scream, and eventually my eyes would swell up and I'd be taking big rasping breaths of air. He'd realize what he'd done, and apologize. He always apologized. I could never understand - why does it keep happening if he's so sorry?

I was 16 the next time he went to rehab. I had gotten my driver's license, so I went to visit him. It was strange and wonderful to see him sober again. With bright eyes he asked if I would pick him up when he was released. On the way home that day he asked me sheepishly, could we please stop at the gas station? He'd like to pick up a 6 pack, but just one, and it isn't a whole case anyways. I was crushed.

I had been living on and off for a while with my best friends family for years. Her mom, Jane, had become a mother to me when I needed one so badly. Family vacations, school clothes shopping, sleepovers that lasted for days. They included me and took care of me in ways my dad was no longer able to. His disease was getting worse and worse. Their family and their home became a safe place for me to feel like a normal kid.

One day I called Jane and said I couldn't do it anymore, could she please come pick me up? We sat around the kitchen table, Jane and Scott watching my tears with soft, concerned eyes. With a tight, warm hug Jane said into my hair "You don't have to go back." I never lived with my dad again.

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Madelyn, Jacalyn, Eliza - thank you for choosing to be my sisters. The older we get the more grateful I am to have you to lean on, and the more I realize just how special our bond is. I love you

Jane and Scott, thank you for choosing to be my parents. I was able to become the woman I am today because of your steady, safe, unconditional loving support. I love you.

To be continued in Part 7.