We are packing for Ben. Turns out a whole host of the boys knew he starting taking the painkillers or whatever he's on now in high doses again (the ones he said weren't necessary) and probably wasn't taking them for pain but for frustration and boredom because that's what an addict does.
They lie. (And they get people to lie for them and that's the part I'm fighting with now.)
Thanks to connections he's got a spot right away and in spite of my own and Lochlan's reluctance to be without him if he's going to go that route, setting himself back months in progress, not asking for help when he needs it and in general being too fucked up at that point to point how fucked up he was then he can go and be away.
I am really really angry. He THEY let me be scared for weeks. When we protect him from the world the reassurance from his endless doubt is what he craves and so why would he bring an end to that when it's so touching? Why would he let Daniel worry himself into migraines and sleepless nights? Why the FUCK would he want to go overseas to some stupid facility knowing his problem was as easy as showing us the wheel marks on the back of his fucking shirt?
This is the only part of Ben's addiction I can't reconcile. And I've talked to Sam, August and Schuyler, all well-versed in counselling and in being addicts. I called NOLAN. I am so fucking sad right now along with not having slept for almost thirty fucking hours which FUCKKKKKKKK.
But also relieved because Ben's broken brain is only so fixable, to a point. This is completely fixable and we keep dropping the goddamned ball.
Also there will be a family meeting tonight. Heads are going to roll. I know how charming he is but they have no excuse for not sounding the alarm.
That's why we're all fucking HERE, is it not?