Were we really the only ones with a child in rehab?

One Motzaei Shabbos, a few nights before our daughter Elana began high school, my husband, Etiel, and I came home to find her drunk. We had gone out for the evening, and when we came home we found her sitting on the floor, her head in her hands, crying hysterically. She was extremely nervous about starting high school, fearing that she wouldn’t fit in and wouldn’t make friends, and was palpably anxious about embarking on this next stage.

My husband and I are, at most, occasional drinkers, but we did have a bottle of scotch in the cupboard (an office gift) and some wine that we rarely used, and Elana had decided to calm her pre-high-school jitters by mixing them in a large glass and downing a drink. Shocked and concerned, we promptly sent her to a therapist to help her learn healthier coping mechanisms for dealing with stressful situations.

Elana continued therapy throughout high school. She was a brilliant student who excelled in all her classes, but she continually felt disconnected from her parents and siblings. She was diagnosed, at various points, with anxiety, depression, and ADHD, and was placed on medication. We were very attentive to her mental health needs, constantly working to get her the help she needed, but it was hard for her to connect with us, as she was unhappy with herself and, as a result, she pushed us away and did not really share her inner struggles with us.

When Elana graduated high school, she was still struggling, and we felt it would be best that she stay home with us in Teaneck, New Jersey, instead of spending the next year in seminary in Israel, as most of her classmates were doing. We wanted her to continue under professional care and slowly transition from living at home and commuting to New York for college, to living away from home while attending college. Once things were more stable and she seemed to be doing well, we felt comfortable sending her to live in New York.

While in college, Elana continued therapy and visited her psychiatrist regularly to update her prescriptions. She wasn’t living under our roof, and was already a legal adult, so she went to these appointments on her own. Overall, she seemed to be doing well. She was enjoying her courses, her grades were very good, and she was adjusting to living away from home. During her second year in college, however, we noticed that she seemed more anxious. This anxiety was triggered by stressful situations, like finals, which had caused her stress in high school as well. We were worried, but Elana assured us that she was working through these issues with her therapist, and we were confident that she would manage to work things out, as she had in the past.

Toward the end of the first semester of Elana’s third year of college, Etiel and I took her out to a restaurant for her 22nd birthday. The last thing we expected her to tell us then was, “I’m having a problem with drugs.” But that’s exactly what she said.