by Dr. George Kalaras
I am sitting at my desk in my office thinking about “that day” with tears of joy. December 16 is not a birthday. It is a significant anniversary for me. Fifteen years ago on December 16, 2000, I had not slept a wink the night before. It wasn’t because I was up snorting cocaine, I was actually clean for eight days at this point, but because of how scared, nervous, and ashamed I was over where I was going the next day.
I was up really early and I had the freedom to run, but where was I to go? I had accepted in my heart that where I was going that day was indeed where I should be. I was headed to Transformation Life Center (TLC), a facility that houses men with life-controlling issues. I remember having only two suitcases that contained everything I owned. With my mom by my side, we left on an afternoon flight from O’Hare Airport and flew into Stewart Airport in Newburgh, NY. When we landed two men approached me and one of them asked me in a deep southern accent, “Are you George?” I said yes, and he replied, “I’m Steve. I am your driver for tonight. Let me take your suitcases.” We drove for about 40 minutes with some small talk peppered in. When we finally got off of I-87, we took some back roads up a mountain. Now my heart started to race furiously and I wanted out! I remember thinking to myself, “If I want to leave, how in the world am I going to make it out of here? I am out in the middle of nowhere!” As we pulled up to TLC, I thought, “How did I end up here?” The 19 years leading up to that point was just a blur, but that day was — and is — crystal clear in my mind.
With my mom still by my side, I thought, “How incredibly hurt and disappointed she must be with me.” I cannot imagine how difficult it must have been for her to watch her son, her firstborn, her pride and joy, her “leventi” going into rehab. She kept her tears back and so did I. We drove up Chad Lane and were escorted up the side of hill to the dorm where I would be living at for the next year. They brought me to the bed I would be sleeping in and left us alone. I remember only silence while she helped me unpack. I remember her helping me make my bed, and helping me unpack my suitcases and neatly putting all my clothes in the drawers.
It was like time was at a complete standstill. I did not want her to leave. I wanted this nightmare to end! I wanted to wake up as a 15-year-old playing basketball for St. Demetrios Greek Orthodox Church without a care in the world. I wanted to go back in time when I tried my first drug and scream at that 12-year-old boy, “Don’t try drugs! EVER! EVER!! It’s a lie!!! You will lose everything you hold dear and end up in rehab!!”
I remember my mom taking her time because I knew full well she did not want to leave my side, but the time had come where she needed to leave. I remember her breaking down crying and telling me how proud she was of me. I could not believe it at the time because from my perspective I was a 31-year-old grown man with nothing but two suitcases of hand-me-down clothes. I had sold everything, — all my Armani suits and wardrobe, my possessions, my car — all of it, for cocaine. But she saw the “real” George, she saw the man in me, the person that I could become, the man I am today. She saw the future. I was stuck in the past but she was looking into my future.
Today I remember what my mother did for me 13 years ago. I will never forget it. Thank you, and I love you, Mom.