GETTING READY TO LEAVE REHAB

With teenage brothers Nicolas and Julian struggling with crack
addiction that was tearing the family apart, their parents sought help
at the Portage rehab centre in the Laurentians. In Chapter 6 of the
family's story, the parents and teens attend group therapy sessions

The end of September, with an Indian summer casting long shadows over
Lake Echo, brothers Nicolas, 17, and Julian, 15, entered a crucial
phase in their rehab program - preparing to move back home with their
parents.

During their next eight weeks at the Portage treatment centre for
addicted teens, they would have four therapy sessions with three other
addicts, along with their respective parents. Counsellors Benoit
Lauzon and Marie-Chantal Bergeron would guide the work.

"It's like when we get a new apartment, or buy a house," Bergeron
explained to the group sitting in a circle in a small room, empty save
for a large pool table. "We're taking out the old, installing the new
and rebuilding the family."

Parents Jennifer de Freitas and Rodolfo Borello were becoming
increasingly anxious about the reinsertion of their sons, Nicolas and
Julian, into their home. They dreaded the phone ringing off the hook
and people dropping by the house at all hours, and knew they were
going to have to set some boundaries. But perhaps more important, the
two were slowly realizing that years of avoiding deep, meaningful
conversation had taken a toll on their marriage and, by extension, on
their family.

The sons were anxious about the disintegration of the family and the
possibility of relapse.

The first two group therapy sessions elicited little from the Borello
family. When the group got together for the second therapy session,
Nicolas was in a good mood - he'd been made chief of the whole place
that day and given the responsibility of ensuring everyone was doing
their chores.

Julian, who'd hit the five-month mark, was wearing a medallion around
his neck that Nicolas had bought him on one of his visits home.
Engraved on it was the serenity prayer, a mantra of many addicts: "God
give me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage
to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the
difference."

Nicolas was wearing a medallion on which he'd had engraved "It's just
too easy."

"It's just too easy," he explained, "to give up and go back to taking
drugs."

He had only a few weeks to go and, like most residents nearing the
finish line, was filled with fear of taking that first puff.

"I don't want to relapse, because I'll go nuts," he said. "I'll sell
everything at home to get crack. Once you start, you can't stop."

Jennifer, who'd been suffering severe anxiety and depression, had
decided to take a leave from the full-time teaching job she had
started just the year before. She'd been reading self-help books about
women who decide to make themselves happy, even if it means hurting
others.

At the third group therapy session, as soon as Nicolas started
speaking, his younger brother, Julian, started to bite what was left
of his fingernails, Bergeron observed. Why was that? What was going
on?

"I feel very inferior to him," Julian said, his long, gangly body
slumped down in the chair. "It's something I have to work on because I
can't leave here as long as it's like that.

"I have to express my feelings more with my brother, and talk to him
more. I have to stop comparing myself to him."

"Before going home, you have to know why you were unable to express
yourself before," Bergeron said. "There was a blockage in
communication before and if you want to change, you have to identify
the reason for the blockage."

"It's not really a blockage," the boys' father, Rodolfo Borello, piped
up in a soft voice, his French halting. "It's the way we talk with
each other. It's a question of respect and understanding the needs of
the other. There was respect missing between us."

Rodolfo admitted in an earlier session that there were times he found
it easier to stay late at the office than to come home and face the
emotional turmoil that had taken hold there.

Jennifer, in her need to avoid conflict at all cost, tried to fix
things, to organize everyone. But throughout this session, she had
been sitting silent, madly picking at her chewed nails and cuticles.
Finally, she piped up, her voice shaking as she searched for the
French words to convey her thoughts. "We've talked a lot about doing
more things together, but for me, that's secondary.

"We need to talk more deeply, which I find difficult. I want to talk
about my fears, and I'm riddled with them, but I'm not used to talking
about my problems with (my sons) because I don't want to put more
stress on their shoulders."

Just a few days earlier, Julian had called home, upset about what the
family had discussed on the weekend. "I felt guilty about raising
things that made him feel bad," Jennifer said, looking at her youngest
son, whose eyes were filled with tears. The upsetting news: she and
Rodolfo had decided to separate.

As Portage residents finished up their dinner of chicken thighs,
mashed potatoes and corn on the evening of the fourth session in
November, a dark-haired girl stood and raised her hand in the air -
the sign for all to be quiet. "I'm supposed to be going home," she
said, her voice cracking and eyes filling with tears. "But I'm scared
and think I need to stay longer, so I am."

Lauzon, a graduate of Portage and now the counsellor doing follow-up
therapy with those who complete their program, put down his fork and
stood up.

"Everyone gets this feeling," he said. "You're in Phase 6 and the day
is coming when you'll be done, then the day is here. There's a lot of
emotion, insecurity and anxiety, but you don't have to react this way.

"When I finished my own therapy, I blew it just three months later,"
he continued. "Today it's been eight years since I finished, and if I
hadn't had that relapse (and come back to Portage), I wouldn't be here
today.

"You have to set a date," he said to the girl.

After dinner, Julian began the last meeting in an upbeat mood, after
having just been appointed chief of all Portage residents for the next
two weeks. But within minutes, he was wiping tears from his face.

"We have a good relationship," he said. "It'd be better if we stay
together, and not be some kind of fucked-up family."

"I understand," Jennifer said softly, looking straight at Julian. "We
don't know what's going to happen in this life. Our family had a
problem with communication, but never with love.

"It's worrisome for me, for Rodolfo and for Nico."

Jennifer continued, trying to explain why she needed to leave the
family home, at least temporarily. "I need to take care of myself
because I don't think it's good for anyone to come home when I'm sad
or stressed."

"I'm not worried," said Nicolas, in his characteristic cool way.
"Maybe it'll be for the better. Since we've been here, you two have
had more time together and if things aren't going well for you, they
won't go well for us, either."

Bergeron turned to Julian, a kid who is mostly legs, dressed in a
sweat jacket, pants and running shoes. He was still crying.

"I think you're feeling guilty for what happened in the past and that
your parents are having problems because of it, and that worries me,"
she said. "Are you afraid to be forgotten or abandoned?"

"No," Julian replied. "What I'm afraid of is my mom can't share her
feelings and she's isolated."

"It's normal and healthy to feel pain, Julian, but the decision your
parents make is theirs and has nothing to do with you."

"What happens, happens," he shrugged, looking at the floor. "I have to
accept it."

"You seem to be angry," Bergeron coaxed further, with no response.
"We're raising this not as criticism, but because I feel you feel
guilty. And if you don't get it out, you'll be afraid to say something
at home for fear of throwing oil on the fire."

Nicolas sat up straight in his chair and said he was
afraid

Julian would have a relapse once they finished.

"I feel like everyone around me is pessimistic," he said. "My mom is
hurt that my brother is hurt. I'd like to intervene and fix
everything, but I can't."

A Family's Fight Against Crack

Julian, Nicolas and their parents agreed to share their very personal
story with The Gazette in the hope of helping others battling addiction.

Saturday: Chapter 1 - A drug problem uncovered.

Sunday: Chapter 2 - Nicolas on the road to rehab.

Monday: Chapter 3 - Julian makes it to Portage.

Tuesday: Chapter 4 - Sticking with the program. Daily life in rehab.

Yesterday: Chapter 5 - Support group for parents. What went wrong?

Today: Chapter 6 - Family therapy.

Tomorrow: Chapter 7 - Bringing the boys home.

To read this story online or to catch up on chapters that you've
missed, go to www.montrealgazette.com