It was a very long day. My husband and I did manage to get some shopping in and get a bite of lunch. That was good. Traffic wasn’t very bad so the hundred mile drive didn’t take to long. Also good.
Then we had family therapy. I was prepared to dislike this newest councilor. I don’t. If she is as she appeared, she is very good. The first hour was my husband and I vomiting our life with youngest. The sad thing is,before we even started, she was telling us youngest may never be safe to come home. From what we heard from her he was about mid level for his own behavior spectrum. What she told us we could handle at home.
The second hour was with our son. We brought him homemade Christmas cookies and some books. He ate a few cookies. He was fine for a while. He came in with his pants hanging off his backside. Considering they were elastic waist khakis he looked more ridiculous than gangsterish.
He also smelled bad. I don’t think he has washed his hair or used soap in a while. His clothes were clean-he just wasn’t.
We didn’t make it thirty minutes before he started to get agitated and verbally abusive. He went to about a sixty to sixty five on his behavior scale. The funny thing is when I asked how he was doing he told us he was acting out at a fifty. He really was half way on his scale.
His councilor asked for an escort to take him back to the dorm. She went and got him by herself, but didn’t feel safe taking him back. He was only to the muttering,cussing,finger drumming , showing the whites of his eyes stage. He hadn’t even postured. His therapist told him point blank she would not allow him to be released home if she felt he would be unsafe. It wasn’t our decision. It was hers. She told him we were involved and had made considerable effort to be there. I think she was taken aback by his behavior. She has never seen him turn before. It is a bit unnerving if you haven’t seen it. If he’d been home it would have been fifty-fifty whether he would have escalated to violence,or gone out back to bark at the neighbors. Since he was in a locked facility, he chose to be ugly, but not out of control. While we were waiting for his escort, my husband turned our son’s attention to the illustrations in the books we brought him. He was instantly sane again. Sometimes that switch is harder to see.
I will not be bringing the kids to see him this weekend. I won’t be going to see him either. There isn’t a point. He isn’t going to be civil. We will come for therapy,but that is it.
I think it finally dawned on me my son will not be coming home. His therapist was talking about my son’s issues being too severe before he upped the ante. She was cautioning us he may need long term institutional placement to keep not just him safe,but society safe from him .She has yet to see him truely go off.
I am saddened by my son. I love him. I cannot help him. He is not healing. He doesn’t want to heal. He is bating the other boys (mostly bigger than he) on a daily basis. He is aggravating others and messing with his room mates things. He is punching boys for annoying him and getting upset when they respond to his aggravating them. It isn’t just us. This is how he is.
He cannot come home.
A year ago we were praying for an adoption date. We were full of hope. We thought we were getting a toe hold and he was beginning to settle in-just a bit.
Today we are understanding he will not live in our home-perhaps he will never live in our home again.
I am past the gut wrenching grief. I am beyond bargaining and anger and have settled into acceptance.
My son will not be coming home.
He may not understand or care what he has lost.
We do understand and care very much for what we have all lost.
We are still praying for a miracle.