N. and I know each other pretty well. I can generally tell when he has been taking drugs and when he is lying. The drugs show up in his attitude and speech. The lying is more subtle. It begins with a vague tension. I find myself uneasy with his attitude, with some detail in his story, and I ask a few questions. He sticks to his story. He tries to change the subject or walks away to take a shower, to prepare food in the kitchen, to disappear in his room and demand privacy. He becomes aggressive and displays genuine anger. When cannot have what he wants, or thinks he needs, when he cannot win the game by getting what he wants from me, he gets angry. But more than that, my suspicion alone insults and angers him.
Category: Family
Second Hand Smoke
When we last saw n. in this Web log, last Wednesday (Dec. 1/04) he had his foot in the door. He went out that night, and came back last night. He went to his classes on Thursday, and he kept his first appointment with a psychiatrist on Thursday and an appointment with his mom and Mediation Services on Friday. He showed up at the TRY program to get paid on Friday, but cut his Friday class.
Foot in the Door
N. has been spending most of his nights here, showering, doing his laundry, taking a few meals, since Monday November 22. I have had several discussions with him. He has seemed to be more empathic, more considerate, more helpful, more willing to accommodate my feelings, more candid, but he is still not managing his life. He says that he can only address his problems if let him live at home, and I have been feeling a lot of pressure and manipulation to provide him with more things, and not to worry about his problems with drugs, anger and “teen spirit”. He has talked about his drug use more openly. He describes himself as having gotten over drug use and talks about addiction in the past tense. I think he is trying to fool me again.
The Frog Prince
I started to write this as an update on n’s struggle to come home now, and my struggle to trust him enough to assess his progress, but not to be pressured or conned. He is disappointed that I won’t let him come home right now. He is reacting by withdrawing and threatening to live on the street again.
As I thought about the last few days, I began to think about how his girlfriend may see him, and I thought of the fairy tale of the girl who finds a frog, trust him, kisses him and finds a handsome prince. The full story is of course more complex as folklore web sites here and here will show.
Next?
Another few weeks have passed since n. came home sick. He didn’t stay, but he has made some changes and wants to come home. We are talking a lot, and he is being less angry.
Tucked into Bed
It has been a strange evening. My wife called and said she had responded to a call from n. and taken him to a doctor. She said he was sick, and that she couldn’t get CFS to find him a bed for the night. She said he couldn’t stay where she was staying. He needed a safe place. I took him in. I have to figure out how to get through the next day.
Blog Holiday
I haven’t given’t up the blog. I have spent much of the last few weeks cycling, reading, watching TV, spending time with family and friends. Along the way, I have had some household projects – small repairs and some shopping for kitchen items and minor furniture so that Claire and I can cook for guests and have company.
I also rebuilt a defunct desktop computer at the office as my office computer. Any work that comes home is either FTP’d home or carried in a tiny flash drive – no more lugging the laptop around to edit one set of documents. I moved my old Toshiba laptop home, and moved files around. I am using the laptop in my study as my main computer for text writing, email, and and most of my Web browsing. That means Claire can use the Sony desktop for her purposes pretty much whenever she needs or wants it.
Life moves on. I have not been writing about it. I have been writing a few book and movie reviews for Blogcritics (see the buttons on the sidebar) and this blog has been quiet for a while. That will change as my other projects and commitments have been winding up.
This side of the grass
My father had scheduled day surgery for a hernia this morning. It was a simple day surgery, but at 75, diabetic and with a history of cardiac issues, nothing is safe or sure. It went well. He had declined my offers to get him to the hospital over the last few weeks, but accepted at the last minute. My sister Teresa took the day off work to take care of our mother, who is not able to be alone due to advancing dementia.
I picked him up at 5:45 AM. It brought back memories of the years when I worked for him when he was a construction superintendent, and early mornings headed for the hunting grounds.
My father has a fear of hospitals and he dragged his feet on the way in, and almost danced out when his surgery was over. He said it was a very mild experience after his bypass surgery some years ago. He was joking and happy (I am not supposed to life anything heavier than 5 kilos – how am I supposed to take a leak?).
When he had his bypass surgery a few years ago, he announced that it was good to be on this side of the grass.
Prodigal Son
My chronicle of my feelings about n’s efforts to fight his boredom with drugs, gaming fantasies, heavy metal, anarchy, satanism and street life have been archived under the category heading of “Family & Life”. It has taken a life of its own and I have moved the posts to an archive sub-category called “Prodigal Son.”
The story of the Prodigal Son (Luke 15.11-32)is a parable – a story told to make a point – about forgiveness and acceptance and spirituality. The spiritual lesson can be read in different ways. One of them is that God forgives the repentent sinner. That is the way the story has been retold in the famous song “Amazing Grace.” Another is that I should constantly forgive and constantly hope that he will recover.
The parable does not necessarily present a good psychological model of trust and boundaries in parenting, although in fact there is a significant boundary observed in the story. The son had taken his inheritance and spent it enjoying dissolute living in a far country, and came to a moment when he wanted to go home. At Luke 15:17, the story goes “But when he came to himself …”. I am challenged to trust myself to see when my son has come to himself and to find the right way to support him when he does.
A Visit
I saw n. and met his friend Nigel when they came to my house unannounced early yesterday evening. N.’s duffel bag had appeared in my back yard when I came home from work. He rang the doorbell a short while later. N. didn’t introduce Nigel until I asked, near the end of the visit. N. has told me that Nigel is older than 18, but he is short and slight and looks younger. N. asked for money for food. I offered them the supplies to make sandwiches while they sat on the porch, and they accepted my offer. They spent some of their time with notepads writing songs and the storyline of a role-laying game that they were acting out.