A Mother's Heart

Mike got kicked out of school today. The social worker called me saying that MIke was begging to talk to me. Of course, Bart is out of town because he always is when this stuff happens, but I agreed to meet with the two of them. She he can't be on school property I had to meet them on a street corner.

I said, "Well, Mike, I'm sorry you've put us in this position. What can I do for you?"

He said, "I guess take me down to the county or whatever."

He looked horrible. Black eye, dirty, smelly... runny nose from crying. Of course, I wanted to bring him home, give him a shower, a hug and kiss, a hot meal, and put him in bed, in that order. Even though I am "the meanest mother in the world" I'm still his mother.

But he's burned those bridges.

I said I was there for him to talk to. He said he didn't know what to say. I reminded him that his Dad and I would do anything we could to help him as long as it didn't involve him living with us or us giving him money.

I talked to him about qualifying for services based on his FASD diagnosis. He told me "I don't have FASD." I explained to him that it was a medical diagnosis and he did have it whether he wanted to or not.

Now, only a person with a mental illness or FASD would say they didn't have it. Because if they didn't have it, they would be able to acknowledge that they had it. But those don't have it, wouldn't need to admit it anyway. Wow what a dumb paragraph. Get your head around that.

So, anyway, he says he can't get a job. I told him that he needs to go with one thing or another. Either he has a disability that keeps him from getting a job, or he needs to get one.

I suggested he go to AA or NA and get a sponsor. He says he isn't using and he doesn't need AA. Interesting how it was the answer to all of his issues four months ago and now he doesn't need it at all. I just mentioned it might be a place to get some support.

I gave him names of people who could help him. He says he's not interested. He told me to give him a ride to a park. I did. As I drove away he sat at the picnic table and cried.

I almost caved. Almost drove back around and said, "OK, MIke, come on home." But I didn't. I can't. Dominyk obsesses for an hour about him every time his name is mentioned or we see him on the street. "You're not going to let him live with us again are you mom? He steals from us. He brings weird friends over. He takes our stuff. He takes drugs. He sneaks his friends in. I don't like it when he's home, etc. etc. etc."

It was like he was a very little boy, 4 or five, that had gotten hurt when he was lost in the woods and all he wanted to do was come home so his parents could make everything OK. But we're way beyond that and it was VERY hard for me to drive away.