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An actual phone call from my son
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<blockquote data-quote="Copabanana" data-source="post: 740028" data-attributes="member: 18958"><p>Well. I lament acting like I ever know anything. </p><p> Today was moderately hard. My son's mail comes here. Since he never pays bills, and does ridiculously irresponsible and unthinking things, like calls ambulances to take him to the doctor ($6000 bill)...when he was in my town 10 minutes away from my house, it feels dreadful when these unpaid bills arrive to my home. Like a slap in the face.</p><p></p><p>So I had had a tough afternoon. A social security employee told me that my son likely could receive my full social security payment, after my death...and then retracted it...because my son had declared in his SSDI application that his disability had begun when he was 24, instead of earlier, which he knows is the case. And because he did not involve me, I could not give him or get him good counsel. This cannot be reversed. So I felt slapped down by this. Because I struggle to find a way to make peace with my inability to help him tangibly after I die. I mean, give me a break. How completely irrational this sounds.</p><p></p><p>When I got home, there were the bills. So I called my son. <em>J. Please change your address. I am sick of your bills coming here. </em> Click. He hangs up on me. He had last called a few days ago. <em>Can I come home?</em> I text him: <em>Please change your address. And don't call or text me, until you begin to act like a socialized human being. </em>Was the gist of it.</p><p></p><p>I cannot follow my own advise. Imagine. Searching for ways to control his life and protect him, after I am dead. I cannot think of something more futile and pathetic.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Copabanana, post: 740028, member: 18958"] Well. I lament acting like I ever know anything. Today was moderately hard. My son's mail comes here. Since he never pays bills, and does ridiculously irresponsible and unthinking things, like calls ambulances to take him to the doctor ($6000 bill)...when he was in my town 10 minutes away from my house, it feels dreadful when these unpaid bills arrive to my home. Like a slap in the face. So I had had a tough afternoon. A social security employee told me that my son likely could receive my full social security payment, after my death...and then retracted it...because my son had declared in his SSDI application that his disability had begun when he was 24, instead of earlier, which he knows is the case. And because he did not involve me, I could not give him or get him good counsel. This cannot be reversed. So I felt slapped down by this. Because I struggle to find a way to make peace with my inability to help him tangibly after I die. I mean, give me a break. How completely irrational this sounds. When I got home, there were the bills. So I called my son. [I]J. Please change your address. I am sick of your bills coming here. [/I] Click. He hangs up on me. He had last called a few days ago. [I]Can I come home?[/I] I text him: [I]Please change your address. And don't call or text me, until you begin to act like a socialized human being. [/I]Was the gist of it. I cannot follow my own advise. Imagine. Searching for ways to control his life and protect him, after I am dead. I cannot think of something more futile and pathetic. [/QUOTE]
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An actual phone call from my son
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