After four months of having my 36yo son living in my home to "get on his feet", four months that he spent stoned pretty much 24x7 and excelling at Twitter and RPG's, four months in which he saved NO money, four months in which I drove him back and forth to his part-time job, four months during which I asked him every couple of weeks what progress he was making toward getting out on his own; four weeks of turning his room into a pigsty of dirty dishes, dirty clothes, filth - common scenario, I suppose. The last time I asked him, after setting a deadline (2 months, which seemed reasonable) to hopefully create some urgency, how he was doing - he blew up. Screamed and swore at me, blamed me for everything wrong in his life. I was crying so hard I could hardly speak. My SO called and said he was coming over. He knocked on my son's door; was told to "LEAVE ME ALONE!", opened the door and told my son it was time to go - NOW. With or without the police. Son pushed at the door; SO pushed back. SO came out and dialed 911. Son came out of room threatening SO ("I'll beat the S(tuffing?) out of you!") SO kept talking to police. Son rushed to throw drug paraphernalia in the river - kept only the small amount of "stash" he had left. The police arrived, and we explained the incident. Son said he was having a "mental health crisis"; I offered to drive him to the hospital; when police said he would not be arrested, he refused to go to the hospital. Police offered him a ride to town, but he wanted his bicycle. Police found and confiscated his stash - a tiny amount of very concentrated cannabis oil. In the end, son left on his own, on his bicycle. I have seen him only a few times since - once when he came to get his things, and a few times as I was driving around our small town. He is staying in touch with his brother and sister, thankfully, so I do get a little news. Shortly before Christmas he asked my daughter in law to drive him to the hospital for mental health issues. He said the house he was living in was full of addicts and he could no longer take living there. He was hospitalized for few days and the hospital got him set up to go to a halfway house. I was happy about that, thinking he was going to get the help he needed. He was to be discharged on the 22nd of December. After not hearing from him, my daughter in law called the hospital to determine whether he'd been discharged, and to try to locate him. The hospital confirmed discharge but would provide no other information (yes, we understand HIPAA). After 48 hours- Christmas Eve - and my eldest trying numerous times to contact him- we were getting worried. He'd been suicidal when admitted to the hospital (no actions; he was just having thoughts, he said). It was VERY cold. Late on Christmas Eve, I broke down and said, "I just want to know that my son is ALIVE!" My daughter in law, an RN, called the hospital again, trying to get information on where he MIGHT be. No help. We called homeless shelters, group homes, everything we could think of. Finally I thought of one more avenue - Twitter. He'd blocked me long ago (though I *never* responded to the nasty things he said to me via Twitter), but my eldest has a Twitter account. Eldest searched for him and found his account. There were photos of a big Christmas Eve dinner he'd prepared - back at the meth house that he'd been living in prior to the hospitalization. It was sad that he'd deliberately ignored my eldest's calls and texts and e-mails, but at least we knew he was alive. He'd been invited to the eldest's home for Christmas Day (after refusing to come if I was there). I left early Christmas morning, and he did call his brother. I was so happy to see photos on Facebook posted by my daughter in law - he was making cookies with his brother and two little nieces... rather bittersweet, of course. I had changed my Twitter account a few months back and had not realized that I could see his posts. I figured it out... and read them. According to what he says, he's lost all of his jobs for "pointing out illegal/shady practices", has NO contact with his family (and wants even less), he's a veteran (threatened suicide in boot camp, was locked up for a few weeks then discharged), and he's started a gofundme account to "keep himself off the streets". I've been on an emotional roller coaster. I WANT OFF. Every 1-2 months I send a note, apologizing for the times I know I could have done better when he was a child, telling him I love him, telling him the door is always open to talk, telling him I'd be happy to meet. The only time he responded was once, threatening to get a restraining order. NOTE: I do not know where he lives. I have NEVER gone to his workplace. I do not know his phone number. I have not made any efforts to try to see him outside of the e-mails, and those are NOT often. He has cashed the check I sent for his birthday and accepted gifts I've sent through his brother when I've found out he was in need of something. It's the hardest thing I have ever gone through, even more so than the death of my beloved husband. Son was invited to a gathering (probably a surprise birthday party for my 60th this month?) and refused to come if I am there. I'm hurting. I'm still feeling anger at times. I need to learn how to detach before this eats away at me any further. Thank you for reading.