Wow it has been such a hard day today. I see that I get some more clarity and take another step or two forward---fortunately that phase is lasting longer and longer, and then I have some hours or a day of sadness. I feel my nerves on edge and a heightened awareness as I know my son can knock on my door soon---don't know when, but perhaps even next week if they reduce the 60 days by 30%, which is common here. They release people from jail at 12:01 a.m. and they have to be off the property within 10 minutes. My house is about 2 miles from the jail so even though I have asked him via letter not to come here, he still might. A couple of times after he has been released from jail, he knocks on my door at 2 a.m. I am asleep, startled, vulnerable, confused and all of a sudden, here he is again. Wanting in. I don't like being in that situation at all. I hate it. It is already so unfair, the advantage he has over me---it seems criminal that I have to wait for that to happen again, not knowing when or if. So I have gotten prepared. I have put a list of shelters and halfway houses in an envelope with a $10 bill so he can make phone calls. I have two backpacks with two pairs of jeans, some long-sleeved shirts, tennis shoes, a jacket and a heavy coat, gloves, some socks and underwear and toiletries, beside the front door. His papers and files. His laptop with the broken cord. if he comes, I will answer the door, give him these things and ask him to leave. I toyed with the idea of letting him finish out the night in the back seat of my car. Wouldn't I do that for just about anybody in this kind of trouble? But when daylight comes, what then? Then I still have to deal with it all. So no, there is nothing for him here, now. These preparations are those of a mother, I see that. Maybe if I can do THIS, then I can DO THAT, which I must do and which I am afraid I cannot do. So you see, finally, it IS starting to be about me. As I write this and I read it back to myself, it is surreal that I would even be here, today, right now, in this place, with my own son. I could lie down and cry for days, but I have already done that. Again and again. I have cried today. I have felt all of the sadness again. I am so tired and also, I am so sad. I went to an Al-Anon meeting this morning and I said it all out loud to them. There were so many nods around the room, and compassionate mothers who have felt and feel these things themselves, came up to me after the meeting. There are other mothers, there, who talk about their sons and daughters who live, still using, but functional, holding down jobs and houses and children and spouses. This is not my son. My son can't follow any rules anywhere it appears, or if he does, he can only do it for a month or two before he is kicked out, asked to leave. He can't make it in this world on really any level except jail, it seems. After a while, there is no one who will put up with this. And rightly so. Even his mother and father. Then I went to church, and the sermon was about light in a dark world. It made me cry, too, with the hope and beauty and sadness of the words. I got prepared tonight, early, so I can lie down and sleep and maybe tomorrow, move on from all of this again. I just want peace. I just want to get to a place where it doesn't hurt so much and isn't so sad. I know I will again because I have before. In fact, since January 2, when he went to jail, I have been in a pretty good place. It is the idea of this starting all over again that slays me. And I think that says something. I am ready for this and yet I am not ready. Is this really all I have to offer my own son? I can get weak and nostalgic about this, but I know that doesn't do me any good or him any good. I have to get strong.