He'd rather be homeless...


New Member
Two weeks ago everything was normal. He's been on his medications for 8 years. No relapses. He's been going to school every day for two years and doing as well as can be expected. He even does little odd jobs to make money.

But two weeks ago everything went to hell. He's 17, and they put his medical care in his hands. We needed him to go to the clinic and get his prescriptions renewed. He said he had. He had not.

Acting out like I haven't seen in years started up at school. I got a lot of calls. We connected the dots too late and called the pharmacy. He wasn't on his medications.

We tried to tell him he needed to come with us and pick the medications up but he refused. For the next two nights he kept me up all night, screaming that he had to use the bathroom, would DIE if he didn't use the bathroom, every hour.

He has to ask to use the bathroom because there's an alarm on his door that wakes up the entire house if he just opens it. It was the only way to stop him from taking all the food out of my kitchen and throwing it in the garbage. He wouldn't even eat it. He just wanted ME to starve.

He didn't actually have to go. Just sat in the bathroom. Sat there waiting for me to go to sleep like he used to before they put him on the antibiotic. He used to keep me up most of the night and then beat me in my sleep. I would wake up with bruises not knowing why. One night I set up a camera. He was jumping off the back of the couch and onto my body in the night. Keeping me up until 4am and then jumping on me at 5. I started paying a babysitter to stay awake and working nights myself, thinking that would solve it. I worked 3pm until 4am and then dropped him off at daycare. Maybe if he didn't see me, he'd be less focused on me.

I sat outside the door two weeks ago wide awake because I just replaced the sink he ripped off the wall last time I fell asleep. I just replaced half the porch because if I didn't let him out to "pee" every 5 minutes for eight hours he would urinate out the window or in the garbage. He'd crap down the side of my house. I'm older now, and a survivor of auto-immune. I can't do this again.

I called the mental health mobile team and they refused to come but said I should section him at the courthouse so the psychiatric department could make him take his medications. They got him back on his medications. He was out in 2 days.

But those two days destroyed us. A CPS worker showed up at my door. Having him here puts other kids in danger. If he comes home, she will interrogate them. She will take them away. I start getting calls from teachers. Now we are "that" family. We moved because he was doing better. We moved because we didn't want to be "that" family.

Everything is my fault to him and no wonder. He has never been blamed for his actions. Everyone blames me. He talks to me with the same tone the social workers use: You HAVE to feed me, you HAVE to help me...but he's almost 18 now. Not only don't I HAVE to...I can't. I can't get his medications without him present, or apply for benefits or even make him see a psychiatrist or talk to a social worker without his consent. My other children have no such rights. He says he'd rather live in the emergency shelters than talk to "another damned social worker". He runs away and we're forced to deal with the phone calls and accusations and blame and "damned social workers"....J can't eat or sleep. I'm worried about them taking my kids.

The social workers call me but they don't give a crap about him. Everything is them trying to take the other kids. "Does he have contact with any other family members?" "Does he ever come to the home?"....THE home. Like it's some public building. It's MY home, my CHILDREN'S home, our FAMILY, but they think they own us.

They don't ask about him. Even my therapist asks me about how many kids there are and their ages. She doesn't care about me. She only cares about how she can get them taken away from me.

I tell them the truth. I see him every day but the other kids don't. I tell them where he is but they don't go even try and talk to him. They ask if he can come home. Who cares if he can? There's been no word at all from child services since they first showed up at the door. I don't feel safe. I feel stalked. It took 4 years of not seeing them to deal with the PTSD of having them show up at my door in the past. FOUR YEARS before I was able to answer the door instead of running away and hiding from it. Moving into a house for the first time and being able to live in a place other than an apartment building with a security entrance where I could pretend to be someone else if I saw them on the camera.

It all came back to me. The worker telling my daughter her mom had no power and she could take my daughter away. My little girl hiding under a desk screaming mommy mommy I want my mommy and them refusing to let her out until the principal called me and I called the police and my lawyer. The other worker who stripped my son to "check for bruises" because "kids like him are always abuse victims"...this was based on her two year college social work degree and complete lack of medical knowledge.

They were both fired. There were apology letters. Some people think them losing their jobs was good enough. It wasn't good enough. My heart still pounds out of my chest when the doorbell rings. My daughter was homeschooled for four years because she screamed and threw a tantrum if we took her near a school building. My ex husband left rather than be home the next time they raided our home. Once a month they raided our home. Went through cupboards, drawers. Locked my kids in rooms. Blocked doorways. Interrogated babies like criminals.

He'd rather live on the streets. I don't know what to tell him because he's right. I'm trying to help him get an income and an apartment but he won't talk to me. It was my job to protect him even from himself and I couldn't. Helping him meant ripping our family apart. I wasn't allowed to tell them how bad it was.

"He's not in danger. He is a danger. No foster home will take him. The only thing we can do is leave him here and take your other kids. Are you sure you want our help?"
Those words play in my head every day and they're playing again when I pick him up from the hospital. Because the nurse says "Im going to call child protection and tell them he's coming home so don't bother trying to avoid their involvement"

Like that, Im crying again. "He's not coming home! You can't lie to them like that! He's not coming home!!"

I report her to the hospital, my lawyer, the college of nurses. She's knowingly lying to child protection. He stayed with family for a while but now he's living on the streets. Using the churches for shelter after school. Going to the rec center or the library. I'm up all night and standing on the porch every morning.

I don't even give a crap that he calls me names and swears at me when he comes home. I just hug him and cry on his shoulder. He's taller than me now. He has the same big eyes he had as a baby. Nobody could understand this pain.

I try to keep my eyes dry when I see him. I can't show weakness. I have to find him a place to live. He can't come back, doesn't want to come back. In the back of my mind I see those big eyes staring at me from a jail cell or hospital bed, glaring at me. It's all my fault. It's always my fault.

After he leaves I fall on the couch and cry. Dry my eyes and feed my other kids breakfast. Keep getting up every morning. Soak my husband's shoulder with tears every night.

I tell the kids everything is okay. It's normal for men who are nearly 18 to move out. He just moved out. Everything's ok.

My husband tells me everything is ok. He's just choosing to be out there. Nothing we can say. Nothing we can do. Just support him. Just be there for him. Just please stop crying. I have to go to work tomorrow.

I clean the house all day and cook food channel level stuff because they might come with policemen and guns and threaten to take away my kids because the toilet paper or a pair of scissors is in the wrong place or not enough of the laundry is done or anything else on their list. Lies are not out of the question. They don't have to prove anything to take them.

The tears are a NEVER ending pit. Always threatening, always unbelievably close.

He'd rather live on the streets and I don't know what to say. I don't know what to say because he's right.

Somewhere, a tiny defiant :censored2: inside of me is screaming screw these social workers and screw these meetings and f--This and f---all of this, and I'm crying because he's right. We should be able to say f-- This and f--all of this and leave our family alone and let us be a family, because we're human and we're allowed to be human not slaves. Not legal kidnapping victims.

They're MY family it is OUR home, and I would lay down my life for them. I'd live on the streets for him because f---this! All of this!!!!

I feel like I'm twisting in chains. I don't know why they call this prison system a democracy


Well-Known Member
I can't imagine dealing with your situation. I think my stress level jumped just reading it! So living it would be unbearable.

I have similar stress dealing with social workers. My grandchildren ended up in foster care because of their parents addiction issues. It took us a year to get them out of foster care and in to our home. But then, they would never confirm that we would be the adoptive family. The CASA worker even made the remark that they were highly adoptable children...i.e. Caucasian, intelligent, cute, no disabilities. I asked if they were in wheelchairs, would I have to worry about keeping custody. She shook her head no.

I am glad you have an attorney. I hope your son gets help. But most of all, I hope you can keep your younger children safe.



Long road but the path ahead holds hope.
Just reading your post and I am exausted for you.

I have no works to help as I am not I. The same situation.

Jut a prayer for better days and a warm hug. You are not alone. Many people here will provide you with supportive advice.


Well-Known Member
Staff member
I am so, so sorry that you've been going thru this nightmare for so long. I can't imagine the terror, exhaustion, rage and sorrow you must feel.

Please consider taking down the photo, remember this is an anonymous site.

I have no experience with what you're dealing with. It seems you've looked at many options already. You may already be aware of NAMI, the National Alliance on Mental Illness, they provide excellent courses for parents which offer guidance, information, resources and support. If that feels right, perhaps contact them. You can access them online, they have chapters in many cities.

I'd encourage you to find ways to support yourself......you've done a stellar job doing everything possible to support your son, (regardless of who may be blaming you....parents are often blamed for what happens to our kids, don't buy it, don't add guilt to your already full plate). If it feels right, find a therapist, counselor, spiritual advisor, support group, somewhere you can go, feel safe, be able to just let go, vent, feel, talk, rage, cry......a safe place to unplug from the drama and be nourished and nurtured. You've been thru hell, take care of yourself. You need a break from this horrific drama. You matter too.

I'm sorry. I wish I had something to offer which would take away your pain and suffering. My heart goes out to you. Continue posting, it helps. I'm glad you're here. You're not alone.