I am filled with sadness and not sure why. I want my son to love me. For so long I had turned off awareness of my enormous love for him and need of him. I have let down my defenses. I am like a raw nerve. He asked to come over last night and did not show. I was let down, which I will explain below. As I was writing this--he showed up at our door. I am jubilant. Thrilled. He apologized for coming saying he had no mental stimulation at the house. I hugged and hugged him. I love you so much. And hugged him more. Do you know how much I love you? Yes, he responded and I love you too. I want you to love me, son. (I know.) You know I love you Mom. I just do not show it. It makes me sad that you feel I do not love you. It is just that I am so wrapped up in my own self-hatred, still. I feel so bad about the people I have hurt, but I still have not worked my way through it. You see, I come to believe he does not love me. (M does not help. He thinks my son is indifferent. Could it be that he feels that his children do not love him? M believes we must accept that our children may not love us much. And M has a theory that upper middle class children love their parents less than do lower class kids. I explain to M that we were not upper middle class then. That I struggled alone. Why do I listen to him all the time?) Anyway, the newest iteration is that my son now knows he will be drug tested randomly. He will soon find out that if he leaves and wants to return, he needs a clean test. This is the back story, if you need to review it. *Smile. My son came back about 3 days ago after he realized that there was no alternative living space that was free and inside. He was told: a condition of your being anywhere near us is "no marijuana." A second condition is that you work full-time. He verbalized he understood and accepted the conditions. He said: "my circumstances are not such that I have the luxury of using marijuana" or something like that. I did not at that time bring up drug testing. The working is going well. The marijuana, not so great. Luckily, I know now how to recognize he has used. Not just while he is using, with the bloodshot eyes and euphoria, but afterwards. He is depressed, looks unhealthy, is pallid, grayish, sullen, negative. Yesterday afternoon he asked to come over after work to pick up some stuff. That means to hang out too. Fine. I love when he is here now, love having him here. He never showed. I felt it was because he smoked marijuana. M tried to reassure me. I went by there this morning. Sure enough. All the signs. I told him: Understand that we will be requiring random drug testing. You said your last time smoking marijuana was a couple of days before you left, last time. That means your results should be clear in 3 weeks. (He was the one who had told me that dirty tests could continue for a month for people who used a marijuana, frequently, in large quantities.) He began to demur, trying to convince me that clearly would take even longer than a month. I replied: I am using the time period you suggested and I confirmed it by research. Actually, a month is quite lenient. He began to say things like: I have to be prepared to be homeless. That I was acting mad. That I would go and tell M about this conversation and he would get mad, have his attitude change. I said: I am not mad. It is entirely your choice where you want to live, and when you leave here. I understand if you choose to not accept the terms. It is your choice. I went and told M immediately. I said I don't want to operate a crash pad service. M smiled and said: let him know that he is free to return but when he returns he needs to have a clean test before he re-enters.