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I really think she likes jail!!!
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<blockquote data-quote="Star*" data-source="post: 229638" data-attributes="member: 4964"><p>Bran, </p><p> </p><p>I've been following your story, but haven't commented. Mostly because things go through my mind and come out on my fingertips. I've been where you are and I know some of the same feelings. </p><p> </p><p>I know when Dude was going to be arrested, he attempted to swallow a bottle of pills to get out of it. He'd already run away a couple times and didn't get the attention the second and third time that he did the first. It burst his bubble when he looked out the window and saw NO ONE looking for him. For me it was a very 'grow up Mom' moment. I think at that point I felt more guilty for feeling sorry for myself and MY situation than I did my sons. In this instance I didn't cause any of the behaviors that followed and were so (lacking a word here because I don't think I could be embarassed any longer) whatever - to the outside world. I actually for teh first time started to think about what a selfish little boy my son had become. HOW DARE HE. </p><p> </p><p>So when he told us he swallowed pills? I said fine - the police are on their way - get them to call an ambulance. I'll never forget the look on the drivers face when he said "Are one of you riding with?" and we both simultaneously said "Nope." and walked off. - Apparently we had to be at the ER to sign for treatment. So we reluctanly said "We will follow in a moment." I'll never forget the looks I got that night from the cops, from the ER - I was just so at my wits end. I was cold, numb and just so glad that he would be going to a psychiatric hospital and I would be getting a break. </p><p> </p><p>When he went to jail from the psychiatric hospital - we had no idea where he was. He went to county for a day and night then to Department of Juvenile Justice. No one called, no one told us anything. WHen I found out exactly what crimes they were charging him for and charging him as an adult - I was enraged at the detective that said "I'll help you big time if you help me." I would later find out his statement was "You should never trust a Southern Cop." (quote out of his mouth) and my son was looking at 15 years as an adult. </p><p> </p><p>I had a stroke. </p><p> </p><p>When I got out of the hospital...there was still visitations to contend with and I swear all I kept thinking was - OMG I think he likes jail. Sure part of me wanted to think that his "tough guy" voice on the phone was an act and he was going to "break" and "learn his lesson" and that the "prisoner to prisioner talks from older inmates" would change his attiude or make him SEE the light with their stories of how he didn't want to be there or how they once were where he was etc ad nauseum. I ad nauseum because it has been my experience as a parent to set my hopes high on those who go, talk, speak, help, are one with my son, have been there done that because each time someone like your sisters friend went? It boiled down to "some guy" blah blah blah his life story, he used to be here.....and that's NOT ME. But yet at the time - it was "Oh man, thanks, hug.....shake hand, take the money for commisary - and then the minute the guy left feeling like verbalizing his mistakes HELPED my son? My son only was "in the moment". It was someone to break the mononotony, give him time, talk to. And it was ME that got hurt over and over again thinking MAYBE THIS place, this person, this space in time IS THE """""""""THING""""""" that he....needs to change. Each time it's been a bitter aftertaste and I ran around telling everyone that so and so talked to my son and I "think" he listened. Sadly it's me that gets hurt. THe person who walked that life -is busy healing and thinks what they said actually changed a life. SOmetimes I guess it may, but most times it was just more hurt for me when it became obvious my son used another person to fill his "down" time. </p><p> </p><p>What I have learned is that the ONLY thing that changes are the stories. The lies are more rehearsed or he has told them so many times we believe he actually believes what comes out of his mouth, the mannerism of his theft (used to be borrowing without permission) gets more ingenious despite me thinking I've seen EVERYTHING, and the sincerety is so well played my kid could out act any Hollywood actor. Seriously. I wonder sometimes when he's done explaining if I should get up and walk away for good or hand him a golden statue and shout BRAVO! (here's your Oscar) </p><p> </p><p>I'd like to think that jail has changed my son. I'd like to think that staring at 30 years this upcoming year and already a felon at 16 changed him. I'd like to think that numerous Residential Treatment Center (RTC)'s, grouphomes, foster care, psychiatrists, hospitals, 65 medications, my stroke, my ill health, watching me cry, watching me beg, watching my let all my dreams die - just ONE of those would be enough to make me stop, quit, turn my back......and for any normal person? Maybe it would. I keep hoping. And now I lump hope in a category of not-normal. That's how much my sons behaviors have changed my life. Not where I wanted to be, not where I would wish anyone else to be. Not that my words are comforting or that you'll find anything helpful in them today. Just sometimes it almost makes your life seem normal or give it hope to know that there are other Moms out here thinking, wishing, hoping, doing the same things you are. </p><p> </p><p>Each day I detach a little more. Each day I detach more I heal in one way and die in another. Inside? I stomp my feet and have a full-on hissy fit with tears, tantrum style yelling and just scream at God somedays and instead of having to believe that I'm blessed or have direct communication with the almighty that he made me tough enough to DEAL with this - I feel like I was thrown to the wolves and must have been a real SOB in another life time to live through a childs behaviors like I have. I think no one will understand....and yet - sadly they do. </p><p> </p><p>Don't waste the time you are given. I find myself thinking that more and more every day. I guess despite all the words and pearls of wisdom that myself and everyone else I could throw under the bus with me for Dudes sake - it's the thought that speaks the loudest in my head. And the one that I say to him these days most often. In part - because when I say it to him? I'm also hearing it come out of MY mouth as my own advice to myself. </p><p> </p><p>Detachment 101 is the best worst class I've ever had to graduate from. So keep your head up, realize that you can't possibly be made of stone, and be a pushover, find your middle ground and do the best you can to survive this day to day. </p><p> </p><p>You're a good Mom. Thought maybe someone should tell you that today and mean it. </p><p> </p><p>Hugs </p><p>STar</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Star*, post: 229638, member: 4964"] Bran, I've been following your story, but haven't commented. Mostly because things go through my mind and come out on my fingertips. I've been where you are and I know some of the same feelings. I know when Dude was going to be arrested, he attempted to swallow a bottle of pills to get out of it. He'd already run away a couple times and didn't get the attention the second and third time that he did the first. It burst his bubble when he looked out the window and saw NO ONE looking for him. For me it was a very 'grow up Mom' moment. I think at that point I felt more guilty for feeling sorry for myself and MY situation than I did my sons. In this instance I didn't cause any of the behaviors that followed and were so (lacking a word here because I don't think I could be embarassed any longer) whatever - to the outside world. I actually for teh first time started to think about what a selfish little boy my son had become. HOW DARE HE. So when he told us he swallowed pills? I said fine - the police are on their way - get them to call an ambulance. I'll never forget the look on the drivers face when he said "Are one of you riding with?" and we both simultaneously said "Nope." and walked off. - Apparently we had to be at the ER to sign for treatment. So we reluctanly said "We will follow in a moment." I'll never forget the looks I got that night from the cops, from the ER - I was just so at my wits end. I was cold, numb and just so glad that he would be going to a psychiatric hospital and I would be getting a break. When he went to jail from the psychiatric hospital - we had no idea where he was. He went to county for a day and night then to Department of Juvenile Justice. No one called, no one told us anything. WHen I found out exactly what crimes they were charging him for and charging him as an adult - I was enraged at the detective that said "I'll help you big time if you help me." I would later find out his statement was "You should never trust a Southern Cop." (quote out of his mouth) and my son was looking at 15 years as an adult. I had a stroke. When I got out of the hospital...there was still visitations to contend with and I swear all I kept thinking was - OMG I think he likes jail. Sure part of me wanted to think that his "tough guy" voice on the phone was an act and he was going to "break" and "learn his lesson" and that the "prisoner to prisioner talks from older inmates" would change his attiude or make him SEE the light with their stories of how he didn't want to be there or how they once were where he was etc ad nauseum. I ad nauseum because it has been my experience as a parent to set my hopes high on those who go, talk, speak, help, are one with my son, have been there done that because each time someone like your sisters friend went? It boiled down to "some guy" blah blah blah his life story, he used to be here.....and that's NOT ME. But yet at the time - it was "Oh man, thanks, hug.....shake hand, take the money for commisary - and then the minute the guy left feeling like verbalizing his mistakes HELPED my son? My son only was "in the moment". It was someone to break the mononotony, give him time, talk to. And it was ME that got hurt over and over again thinking MAYBE THIS place, this person, this space in time IS THE """""""""THING""""""" that he....needs to change. Each time it's been a bitter aftertaste and I ran around telling everyone that so and so talked to my son and I "think" he listened. Sadly it's me that gets hurt. THe person who walked that life -is busy healing and thinks what they said actually changed a life. SOmetimes I guess it may, but most times it was just more hurt for me when it became obvious my son used another person to fill his "down" time. What I have learned is that the ONLY thing that changes are the stories. The lies are more rehearsed or he has told them so many times we believe he actually believes what comes out of his mouth, the mannerism of his theft (used to be borrowing without permission) gets more ingenious despite me thinking I've seen EVERYTHING, and the sincerety is so well played my kid could out act any Hollywood actor. Seriously. I wonder sometimes when he's done explaining if I should get up and walk away for good or hand him a golden statue and shout BRAVO! (here's your Oscar) I'd like to think that jail has changed my son. I'd like to think that staring at 30 years this upcoming year and already a felon at 16 changed him. I'd like to think that numerous Residential Treatment Center (RTC)'s, grouphomes, foster care, psychiatrists, hospitals, 65 medications, my stroke, my ill health, watching me cry, watching me beg, watching my let all my dreams die - just ONE of those would be enough to make me stop, quit, turn my back......and for any normal person? Maybe it would. I keep hoping. And now I lump hope in a category of not-normal. That's how much my sons behaviors have changed my life. Not where I wanted to be, not where I would wish anyone else to be. Not that my words are comforting or that you'll find anything helpful in them today. Just sometimes it almost makes your life seem normal or give it hope to know that there are other Moms out here thinking, wishing, hoping, doing the same things you are. Each day I detach a little more. Each day I detach more I heal in one way and die in another. Inside? I stomp my feet and have a full-on hissy fit with tears, tantrum style yelling and just scream at God somedays and instead of having to believe that I'm blessed or have direct communication with the almighty that he made me tough enough to DEAL with this - I feel like I was thrown to the wolves and must have been a real SOB in another life time to live through a childs behaviors like I have. I think no one will understand....and yet - sadly they do. Don't waste the time you are given. I find myself thinking that more and more every day. I guess despite all the words and pearls of wisdom that myself and everyone else I could throw under the bus with me for Dudes sake - it's the thought that speaks the loudest in my head. And the one that I say to him these days most often. In part - because when I say it to him? I'm also hearing it come out of MY mouth as my own advice to myself. Detachment 101 is the best worst class I've ever had to graduate from. So keep your head up, realize that you can't possibly be made of stone, and be a pushover, find your middle ground and do the best you can to survive this day to day. You're a good Mom. Thought maybe someone should tell you that today and mean it. Hugs STar [/QUOTE]
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