Worried to Go Home

[Mirabelle]

Hello everyone,

Just a quick post to ask your thoughts on / experience with, a new element that seems to be creeping into the journey of myself and my husband trying to help his son. 21 years of age, bipolar, drug problems, won't work, won't take medication, blames others for everything, transitory housing history. As of now he is in a shared living situation recommended by his case manager with affordable rent and seemingly decent working people, all older than him. One of the most promising arrangements we have had. He has a history of leaving shelters, rehab centers etc., when someone makes him mad, getting kicked out family and friends' homes and hotel rooms for unacceptable behavior, bad choices, breaking contracts etc. We are coming up on four years on the merry-go-round.

I have the feeling that he is set on moving back in with us. One day he knocked on the door unexpectedly, when he had been living at a shelter an hour away (he has no transport.) He was high and hung around until my husband called him and shooed him away (I was too scared to open the door). Shortly before he moved into his current house, he put a major guilt trip on my husband when he said no to letting his son stay with us. My husband held firm, but man, was he tore up. I am afraid my son saw that chink in the armor and is gearing up to try and wear my husband down. He keeps calling my husband, asking him to pick him up to 'just hang out.' He is a good 45 minutes away so my husband goes to see him twice a week, nothing more. If his mind were clear I would believe that he just wants to spend some time with his dad, but the aforementioned guilt trip was performed less than a week ago. A wise member on this forum pointed out to me that some of our children may not be able to plan their way out of a paper bag, but when it comes to getting something they want, they can be very smart and manipulative.

I would say my imagination is running away with me, but I am worried. Every time I get home from work I am scouring each side of the street, looking at my side gate, expecting to see him sitting on the porch. A light branch from a tree hit against my window last night and woke me up in a panic; my first thought was that it was him knocking on my window. I keep thinking I am hearing him climb in the window of his old room, even though I check that it is locked every day!

It is that entitlement piece that worries me. Like he is saying to himself - "I have played their 'can't come home' game for long enough. Now it is time to take what is mine and crank up the pressure and force them to take me back." I know intellectually that we have a right to refuse a person entry to our home, but for some reason it still scares me half to death. I have always fully supported my husband staying in contact with our son. Now I feel very protective of my husband and don't want him subjected to any more of these encounters.

I know some people on this site have dealt with adult children either emotionally or physically trying to push their way back in to their house and their wallet, fully believing that it is their right to do so, even if their parents have repeatedly refused to allow it. How did you feel / cope / react - what happened in your situation?

I thank you all in advance for reading this and sharing your thoughts.

 

[BusynMember]

Oh. It was easy for us. We have younger kids whom she almost killed during her rages. She stole and.lied and took drugs too and was toyally disrespectful. So we did any sane parenmts who can't live with their child does...we bought her and her drugged husband a cute little house. All they had to do in order to keep it was to pay the utilities and keep the yard clean. Not even the inside of the house. The yard! The HOA demanded nice yards.

You guessed it. The utilities never got paid until we paid them. Now for the yard. We mowed it for them but each time we came there was more and more trash in.it. You saw better looking yards at carnivals. They fought outside at night and the police were called. Finally they were in so much trouble that we took the house back, fixed it up, and sold it. We did not make a profit.
Next we tried buying then a small mobile home and they had to only pay cheap lot rent.Guess what they never paid? Also again they had loud violent fights in the yard and the landlord told us the motorhome could no longer stay there. Strike two.

Following that we paid much rent and stupidly bought Kay three (3!) cars in case she got a job. She got no job but she totalled all three cars.

My husband was done by then and most of you have read the rest of the story. Her gig was up after ten years and half of our retirement gone.

No matter how hard we try or how badly we feel we can't save them. Kay had it made yet drugs, fighting and her loud personality ruined all her chances to not only be independent but b a homeowner. Their personalities seem to be on different planets than others and not in a good way.

No matter how they whine and pray on Grandma's grave that it will be different this time, it's usually more of the same.

If your son held a job, got off drugs and became nicer he would be able to loive on his own without giving you tears and theatrics. It's an act to get him home, not for the comfort, but for the money he can steal etc.

He is a man, not a child. He has hair on his face and a deep voice. Take down his little boy pictures. He is grown up now. We took down Kay's baby pictures.

Hugs and love.

 

[Copabanana]

Most of us develop some sort of PTSD-like reaction. I did. I got to the point where I don't want my son near my house. I know that I contributed to the problem because I panic around the thought of any potential breach of boundaries by him. I fall apart.

Painfully, I do not want to see my son now nor do I want to be with him. Of course, I miss him and I love him, but I have not found the skills and the strength to "bear him." The reality is, I don't feel I have to. I have given myself permission to feel what I feel and to give myself what I need. I have become more important to me, that he, in terms of feeling safe. I see feeling safe as different and as important if not more, as being safe.

It sounds like you know what you know and you feel what you feel. Trust yourself. The power is not with your stepson. Trust your husband. Trust that he will listen and hear what you say. It is undermining yourself and your relationship with him to not believe that he will support you and that he will be overcome by the manipulation of his son.

But I do not mean blind trust here. I mean creating trust by telling him how you feel and asking for his reassurance and support. There is risk here, but there is also the possibility for great gain in confidence and closeness. I would try to tell him what you would need from him to feel safe, the kind of support.

I suggest you do whatever it takes to begin to feel secure at home. Motion sensors, cameras, an alarm system, window locks. This is real. Whether or not they would hurt us, they are neither cognizant of nor feel responsible for how they affect us. And again, feeling safe is as essential to me as breathing.

My son is staying away from my house. But in the back of my mind, I fear when I hear a noise once in a while, that it could be him. I am not afraid of him in my conscious mind. I am afraid in my unconscious or subconscious mind, which is worse. I think one key is honoring what you feel. It does not mean that I do not love my son. It is what it is.

 

[Deni D]

I did not read the others replies, hopefully they align with mine.

Take a breath, and then another, and another. You are worried, and rightfully so. The thing is you have no control of your step son or your husband. You don't know what your step son will do and you do know your husband will do so much for him but really don't know how far he will go when the rubber meets the road, because you are not him.

I'm someone who had been in your husbands situation for over 10 years. I hoped/believed for many years that the reality I saw was not reality. I did bring my son back in after rehabs and failed sober living situations. My significant other did not live here but was very upset that I let it happen, over and over.

Lucky for me, he was here that last time when I had to call the police to have my son removed. I know they would not have taken the situation seriously if my significant other was not here. I would not have been listened to and been put in a situation of having to move out of my home while working for an eviction of my son, who was out of his mind from mental illness and drugs yet was able to present as a victim of me to the police who wanted only to be done with us. Except I had a witness, one witness, who was not emotionally connected as myself and my son were to the situation.

I'm thinking, considering, you should make a contingency plan. Not because of your step son but because you are not sure if your husband can hold tight just yet. I'm thinking you should have a go bag and a place to go to get out of dodge, just in case. I don't really think your husband will just let him in, don't think I would have done that to anyone else if this was the place they called home back then, but I really don't know because that was not my situation. If the worst happens you could tell your husband you love him and will continue to support him, from someplace else, but can't live in such a situation. No one should, it is a boundary issue, not a love and support issue, I know after years of this stuff but certainly didn't in the middle of dealing with the chaos of it. I'm so very grateful for the people who loved me through the chaos but did not get drawn into it with me back then. They are my rocks today.

Today I can say it's totally different, my son will not stay more than 24 hours here, he doesn't know why, but it will not happen longer than that. We are on very good terms. I get the hugs and "I love you mom" both in person and on phone every couple of days. He's been without hot water in his apartment (provided from a non-profit mental health organization) for almost a month now. He's more than welcome to come over, even with his friends, to take a hot shower, order a pizza from the local place, take a swim in the pool, hang out in the house or in my she shed smoking pot, not my thing but it's legal here now. He knows though, that he will never live here again, if he blows it in some way where he lives, it's his problem. I make it clear to him, when needed, that he's got a very good deal where he is, I love him, but he will not live here, he's an adult living as one as he see's fit and remind him that living under "mommy's" roof would not suit him, he agrees, lol!

 

[New Leaf]

Hi Mirabelle,
I am so sorry you are going through this, and I definitely understand how it feels, having two daughters affected by their drug use. We are by no means living under normal circumstances. Whether or not it is our “imagination” run wild, the reality is that what has occurred in or out of our homes, dealing with loved ones gone off the rails, has wreaked havoc on our peace of mind and sense of security. PTSD, as Copa mentioned. Or, even TSD, because it is not “post” when a drug and street deranged, incapacitated loved one tries to manipulate you or your mate to house them. I understand how you are feeling, apprehensive, tense. I still feel that way when Tornado is on the streets. Even though she does not contact me, she has shown up at my home on rare occasion and it is quite unsettling. When she is incarcerated, I would get bombarded with daily phone calls and promises of rehab, demands for recent family photos and money put on her account. Oh the entitlement! As if I have nothing better to do than make her comfortable in jail! I have decided this time around not to communicate with her, that is hard some days, (she is still trying to call me) not so hard on others. I will always love her, but have to remind myself that I cannot have a relationship with her until she has shown by action that she truly wants to live a different lifestyle. Otherwise, I am just prey to her wiles. I think the bizarreness of loving someone who is manipulative, thieving and lacks moral compass has a way of wearing us down mentally, physically and spiritually.

I know some people on this site have dealt with adult children either emotionally or physically trying to push their way back in to their house and their wallet, fully believing that it is their right to do so, even if their parents have repeatedly refused to allow it. How did you feel / cope / react - what happened in your situation?

My eldest, who I call Rain here, has been MIA for years now. I keep her in my prayers, but there are times when I fight with myself over that empty place in my heart for her. She has not attempted to come home, call or stop by in a few years.
Tornado, when in jail, or rehab (she’s been three times now, not of her own accord, but forced through the courts) has always talked of “coming home”. I swallow that lump in my throat and tell her that there is real help for her in the system, more than the average person would receive and she should avail herself of that. We had a revolving door for years, and that never worked. My youngest favorite quote is “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and again and expecting different results.”
So very true.
It still isn’t easy saying no, but each time the logic of it sinks in. I have the added responsibility of raising Tornados daughter, that helps me stick to my word, because she has been through enough. I think the hard part is, as parents, we would do anything for our kids, we want to see them healthy and safe, leading productive lives, but if they don’t want that for themselves, what can we do? We have no control over them, they are adults. They will do as they please.
My Mom brain can go into hyper drive, and I have to shake myself back to the reality that my daughter wants to come home, not to change and get better, she doesn’t want to have to follow rules. She wants her cake and eat it to, at the expense of everyone else. There is no relationship to be kindled when so many boundaries have been crossed. The revolving door in my home closed seven years ago, after another of countless horrific episodes occurred and I found my then 14 year old son curled up on my bed, sobbing uncontrollably. I didn’t realize then, what all the madness was doing to my younger kids, let alone my hubs and I. My son told me “Why do we have people living in our home that we can’t trust?”
Logic.
My “help” never helped my daughters. They just kept going off the rails and dragged us all into their chaos.
I was so overwhelmed by it all, I would go to work and talk with my lunch buddy. Poor dear. What a burden to hear all of that mess. She finally told me “I think you need to go see a counselor.”
I hadn’t realized how much my twos choices and consequences had taken over my life. How they were not one bit concerned about their siblings, their parents, family. Their drama, a direct result of the company they kept and their drug use, spilled and flooded over our lives, my heart, my mind, it was a living nightmare.
My stomach churns with the memory of it.
Good.
I’m glad I am writing this to you, it is a reminder to me that I never want to go back to that.
Ever.
That’s the strong part of me. The weak wimpy voice in my head messes with that. Especially triggered by pleas to “come home”. My heart starts to call me “cold” and “unloving”, I go through all sorts of scenarios and “what ifs” if I don’t step in. But, I have come to the conclusion that trying to help only prolonged the misery for all of us. I think now, that even communicating with Tornado while in jail, just ups her ante to try to get me into rescue mode, and lessens her chances to focus on and get the real help she needs.
I feel for your husband, He is being bombarded with manipulative tactics and constant “emergencies” to get to his heart. That is so very tough. My Rain while on the streets had been in abusive relationships, where she was beaten and hospitalized. This tore my husband up inside, his father was abusive. Hubs worked so hard to provide for our kids so they would have better lives than he did and to see this happening to his daughters was torture. Rain showed up at the house one morning as I was getting ready for work, battered and disheveled. I begged her to let me take her to a DV shelter. She refused. The very next day, she rode up the driveway on a moped, all cleaned up, high as a kite.
Talk about emotional roller coaster.
The insanity of it all.
Someone has to pull up and out of it, and it has to be us.
You only have control over yourself. When I shut the revolving door, hubs was still deeply entrenched. That was hard. I told him there was no way I would go back to housing my daughters, that our two younger kids deserved to have peace, that we all deserved peace in our home. This made me the “bad guy” in my two way-wards eyes, and somewhat in his. It drove a wedge between us, and my two “triangulated” on this. He became their “go to” because they knew I was done. My eldest at one point, came at me, angrily standing over me. It was scary. I told my hubs and he told my daughter not to come around when I was home alone. But, he still continued to “help” her, weekly washing her clothes and feeding her. I couldn’t convince him that, that wasn’t helping her. He passed after battling various illness six years ago, that was hard and scary, having to deal with imagined scenarios being home with just my son.
I purchased a security camera and put it up on my front porch. It alerts me on my phone and records movement. This gives me some peace of mind, I can see on my phone who approaches my house. There are some reasonable deals out there on security cameras if you don’t already have them.
That being said, I hope you are able to communicate your fears with your husband. Hopefully that will help him stick to his word of not allowing your stepson home. I think you mentioned that you both attend naranon, which is helpful because we all need reinforcement of our right and obligation to our own selves to keep boundaries for our healths sake.
I came across a reel yesterday and forwarded it to my well children. The narrator said-
“I hate when people say- “But their still your family!”
“I don’t give a ! It’s okay to cut toxic people out of your life. You know why? Because blood ain’t thicker than peace of mind.”
I think I will put that on my fridge.
I hope that you are able to have a good heartfelt conversation with your husband about what you are going through, and he will be able to see eventually what is happening to him.
You matter. You both matter.
Peace of mind matters.
(((Hugs)))
New Leaf

 

[Nomore]

Hi Mirabelle,
I am so sorry you are going through this, and I definitely understand how it feels, having two daughters affected by their drug use. We are by no means living under normal circumstances. Whether or not it is our “imagination” run wild, the reality is that what has occurred in or out of our homes, dealing with loved ones gone off the rails, has wreaked havoc on our peace of mind and sense of security. PTSD, as Copa mentioned. Or, even TSD, because it is not “post” when a drug and street deranged, incapacitated loved one tries to manipulate you or your mate to house them. I understand how you are feeling, apprehensive, tense. I still feel that way when Tornado is on the streets. Even though she does not contact me, she has shown up at my home on rare occasion and it is quite unsettling. When she is incarcerated, I would get bombarded with daily phone calls and promises of rehab, demands for recent family photos and money put on her account. Oh the entitlement! As if I have nothing better to do than make her comfortable in jail! I have decided this time around not to communicate with her, that is hard some days, (she is still trying to call me) not so hard on others. I will always love her, but have to remind myself that I cannot have a relationship with her until she has shown by action that she truly wants to live a different lifestyle. Otherwise, I am just prey to her wiles. I think the bizarreness of loving someone who is manipulative, thieving and lacks moral compass has a way of wearing us down mentally, physically and spiritually.

My eldest, who I call Rain here, has been MIA for years now. I keep her in my prayers, but there are times when I fight with myself over that empty place in my heart for her. She has not attempted to come home, call or stop by in a few years.
Tornado, when in jail, or rehab (she’s been three times now, not of her own accord, but forced through the courts) has always talked of “coming home”. I swallow that lump in my throat and tell her that there is real help for her in the system, more than the average person would receive and she should avail herself of that. We had a revolving door for years, and that never worked. My youngest favorite quote is “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and again and expecting different results.”
So very true.
It still isn’t easy saying no, but each time the logic of it sinks in. I have the added responsibility of raising Tornados daughter, that helps me stick to my word, because she has been through enough. I think the hard part is, as parents, we would do anything for our kids, we want to see them healthy and safe, leading productive lives, but if they don’t want that for themselves, what can we do? We have no control over them, they are adults. They will do as they please.
My Mom brain can go into hyper drive, and I have to shake myself back to the reality that my daughter wants to come home, not to change and get better, she doesn’t want to have to follow rules. She wants her cake and eat it to, at the expense of everyone else. There is no relationship to be kindled when so many boundaries have been crossed. The revolving door in my home closed seven years ago, after another of countless horrific episodes occurred and I found my then 14 year old son curled up on my bed, sobbing uncontrollably. I didn’t realize then, what all the madness was doing to my younger kids, let alone my hubs and I. My son told me “Why do we have people living in our home that we can’t trust?”
Logic.
My “help” never helped my daughters. They just kept going off the rails and dragged us all into their chaos.
I was so overwhelmed by it all, I would go to work and talk with my lunch buddy. Poor dear. What a burden to hear all of that mess. She finally told me “I think you need to go see a counselor.”
I hadn’t realized how much my twos choices and consequences had taken over my life. How they were not one bit concerned about their siblings, their parents, family. Their drama, a direct result of the company they kept and their drug use, spilled and flooded over our lives, my heart, my mind, it was a living nightmare.
My stomach churns with the memory of it.
Good.
I’m glad I am writing this to you, it is a reminder to me that I never want to go back to that.
Ever.
That’s the strong part of me. The weak wimpy voice in my head messes with that. Especially triggered by pleas to “come home”. My heart starts to call me “cold” and “unloving”, I go through all sorts of scenarios and “what ifs” if I don’t step in. But, I have come to the conclusion that trying to help only prolonged the misery for all of us. I think now, that even communicating with Tornado while in jail, just ups her ante to try to get me into rescue mode, and lessens her chances to focus on and get the real help she needs.
I feel for your husband, He is being bombarded with manipulative tactics and constant “emergencies” to get to his heart. That is so very tough. My Rain while on the streets had been in abusive relationships, where she was beaten and hospitalized. This tore my husband up inside, his father was abusive. Hubs worked so hard to provide for our kids so they would have better lives than he did and to see this happening to his daughters was torture. Rain showed up at the house one morning as I was getting ready for work, battered and disheveled. I begged her to let me take her to a DV shelter. She refused. The very next day, she rode up the driveway on a moped, all cleaned up, high as a kite.
Talk about emotional roller coaster.
The insanity of it all.
Someone has to pull up and out of it, and it has to be us.
You only have control over yourself. When I shut the revolving door, hubs was still deeply entrenched. That was hard. I told him there was no way I would go back to housing my daughters, that our two younger kids deserved to have peace, that we all deserved peace in our home. This made me the “bad guy” in my two way-wards eyes, and somewhat in his. It drove a wedge between us, and my two “triangulated” on this. He became their “go to” because they knew I was done. My eldest at one point, came at me, angrily standing over me. It was scary. I told my hubs and he told my daughter not to come around when I was home alone. But, he still continued to “help” her, weekly washing her clothes and feeding her. I couldn’t convince him that, that wasn’t helping her. He passed after battling various illness six years ago, that was hard and scary, having to deal with imagined scenarios being home with just my son.
I purchased a security camera and put it up on my front porch. It alerts me on my phone and records movement. This gives me some peace of mind, I can see on my phone who approaches my house. There are some reasonable deals out there on security cameras if you don’t already have them.
That being said, I hope you are able to communicate your fears with your husband. Hopefully that will help him stick to his word of not allowing your stepson home. I think you mentioned that you both attend naranon, which is helpful because we all need reinforcement of our right and obligation to our own selves to keep boundaries for our healths sake.
I came across a reel yesterday and forwarded it to my well children. The narrator said-
“I hate when people say- “But their still your family!”
“I don’t give a ! It’s okay to cut toxic people out of your life. You know why? Because blood ain’t thicker than peace of mind.”
I think I will put that on my fridge.
I hope that you are able to have a good heartfelt conversation with your husband about what you are going through, and he will be able to see eventually what is happening to him.
You matter. You both matter.
Peace of mind matters.
(((Hugs)))
New Leaf

Outstanding and very helpful post that speaks to me and my resolve to "get out/stay out" (GOSO) of the toxic and twisted codependency dance with my son. I vow to no longer allow his untreated mental illness, alcoholism and narcassitic personality disorder destroy me - literally. Indeed "blood ain't thicker than peace of mind" nor is "blood thicker than blood"! I get so sick of "friends" who are oblivious to the reality that many of us are in true peril. And their banal advice like "he needs to just quit drinking" or "he needs professional help" just infuriates me. So...I've put these insipid "do gooders" on my "GOSO" list too.

 

[Mirabelle]

If your son held a job, got off drugs and became nicer he would be able to loive on his own without giving you tears and theatrics.

Busy, you are right on with this one. If he really wanted to help himself and made better choices, he would be able to live on his own. What is to be done with adult children who don't seem to be able to live ANYWHERE! They successfully alienate everyone - family, friends, and strangers alike - with their selfishness and self absorption, and complete lack of regard and respect for those whom they are lucky enough to live with. And this describes exactly what my son's behavior would look like if he were to move back in with us.

Thank you for your input. I have read a lot about you and Kay and it sounds as though unfortunately you are a trained professional when it comes to this stuff!

 

[Mirabelle]

Most of us develop some sort of PTSD-like reaction. I did. I got to the point where I don't want my son near my house. I know that I contributed to the problem because I panic around the thought of any potential breach of boundaries by him. I fall apart.

Painfully, I do not want to see my son now nor do I want to be with him. Of course, I miss him and I love him, but I have not found the skills and the strength to "bear him."

Thank you Copa. I really identify with what you say about just 'the thought of any potential breach of boundaries by him.' A good part of the reason I go into panic mode around this issue is because I do not want to see or be with my stepson at the moment either. Like you, I have not found the skills and the strength to cope with him in person. It is heartbreaking to see him, to the point of inducing an anxiety attack. The day he came knocking on my door unannounced, I was terrified that I would have to have face to face interaction with him. These days, he looks different, sounds different, acts different than the boy I love. A halfway homeless druggie off his medication. Which is exactly what he is. But knowing it and having the proof of it standing in front of you are two different things.