We’d been having a good run lately. No screaming, no doors slamming. Until last night, or rather early this morning. GS woke us up at 2 AM because he said his dad was acting funny. We avoided a huge scene. But Husband really harshed Son’s mellow.
I almost wouldn’t care if he would do this once in a while, if he’d just wait until he was alone. I’ve never known of a drug that when you take it you just keep asking what’s wrong and won’t stop stumbling about. At this point I know I can do very little to change him. But I don’t want to see him when he’s like this. When I confronted him that I thought what he was doing was irresponsible, and he’s response was, “Well, yeah, that’s what drugs are for.”
My mellow has certainly been harshed. My energy is low today, and not just because I’m tired. I had to force myself to take my usual walk. So far I haven’t broken down and cried.
Right now Son is in my room justifying his actions by saying it’s the only fun thing in his life. He goes nowhere, sees no one, has no friends, sleeps on his parents living room floor. It’s his release. Something he’s done for 20 years and has nothing else left. He’s got no way to get on his feet. And really, in many ways he is right. Except there is always a way–he just hasn’t found it yet.
I hate the feeling of helplessness. Helpless to help someone. Helpless to change things. It’s almost depression. I’m trying to stay positive–thank goodness for (legal) drugs. I just dread when Husband comes home. I think I will try to get them to go somewhere to talk. Someplace public, to keep them more civil. But I expect the yelling will start shortly after dinner. I think I will plan to take GS to the movies. Is that chicken of me?