A hard discussion on this chapter in Notes On The Spectrum: An Angry Young Man
It is hard for me to write this. I am on break from my grocery store job, my survival job as a cashier. As I checked out of the house this morning, my son roused from the rocking chair on the screen porch as I dipped into the hot tub just before 6 am. He didn’t speak.
Last night as I was going to bed, I sent him this message.
He didn’t take my advice. This morning, I am more acutely aware that he has dipped back into his habit and commerce. He left his kit all over the house. He left out two phones. A burner phone, again? WTF?
Bad idea. Fatal strikes in my house.
I reached out to the stepdad first. No reply. I pinged his mom a few hours later. Her response was as frustrating as her last.
This is her framing in action.
“He does not need therapy IMO.” Um, okay. I’ll wait and see what else she comes up with. I’m going to let the sleeping dog lie. “Not sure about us meeting without Jason…” Well, okay, you’re ready to have the intervention conversation then? “…but maybe.” WTF does that mean?
A slow, no alarms pace. That was my framing. No need to boost him out of bed right now and send him to the mountain. Besides, unwilling, he’s going to bolt. He has a car now. Not one that will get him very far, but he has a getaway car. He can sleep in it, I suppose, if he needs to.
So, mom and stepdad have been checked out of the frontlines for most of the Summer and all of the Fall as I dealt with our chupacabra. We are now three years in on this process; you’d think she’d develop a sense of urgency. I have learned to have zero expectations about my ex-wife’s emotional availability. Whatever she’s focused on is more important than our son.
I suggested in a reply that perhaps our son would visit DC with them again this year, like he did two years ago. Two years ago, the DC Thanksgiving trip was where is burner phone was discovered for the first time.
Time to shore up my resources. Buckle down on my own self-care and discipline.
At this moment, I pause and take a breath. I am off work in three and a half hours. There is nothing to be done at this moment. Let her and her husband come up with some ideas of their own. I’ll simply do my job today. Let the force flow through me. Release my expectations of the next 24 – 48 hours.
I will make two requests. No loaded weapons in the house, 100%. And the bigger issue, for his mom, he needs to find another place to live in December. He’s abused my empathetic parent, my welcome without judgment or questions. My longing to have a relationship with him, though he shows no signs of meeting me halfway. In fact, he’s flipping the bird at me.
No drugs. No selling. No using. Today is November 2oth. My birthday is on Thanksgiving in one week. A lot can happen. Most of it this time will be with little input from me. Let his mom take a stab at his recovery again. Since she’s convinced he doesn’t need more therapy, I’m so interested to see what she proposes. And if she’ll take the responsibility to invite him to DC. He will protest. “I’ve got a deadline.” But, he’s always got a deadline. Three so far that he’s failed to present for.
He does not see this as his fault. It’s the technology. It’s the UX guy. Now, a designer for the interface from Ukraine. What? Why not someone local? Someone you could meet with. Someone who would also hold you accountable for the deliverables you promised?
I’m afraid his attempt to revive the side hustle is about to come to a crashing halt. Unless he can jump to his mom’s new house. I know they have an actual guest room and no need for a music room.
A lot is in motion. The grey clouds are showing now, dark and bruised. Full rain predicted by 3 this afternoon. Should rain for at least 24 hours. A lot will be known then that is not known now. Or, perhaps, we’ll just back-burner it, like his mom suggests.
