The one who wanted to kill me, the one who’d have no feelings about it either way as he’s oddly anti-social in a manner that four psychological evaluations have been unable to pinpoint without a great deal of descriptive and frightening words detailed in this previous post; this same child wouldn’t speak to me after I drove an hour for a family counseling session. Nor would he participate.

This results in yet another, “What now?”

We are possibly looking at another 10-13, an involuntary commitment where he’ll be transported two hours away from here both for his safety and ours to a state hospital. He’s not certain he feels safe with himself.

I simply despair.

I grieve over all the hell that my kids have been put through that has resulted in severe emotional issues. The drugs and the alcohol that their birth parents pickled their brains with such as some ultra serious drugs like crack, meth, and who knows what else?

A man in town unloaded on me about the sad choices his own birth son has made; raised in a Christian two parent family that loves him and raised him right, this son chucked it all in favor of living with a teenage girl and her parents who seemed to set no rules. The affair is now over but, of course, it resulted in a baby.

I bemoaned to a friend of mine, “It seems as if we are working with the aftermath of random, drunken sex that produced many unwanted children.”

She sardonically pointed out that likely most of the world’s population sprang forth, shall we say, unexpectedly.

She’s right; I know this, as I struggle to infuse a sense of self-worth in all my children who sometimes only seem to see the rejection that they suffered. No understanding at all that it is not their fault.

This one son, locked up in a psych ward, is not particularly unhappy today as no one is making him do anything. He was playing monopoly when I got there, not headed off to school. He has no chores, no responsibilities; TV and food handed to him.

Maybe this is the best case scenario for him in his mind?