Post by Dr. T is an alien on Oct 19, 2014 23:56:23 GMT -5
I have occasionally posted about my troubles with my stepson on these forums. Many people said they felt my pain and were supportive. Some offered an insight into the mind of an addict that I don't personally have. Others still pointed the finger at me for my part in my troubles. Truth is, every one of you has had a point, whether you were supportive or not.
Well, I guess I will give my monthly update tonight. It is a little surreal this time.
Since the last time I posted on what was happening the boy was working a job. He was not particularly fond of the job, but it paid money and one cannot buy weed without it, so he sucked it up and worked. For a while he was almost tolerable. He did not pick a lot of fights. He was working nights and sleeping during the day, so he was out of the way for the most part. Unfortunately, that still left the weekends for him to be an intolerable dick. He cranked it up to 11 three weeks ago, in the aftermath of an argument we had with him because he was sitting in my shed at 10 in the evening yelling at hallucinations of a guy creeping around my backyard shooting at him. The argument focused on his need to get help and how we could not stand to watch him destroy his life and we were no longer willing to let him dictate how our lives had to be lived. The argument led to his mother getting so upset with him that he actually elected to leave of his own accord. We were both apprehensive but glad for the reprieve his departure provided.
Well, our concerns were well founded. Without what little structure he allowed us to provide him, he stopped going to work and lost his job. He also was kicked out of his friend's house in remarkably fast fashion and lived for almost a week in the woods between KMart and Manards (a train track ran between them, so there was a wooded area there in the first place because Indiana Rail Road, the company that owns the tracks, did not develop the land around that section of the tracks). Apparently it is a hang out spot for junkies. He came back when he managed to catch himself on fire (I still cannot tell if he was trying to keep warm of if he was trying to do something less wholesome). I almost did not let him back in when he showed up and asked if he could take a shower, since I knew if I let him in he would not leave, but it was cold and raining. I knew that his mother would have been eternally guilty if we turned him away at that moment, so I caved and let him in.
Truth be told, the past week had not been too terribly bad, for the most part. He made a real effort to stay sober when we let him back into our home. I legitimately do not think he had anything other than pipe tobacco during that time. He was more agreeable in general. He was even a nicer person. The only downside was that he still talking to himself (and he apparently has no concept of how to talk quietly).
Still, now that he had no job again the momentary clarity that not taking any harmful substances provided him led him to actually get motivated into doing something with his life. He had wanted for some time to try to get on as a plumber's intern, which is an actual paid position, but until this past week had not had the wherewithal to even take the first step. He contacted the group that organized the training and they told him of an open house at the local plumber's union that he could go to in order to get started in the process. Unfortunately, it was early Saturday in a city two hours away and you might recall that he has not vehicle of his own anymore (a drug dealer has it).
As a supportive family, we all made a day of taking him across the freaking state so that he could take this next, positive step in his life. We had tried to warn him that he would probably have to wait to get started, but he did not believe that. When we picked him back up after the open house (myself and the rest of the family went to the local zoo in the meantime), he was rather dejected. He was told that the next opening was in January, but he should be able to get in if he was serious about it (apparently they liked him at the open house). Being told to wait let him to be a surly prick that after a two hour drive back home, was no longer tolerable. I tried to cut off a rant of his in order to point out the positives of being told to wait until January (they actually have a training schedule set in place that far ahead, which indicated that they were both well organized and serious about it, they liked him and probably would take him, he did not have to find a long term job right now and could simply settle on a crap part time job since he actually had a viable plan in place, etc.). He started to yell at me in response, which led my wife to completely lose her shit. She unleashed the most explosive, curse laden diatribe on him and his behavior that shock me, the two younger kids in the van, and actually reduced my stepson to tears.
When we got home he holed himself up in my shed again. When he started talking out loud to himself again I went out to talk to him. We actually had a good heart to heart conversation. He started seeming upbeat again. He legitimately outlined his own faults. He talked about the urges that he has and actually admitted just how harmful they were to him. He talked about the hold that meth still has on his life despite the fact that he has not had any in many months (everything else he did was an attempt to sate those urges for meth without actually getting back into that mess). He and I mapped out a plan for him to follow while he waited for January and he seemed legitimately comfortable with that plan.
That all went to shit this morning. I am always late at rising in the morning (getting up when normal people do sucks!), so I missed some of the fun this morning until my wife came into our room to collapse on the bed crying. Apparently he woke up today and the world was all against him again and we were just playing mindgames with him for fun. We talked for a while until we started hearing yelling downstairs again. My wife tore downstairs as I tossed on yesterday's clothes (actually, now that I think on it I still have them on. No wonder I feel a little funky).
After I got dressed I went downstairs to find my wife, my stepson, and my 15 year old all screaming and cussing at each other. Now, I don't like to yell but when I choose to I can drown out and scare the piss out of about anyone (resonating and deep voices can do that). I yelled at them all to knock it off and tell me what in hell is going on. My wife told me that my stepson hit my 15 year old, though it turns out it was not quite as deliberate as that. He did, however, try to play a "brotherly" joke on the 15 year old and got angry when the younger boy did not appreciate his "humor". He did grab and manhandle the younger boy (who, like me and my youngest kid, has LG-MD and is not particularly equipped to push him off), hurting him some in the process.
To say that this did not go over well was an understatement. The screaming started back up again. I made the younger one go upstairs (and a minute later had to yell at him to get in his room and stay out of the rest of the conversation after he started yelling out a response to something his brother had said from the top of the stairs). Removing one screaming person from the argument did not calm the situation down too much as my wife was livid. To be honest, I wanted to make her go upstairs too so that I could deal with the situation as his responses to his mother just escalated her anguish (and was designed to do so) and I am harder for him to bait in such a manner.
He started telling his mother that he wished he was dead. He even pulled a bullet out of his pocket and said that all he needs is to find someone with a gun that the bullet works in. At this point my wife lost it as she assumed that he was just saying that to hurt her more. Yeah, she physically tried to assault him again and I had to keep pulling her off of him (this time he did not threaten me for doing so, so that was an improvement). My wife gave him an ultimatum: Get help or get the f*** out. He refused both. He made some comment about trying to establish power or some shit like that and I dropped the hammer on him. You don't have any power anymore. If I want him out of the house, his manhandling his brother the way he did was grounds for restraining order. No eviction bullshit required. I could call the cops and have him forcibly removed from the house if I so chose. I told him he either had to go to the hospital to get evaluated for his issues or I call the cops. He paused for a moment and declared he was not going anywhere. I told him I was not bluffing. He screamed up to the heavens "Jesus, I know you will sort out everything when I'm dead!!" I told him that did it. He then ran up the stairs and locked himself into his room (you know, with the locks that you can unlock with the ink cartridge of any fountain pen).
Well, I certainly could not make that threat and not follow up. I first called the hospital to determine exactly what had to be done to forcibly check in a 19 year old to the psych ward. Ultimately, I had to call the sheriff and tell them that he had threatened to kill himself (which he did, though I am not so sure did not simply do so to hurt his mother's feelings). When the deputy arrived he had settled down and come to grips with the notion that he f***ed up royally this time. He came down on his own when the deputy ran the doorbell. He was respectful to the cops. He gave his own accounting of what happened. He admitted that he did say that he wanted to kill himself, though he claimed that he was a liar and only said that to hurt us.
However, since he said those words that was enough for the deputy. He said that by law he had to take him to get evaluated since he said those magic words. They searched him, took away his pocketknife and the bullet he showed us, and told him that regulations said that they had to take him in handcuffs for everyone's safety. He did not resist and was civil about it. Therefore, a deputy led my stepson, wearing a bright orange jacket, from my house in handcuffs today. My neighbors could not have missed that, especially after the screaming match that precipitated it.
The older deputy stayed as my stepson was driven off to explain what would happen. If he willingly checked himself in when they got to the hospital, he would have the ability to check himself out at any time. If he refused to do so they could and would force him to stay for 72 hours observation. We expressed concern that the doctor that evaluates him would not get the full picture and just see him in his calm demeanor that he had when the cops got to our house. The deputy then told us that if we wanted to we could go to the hospital to talk to the doctor. After waiting at the hospital with my wife for 3 hours (basically for the entirety of the Colts/Bengals game playing in the waiting room), we were finally told by a staff member that thanks to rules and regulations they actually could not even confirm or deny that he was ever there, let alone let us talk to any doctor he might have seen. I really wish that it had not taken 3 hours for the fourth staff member we talked to about this to know that we were wasting our time.
Long story short, I don't know if he is actually at the hospital or not. He could have willingly checked himself in and then checked himself out 1 hour later (and possibly leaving the hospital 2 hours before my wife and I did). He might actually be there getting help that he needs. I don't know. I just know that he currently is not at my house and I now have the ability to force him to leave. I am taking tomorrow off to explore what my options were regarding restraining orders.
Well, I guess I will give my monthly update tonight. It is a little surreal this time.
Since the last time I posted on what was happening the boy was working a job. He was not particularly fond of the job, but it paid money and one cannot buy weed without it, so he sucked it up and worked. For a while he was almost tolerable. He did not pick a lot of fights. He was working nights and sleeping during the day, so he was out of the way for the most part. Unfortunately, that still left the weekends for him to be an intolerable dick. He cranked it up to 11 three weeks ago, in the aftermath of an argument we had with him because he was sitting in my shed at 10 in the evening yelling at hallucinations of a guy creeping around my backyard shooting at him. The argument focused on his need to get help and how we could not stand to watch him destroy his life and we were no longer willing to let him dictate how our lives had to be lived. The argument led to his mother getting so upset with him that he actually elected to leave of his own accord. We were both apprehensive but glad for the reprieve his departure provided.
Well, our concerns were well founded. Without what little structure he allowed us to provide him, he stopped going to work and lost his job. He also was kicked out of his friend's house in remarkably fast fashion and lived for almost a week in the woods between KMart and Manards (a train track ran between them, so there was a wooded area there in the first place because Indiana Rail Road, the company that owns the tracks, did not develop the land around that section of the tracks). Apparently it is a hang out spot for junkies. He came back when he managed to catch himself on fire (I still cannot tell if he was trying to keep warm of if he was trying to do something less wholesome). I almost did not let him back in when he showed up and asked if he could take a shower, since I knew if I let him in he would not leave, but it was cold and raining. I knew that his mother would have been eternally guilty if we turned him away at that moment, so I caved and let him in.
Truth be told, the past week had not been too terribly bad, for the most part. He made a real effort to stay sober when we let him back into our home. I legitimately do not think he had anything other than pipe tobacco during that time. He was more agreeable in general. He was even a nicer person. The only downside was that he still talking to himself (and he apparently has no concept of how to talk quietly).
Still, now that he had no job again the momentary clarity that not taking any harmful substances provided him led him to actually get motivated into doing something with his life. He had wanted for some time to try to get on as a plumber's intern, which is an actual paid position, but until this past week had not had the wherewithal to even take the first step. He contacted the group that organized the training and they told him of an open house at the local plumber's union that he could go to in order to get started in the process. Unfortunately, it was early Saturday in a city two hours away and you might recall that he has not vehicle of his own anymore (a drug dealer has it).
As a supportive family, we all made a day of taking him across the freaking state so that he could take this next, positive step in his life. We had tried to warn him that he would probably have to wait to get started, but he did not believe that. When we picked him back up after the open house (myself and the rest of the family went to the local zoo in the meantime), he was rather dejected. He was told that the next opening was in January, but he should be able to get in if he was serious about it (apparently they liked him at the open house). Being told to wait let him to be a surly prick that after a two hour drive back home, was no longer tolerable. I tried to cut off a rant of his in order to point out the positives of being told to wait until January (they actually have a training schedule set in place that far ahead, which indicated that they were both well organized and serious about it, they liked him and probably would take him, he did not have to find a long term job right now and could simply settle on a crap part time job since he actually had a viable plan in place, etc.). He started to yell at me in response, which led my wife to completely lose her shit. She unleashed the most explosive, curse laden diatribe on him and his behavior that shock me, the two younger kids in the van, and actually reduced my stepson to tears.
When we got home he holed himself up in my shed again. When he started talking out loud to himself again I went out to talk to him. We actually had a good heart to heart conversation. He started seeming upbeat again. He legitimately outlined his own faults. He talked about the urges that he has and actually admitted just how harmful they were to him. He talked about the hold that meth still has on his life despite the fact that he has not had any in many months (everything else he did was an attempt to sate those urges for meth without actually getting back into that mess). He and I mapped out a plan for him to follow while he waited for January and he seemed legitimately comfortable with that plan.
That all went to shit this morning. I am always late at rising in the morning (getting up when normal people do sucks!), so I missed some of the fun this morning until my wife came into our room to collapse on the bed crying. Apparently he woke up today and the world was all against him again and we were just playing mindgames with him for fun. We talked for a while until we started hearing yelling downstairs again. My wife tore downstairs as I tossed on yesterday's clothes (actually, now that I think on it I still have them on. No wonder I feel a little funky).
After I got dressed I went downstairs to find my wife, my stepson, and my 15 year old all screaming and cussing at each other. Now, I don't like to yell but when I choose to I can drown out and scare the piss out of about anyone (resonating and deep voices can do that). I yelled at them all to knock it off and tell me what in hell is going on. My wife told me that my stepson hit my 15 year old, though it turns out it was not quite as deliberate as that. He did, however, try to play a "brotherly" joke on the 15 year old and got angry when the younger boy did not appreciate his "humor". He did grab and manhandle the younger boy (who, like me and my youngest kid, has LG-MD and is not particularly equipped to push him off), hurting him some in the process.
To say that this did not go over well was an understatement. The screaming started back up again. I made the younger one go upstairs (and a minute later had to yell at him to get in his room and stay out of the rest of the conversation after he started yelling out a response to something his brother had said from the top of the stairs). Removing one screaming person from the argument did not calm the situation down too much as my wife was livid. To be honest, I wanted to make her go upstairs too so that I could deal with the situation as his responses to his mother just escalated her anguish (and was designed to do so) and I am harder for him to bait in such a manner.
He started telling his mother that he wished he was dead. He even pulled a bullet out of his pocket and said that all he needs is to find someone with a gun that the bullet works in. At this point my wife lost it as she assumed that he was just saying that to hurt her more. Yeah, she physically tried to assault him again and I had to keep pulling her off of him (this time he did not threaten me for doing so, so that was an improvement). My wife gave him an ultimatum: Get help or get the f*** out. He refused both. He made some comment about trying to establish power or some shit like that and I dropped the hammer on him. You don't have any power anymore. If I want him out of the house, his manhandling his brother the way he did was grounds for restraining order. No eviction bullshit required. I could call the cops and have him forcibly removed from the house if I so chose. I told him he either had to go to the hospital to get evaluated for his issues or I call the cops. He paused for a moment and declared he was not going anywhere. I told him I was not bluffing. He screamed up to the heavens "Jesus, I know you will sort out everything when I'm dead!!" I told him that did it. He then ran up the stairs and locked himself into his room (you know, with the locks that you can unlock with the ink cartridge of any fountain pen).
Well, I certainly could not make that threat and not follow up. I first called the hospital to determine exactly what had to be done to forcibly check in a 19 year old to the psych ward. Ultimately, I had to call the sheriff and tell them that he had threatened to kill himself (which he did, though I am not so sure did not simply do so to hurt his mother's feelings). When the deputy arrived he had settled down and come to grips with the notion that he f***ed up royally this time. He came down on his own when the deputy ran the doorbell. He was respectful to the cops. He gave his own accounting of what happened. He admitted that he did say that he wanted to kill himself, though he claimed that he was a liar and only said that to hurt us.
However, since he said those words that was enough for the deputy. He said that by law he had to take him to get evaluated since he said those magic words. They searched him, took away his pocketknife and the bullet he showed us, and told him that regulations said that they had to take him in handcuffs for everyone's safety. He did not resist and was civil about it. Therefore, a deputy led my stepson, wearing a bright orange jacket, from my house in handcuffs today. My neighbors could not have missed that, especially after the screaming match that precipitated it.
The older deputy stayed as my stepson was driven off to explain what would happen. If he willingly checked himself in when they got to the hospital, he would have the ability to check himself out at any time. If he refused to do so they could and would force him to stay for 72 hours observation. We expressed concern that the doctor that evaluates him would not get the full picture and just see him in his calm demeanor that he had when the cops got to our house. The deputy then told us that if we wanted to we could go to the hospital to talk to the doctor. After waiting at the hospital with my wife for 3 hours (basically for the entirety of the Colts/Bengals game playing in the waiting room), we were finally told by a staff member that thanks to rules and regulations they actually could not even confirm or deny that he was ever there, let alone let us talk to any doctor he might have seen. I really wish that it had not taken 3 hours for the fourth staff member we talked to about this to know that we were wasting our time.
Long story short, I don't know if he is actually at the hospital or not. He could have willingly checked himself in and then checked himself out 1 hour later (and possibly leaving the hospital 2 hours before my wife and I did). He might actually be there getting help that he needs. I don't know. I just know that he currently is not at my house and I now have the ability to force him to leave. I am taking tomorrow off to explore what my options were regarding restraining orders.
