December 13, 2017.
He is set for official discharge.
Our therapy session ended today with him telling us “I won’t be home long”.
I can’t argue with that. I have learned the hard way that there is literally nothing I can do to make him stay. So I answer from the newly created space in my brain “Okay. I hope you can enjoy your time while you are home.” His reply is silence and then a flash of words meant to cause me pain, “So you don’t want me to stay. You just want me to visit and then go back?”
Before I can react emotionally, the new place in my brain responds without hesitation “I bought you some new jeans and those soft long sleeve shirts you like. I put them in your dresser last night.”
Silence, then more silence. As I am about to speak before I should, he makes a half hearted attempt to encite again. “You just don’t care and you are done with me and I don’t want to come back at all.”
Your turn, your turn my brain screams. It’s your turn to respond. Literally out of nowhere comes the freakin song from Vanilla Ice, and all I hear in my brain is “Stop, collaborate, and listen.” People my mind has been worked hard in therapy the last two months. I started out the gate running and then this , this is what my brain gives me.
So, Vanilla Ice spoke to my son. “Listen (son) we need to work together during therapy and you ARE coming home so I will listen to whatever you need to tell me.”
I work for two months on 2-3 times weekly therapy and a disgraced rapper saves our therapy session.