The Same Old Story
I sat with James for one hour last night. I explained some of the feelings I have, and Cheryl shares, regarding his behavior at home. I said everything I needed to say in ten minutes scattered through the hour. He rambled for the other 50 minutes. He responded to my concernes but most of his his rant was old news, the same delusional ideas. He laid out his thread of 911, Yale, NYC, law, politics, the Pope, Hitler, the Vatican, Nostradamus and a few new ideas that dominate his mind. I wish I had a tape recorder.
I unlocked his Wonderland, walked in, and stayed a while. I think he felt good talking about what's on his mind and while I did not feel good listening, I gave him my ear. I did not agree with anything he said. I questioned a few ideas. Of course, he had answers.
In the past few weeks he's written several checks totaling $350,000,000.00. They were written from one account and deposited to another. According to James, the bank's director of corporate security emailed him. They've closed one of these accounts. The second will follow. He believes this is a temporary set back that will be soon resolved. He'll get his money and move on.
In the meantime, I think he understands how we feel about our interaction at home. I think he knows I'm trying my best to make him comfortable even though I'm aware he hates being here, dependent on me. I only ask that he be more considerate and respectful. We'll see how that goes.
This is my son's only home. I will never kick him out of my house. I will never ask him to leave. I will never provoke him in a manner that causes him to leave. Only a direct threat or an act of violence would cause me to remove him from this house. In that case, the police would be involved.
I know James will never be evaluated or treated unless he asks for help, which he's unlikely to do, or if he hurts someone resulting in his arrest and/or hospitalization.
Knowing I have these limits makes it impossible to set the conditions I thought were reasonable before I brought James home from Detroit. I may be doing some things wrong. I know I've done a few right. There's no instruction manual so I really don't know what to do most of the time. I won't set conditions and consequences I'm unwilling to enforce. Life at home may be difficult, but having my mentally ill son on the streets would be worse.
There are times when I think my expectations of him are unreasonable. Other times I feel 'this is the least he could do', sane or not. I don't know where the boundary is. It seems to move from day to day.
Last night's talk was surreal, like a dream I've had many times. Everything he said was familiar, bizarre, and disturbing. His ability to connect random events, unrelated ideas, past, present, and the future, with people who've never met is fascinating. It's also spooky. I makes me realize he can make anything happen in his mind. Which means he can jusitfy any action.
Strangely enough, I felt good after we talked simply because I made the effort to talk and listen, and he responded in a way that makes me think he understands how we feel. Or maybe I'm being as delusional as he is.
I unlocked his Wonderland, walked in, and stayed a while. I think he felt good talking about what's on his mind and while I did not feel good listening, I gave him my ear. I did not agree with anything he said. I questioned a few ideas. Of course, he had answers.
In the past few weeks he's written several checks totaling $350,000,000.00. They were written from one account and deposited to another. According to James, the bank's director of corporate security emailed him. They've closed one of these accounts. The second will follow. He believes this is a temporary set back that will be soon resolved. He'll get his money and move on.
In the meantime, I think he understands how we feel about our interaction at home. I think he knows I'm trying my best to make him comfortable even though I'm aware he hates being here, dependent on me. I only ask that he be more considerate and respectful. We'll see how that goes.
This is my son's only home. I will never kick him out of my house. I will never ask him to leave. I will never provoke him in a manner that causes him to leave. Only a direct threat or an act of violence would cause me to remove him from this house. In that case, the police would be involved.
I know James will never be evaluated or treated unless he asks for help, which he's unlikely to do, or if he hurts someone resulting in his arrest and/or hospitalization.
Knowing I have these limits makes it impossible to set the conditions I thought were reasonable before I brought James home from Detroit. I may be doing some things wrong. I know I've done a few right. There's no instruction manual so I really don't know what to do most of the time. I won't set conditions and consequences I'm unwilling to enforce. Life at home may be difficult, but having my mentally ill son on the streets would be worse.
There are times when I think my expectations of him are unreasonable. Other times I feel 'this is the least he could do', sane or not. I don't know where the boundary is. It seems to move from day to day.
Last night's talk was surreal, like a dream I've had many times. Everything he said was familiar, bizarre, and disturbing. His ability to connect random events, unrelated ideas, past, present, and the future, with people who've never met is fascinating. It's also spooky. I makes me realize he can make anything happen in his mind. Which means he can jusitfy any action.
Strangely enough, I felt good after we talked simply because I made the effort to talk and listen, and he responded in a way that makes me think he understands how we feel. Or maybe I'm being as delusional as he is.