Visiting tomorrow. I'm dreading it. My stomach tightens up in the morning when I remember what day it is. Anxiety. About all of it. But hey, I'm completely ready for my next flight and going through the TSA airport security lines. At every visit I go through 2 metal detectors, my bag through x-ray and I'm wanded before I go into the visiting room.
One of those metal detectors is extremely sensitive. I mean this thing is so sensitive that people walk near, not through, it and set it off. It's become a challenge to me to beat the metal detector. It's stupid things that help keep your sanity. I now know what metal every piece of clothing I own contains, in my glasses, and ear rings. I know what will and what won't set it off.
Now I'm considering going the other way, how much metal can I wear before wanding detects it so that the agent/officer asks me what I'm wearing. Getting wanded used to intimidate me. Now I know the men won't wand you as closely as a woman. Women wand a lot closer to the skin. I suspect it may be opposite if you're a man. Or women don't want to be accused of not doing their job.
But you never get used to the heavy metal doors shutting behind you. And you don't get used to trying hard not to cry as you leave. Dignity. You're just trying to reach dignity before you get to the bus stop.
Wednesday, January 10, 2018
My Son Was a Boy Scout
My son was a boy scout. His troop is the only group that not only has never failed him, but managed to build him up. When all of this happened, I didn't figure I had any choice but to withdraw him from his troop. No one wants their son in a group with a kid like mine. I guess it didn't matter. I now know he won't be out of jail before his 18th birthday anyway, the day you drop from the rolls automatically. But they haven't taken me off their email list and it hurts.
I was already seriously depressed about C. before his incident. He was obviously choosing this path: hanging out with the wrong kids and skipping school. It started in middle school, but that's another story. Until somewhat recently I sat in the back at most meetings and finally stopped when I just couldn't take all the kids who were motivated, who wanted to learn, who wanted to become more. C. was not. It didn't matter how much I nagged him. There's even a kid who is far more mentally challenged than C. who will be amazingly earning his Eagle Scout rank this year. I even told him that if A. could do it, so could he. Finally, I really couldn't take it any more when one of the first boys who he befriended was working on and earned his Eagle Scout. He didn't have to become an Eagle Scout, he just needed to show some interest in learning. That's what it's all about. Becoming better. C. doesn't want to become better. From all I could tell, the only thing C. wanted was to sit on his ass and play video games (which I did limit by the way).
So now the emails make me cry. There is no opportunity to even ignore the opportunity any more.
Listening to people talking at work, on the bus or about their normal kids make me cry.
It's not just about a future lost, it's about my obvious failure. It's about the feeling with him that I had that I was watching C. jump off a cliff falling in slow motion and he's finally splatted in landing..
I know I'm not alone and I know that there are many, many parents going through the same thing with far more serious outcomes than what my son is facing. I can't imagine having my child sentenced to death or to 4 times their age where I would more likely to have died before he's released. But the grief! The grief is greater than I can even begin to describe. He's dead, but I get to see his physical ghost twice a week.
I was already seriously depressed about C. before his incident. He was obviously choosing this path: hanging out with the wrong kids and skipping school. It started in middle school, but that's another story. Until somewhat recently I sat in the back at most meetings and finally stopped when I just couldn't take all the kids who were motivated, who wanted to learn, who wanted to become more. C. was not. It didn't matter how much I nagged him. There's even a kid who is far more mentally challenged than C. who will be amazingly earning his Eagle Scout rank this year. I even told him that if A. could do it, so could he. Finally, I really couldn't take it any more when one of the first boys who he befriended was working on and earned his Eagle Scout. He didn't have to become an Eagle Scout, he just needed to show some interest in learning. That's what it's all about. Becoming better. C. doesn't want to become better. From all I could tell, the only thing C. wanted was to sit on his ass and play video games (which I did limit by the way).
So now the emails make me cry. There is no opportunity to even ignore the opportunity any more.
Listening to people talking at work, on the bus or about their normal kids make me cry.
- Oh, she's learning to drive now. My insides are crying.
- Oh, he's getting to do a year abroad in college. My insides are crying.
- Oh, he's working on getting his college applications filled out and turned in. My insides are crying.
- Oh, we're getting her senior pictures taken tomorrow. My insides are crying.
It's not just about a future lost, it's about my obvious failure. It's about the feeling with him that I had that I was watching C. jump off a cliff falling in slow motion and he's finally splatted in landing..
I know I'm not alone and I know that there are many, many parents going through the same thing with far more serious outcomes than what my son is facing. I can't imagine having my child sentenced to death or to 4 times their age where I would more likely to have died before he's released. But the grief! The grief is greater than I can even begin to describe. He's dead, but I get to see his physical ghost twice a week.
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