It has been a crazy last few days. After a horrendous few days to a week son will call me as if nothing has happened and say, “hey momma, what’s up?” It’s as if he is oblivious to the fact he has just created total chaos on the street where he lives and with anyone around him such as us or his brother. I’m not complaining but I am perplexed and concerned. One of these up-down episodes he will end up being murdered the way he strikes out at anyone on the street.

My phone rang two days ago late morning and on the other end was my “real son.” I say it because he was calm, rational and I was able to have a dialect with him. THIS is my son. The rationality is short lived, just a mere number of days but I take it when I can get him that way. We are going to visit him soon and I have been compiling a list of what he needs for his small rented room. He has nothing.

We discuss the basics, he and I. A hot plate, a convection oven, food, dishes, all the things one needs in a new place. He then tells me his therapist had him take a random drug test and she has informed him he will be changed from his present Benzo’ medication to a different one. Later after we have hung up I call his therapist to express my concern about his dramatic highs and lows and also inquire if she would consider putting him on a stabilizer. One thing that’s always been consistent is son allowing me to speak to anyone medical or otherwise with his permission.

The woman is always condescending over the phone, I have a difficult time believing she even wants to help him. Try as he and I have, we cannot seem to get him to see an actual psychiatrist at the clinic he goes to, someone he may have a better sense of communication with. I hope this small reprieve from his demons lasts a few days for both our sakes. This stage is called “Back To Earth,” aptly so because when he phones me I have always teased him by saying “welcome back to the planet.” One day at a time.

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  1. Ellen says:

    What a great blog topic, kudos to you mom.

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