I let out a long breath, one I’d been holding for maybe 10 years. I don’t know if he’s gay. I don’t know if he’s an addict. I don’t know if he’s just confused or mourning or ready to pop that young adult paradigm. Whatever he’s got crawling in his closet doesn’t scare me as much as it’s rotting smell and the fact that it’s hidden.
I am not sure what to do. I’ve asked the questions I think are relevant so he knows that I’m concerned but not about to make a big hullaballoo about it. He’s suggesting things “to help you, Ma,” that really seem to be things he wants for himself. I’m not comfortable that he’s accepting medications from his friend and taking them to get to sleep. I’m a bit worried about his current drinking volume. I’m even worried about the positive things he seems to be doing to go forward in life.
As I sat in front of the television today and watched a teenaged take on Dangerous Liaisons, He sat in the library and watched American Dad or Modern Family or one of those insipid “comedies” that passes as edgy commentary on life nowadays. Watching one episode makes me want to vomit in anger. I desperately wanted us to at least sit together in the same room.
I am scared. Has our communication been this bad all along? Am I so scary that he can’t be upfront with me? What do I do now that I feel like this is out of control and I am already not doing well?