Today I was informed that M snuck out of his barracks during the night last weekend with two other cadets. They tried to purchase NyQuil.
I am sad, but I am not panicked. I am frustrated, but I am not angry. I am concerned, but I am not desperate.
Sad…because M is hurting himself in ways that break a mother’s heart. It’s difficult to watch your child hurt the same little body you protected in so many ways, for so many years.
Frustrated…because I can’t speed up time and make his brain develop faster. (I know that sounds ridiculous, but part of my survival at the moment is linked to the fact that his struggles with addiction really are connected to that frontal-lobe thing. Surely this will get better by the time he’s 25? )
Concerned…because while I appreciate he’s in a safe environment, I realize that military school isn’t a guaranteed solution. He is still his own worst enemy.
After several conversations, I am certain that the heroes I’ve passed the baton to have a better chance of protecting him now than we did. We are so lucky that he is there, but I really miss him.