Mom Again. For Now. Grateful.

It took a village to bring my son back again. Back to a bed to sleep in, to another try for sanity and sobriety. I am so grateful. And realistic.

It’s like he has nine+ lives….if there are people to pull him out of the holes where he gets himself stuck. 

I’ll take it.

Last night I did my son’s laundry. A few selections pulled from the storage unit to get him settled in the new sober home that has accepted him. 

Hope Springs Up

That storage unit….many stories in the items in the garbage bags that served as Ben’s “luggage”. Shirts and shoes three sizes too big. A birth certificate and car keys that do NOT belong to him. A woman’s tiny denim shorts. A toy. An outfit for a baby. What?

Did my best to choose clothing that looked familiar and would fit Ben.

He calls me Mom again. Calls his sister. Tells me he loves me.

Here we go again. Maybe this time….we can always hope.

But. For now. I am a mother again, and my grandchildren have their uncle back.

Ben is 44 years old, and his sobriety is in his own hands. Schizophrenia makes this decision-making harder for him, but of course since he doesn’t think he has the illness (anosognosia, the biggest obstacle to helping many homeless) he will hopefully find his own reasons to stay clean and sober.

Truly. One day at a time.

If you read (or subscribe to) my posts, (https://substack.com/@randyekaye) you know Ben was homeless and often psychotic only a few weeks ago, wandering around our town and prompting numerous calls to the police from strangers.

How did we get from there (where Mobile Crisis couldn’t check enough boxes to declare him “gravely disabled”) to here, where he has asked me to find a few button-down shirts so he can “look nice at the AA meetings”?

Persistence. Knowledge. Pulling Strings. Calling in the Troops. People who have loved ones with SMI (Serious Mental Illness) often feel - and are - powerless. But we find ways to pull strings behind the scenes.

Some steps this time:

1. Alerting town police that my son needed help, and filling in the gaps re his medical and criminal justice history.

2. Calling Mobile Crisis whenever he was spotted in one place.

3. Begging the hospital to admit him when he was finally brought into the ER (not sure that actually affected their decision, but hey.)

4. Calls to the clinicians and care team at the mental health facility to offer documentation re medications and prior hospitalizations.

5. Refusing to agree to discharge “to a shelter” - WTAF?

6. Consulting (and listening to) the co-conservator (an attorney) re better discharge plans.

7. Educating the social worker at the hospital that yes, indeed, this WAS “her job”

8. Feedback (not entirely welcome, I’m afraid the news meds they have him on. No, not as effective as others.

9. And, today, driving my son to his new sober home, with clean laundry in the trunk.

We have my son back. For now.

I am grateful. To that social worker. To his doctors. To the nurses. To the sober community, the police, Mobile Crisis. To the attorney who is co-conservator. To the local restaurant staff (who know my son, because he used to work there), for their kindness to him and for calling Mobile Crisis after feeding him.

It truly takes a village.

For today, I am Mom again. And, as always, fingers crossed. I have let go of expectation, but I will always, always, hope.