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Talking Someone Off The Ledge

Usually, I go home, shed my professional attire, put on the comfy clothes, try and get in a workout and then relax for the evening.

Not last night.

First, I had to run all over the city after work, picking up two kids from two different places and do some errands.

Next, I had to drive home in rush hour traffic with two teenagers in the car.

Got home, was "hangry" (hungry/angry), sat down next to Dear Husband, and...the house exploded.

Well, not really. It was really Youngest Son who exploded. Why? Who the #$^@ knows...Partially, he was upset about a gaming system that wasn't working. Partially, he was mad because he wanted our "permission" to leave and not come home. Partially, he's depressed and scared out of his mind.

It took me two hours to "talk him down." He was raging, screaming, sweating. Begging to leave, but not making any move to go. Telling us how much we had failed him, yet crying out for help from us. Telling us he'd shoot himself in the head if he had a gun, then finally asking for something to eat.

What is it like to be 17 and be this scared, angry, depressed? To look at your future and see...nothing? A void. To feel so much disconnect between yourself and the people who love you most?

I don't know. I do know what it's like to be the mother of this child. And it is so painful.

While I was talking to him, I was whispering the Memorare, over and over. Saying the name of Jesus. Praying without words for this child who is standing on the ledge. Hoping that those prayers were enough to pull him from that ledge just one more time. Give us one more chance to help him.

He wants the help, and can't see how any of this will do any good. God, depression is such an evil monster. It puts people on that ledge and makes the leap look so enticing. I hate this disease, but I won't stop fighting for my child.

Here's hoping for a better night tonight. Just one day at a time. One evening. One night. Then one more day tomorrow. Breathe. Pray.

He let me hug him. I told him he didn't have to hug me back, and he didn't, but he let me hold him. I got him off that ledge one more time.

Comments

  1. I talked Middle Son down, but over the phone. How the torn heart pounds; the mind begs God for wisdom, for the words! May our Mother Mary spread her cloak over you both, and may St. Michael do battle for you. Praying for you. ~ Rosemary in Ohio

    ReplyDelete
  2. It's horrible, and draining and scary. I keep praying....

    ReplyDelete
  3. Praying that what the enemy of our souls meant for evil - to harm you and your family - our Lord will turn into something good, for His glory, and that He will let a double portion of His grace, mercy, and peace fall on you and on your family. Our Father, may Your light drive out darkness, and Your healing hand restore and bring joy. O, Holy Spirit, renew and re-create; lift from the quicksand and wash with living water; set your children's feet on solid rock and strengthen them with Your truth. In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen. ~ Rosemary in Ohio

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Crossing Guard

I saw you
today
as you guided
your little man across that busy street.

You were wearing some
big man boots
and
watching cars and lights.

Your little man had on
black sneakers and
a Mickey Mouse hat
that bounced
as he walked.

He wasn't watching nothing but
your big man boots
and
the white stripes of the crosswalk.

Just before
he got to the sidewalk again,
his step bounced a bit
- he hopped over
a spot where the asphalt broke.

You turned to look,
holding out a hand to
your little man.
Not rushed or angry,
just making sure
he got up
on that sidewalk.

Then you walked on,
in your big man boots,
face into a cold Michigan wind,
with the little man behind,
his hat bouncing.