I started this morning the same way I ended last night - in tears. Yesterday it was the bathtub. Today... it's Greg's truck.
Scott is trying to get rid of Greg's truck for Amy, but he said it's a disaster. The cab of the truck was filled from the floor to the roof in the back and in the front - leaving only a very small place for Greg to sit. There were clothes, tools, nails and screws, pipes and fittings - almost anything you could think of. There are missing knobs inside, a problem with the front end, and other signs of neglect.
He told me that he wanted to have something - anything that he could be proud of. He said he wanted a nice truck with his name on the side. He wanted a successful business. He said he felt like a loser.
He had essentially been homeless for the last couple years. Amy had Greg removed from the house by the police after what Greg described as a display of anger. Do I believe that? Probably not. I asked the kids if their dad ever hit them or was physically abusive in any way with their mother. I couldn't imagine he was, but I needed to know. They said that he was not - ever, but he had a terrible temper and the day he was removed from the house, he had broken the television (among other things).
He came to live with me, but left several times - packed up and moved out - after making paranoid accusations about hearing Richard and me talking in his phone - accusing Michael of changing the password on his computer. He would be tearful - hurt that I would do that to him. I promised him that I did not do any of the things he accused me of. I was his mother. I wouldn't. I couldn't. I could see the pain in his face and there wasn't a thing I could do to make it go away.
After he left, I sobbed - worried and broken-hearted. This scenario repeated itself several times. A few days later, he'd be back, moving in again. He never apologized - never admitted he was wrong. He just... moved back in - until the next time. The first clue I had that he had a drug problem, was when he lived with me. Before that, he covered well, and the people who knew - didn't tell.
I told him every chance I got that all he had to do to have it all back, was to get help. Why couldn't he get help? Addiction keeps the possible just out of reach.
In between the times he lived at home and when he lived with me, he also rented a room from a man with a "less-than-spectacular" reputation, but he didn't feel he could afford an apartment and contribute to his family. True? Again, who knows. I know that he hated that room and spent as little time as possible there (more about that another day). His life was in his truck. He lived out of his truck, when he wasn't sleeping in it.
Anyway, he bought a big maroon truck (I should know the make. I don't). The truck was used, but it was loud - looked good and he loved it.
A couple months ago, he formed an LLC and started his business. He had magnetic signs made and put them on the side of his truck. He wanted his family back.
He was hopeful. So was I.
Scott is trying to get rid of Greg's truck for Amy, but he said it's a disaster. The cab of the truck was filled from the floor to the roof in the back and in the front - leaving only a very small place for Greg to sit. There were clothes, tools, nails and screws, pipes and fittings - almost anything you could think of. There are missing knobs inside, a problem with the front end, and other signs of neglect.
He told me that he wanted to have something - anything that he could be proud of. He said he wanted a nice truck with his name on the side. He wanted a successful business. He said he felt like a loser.
He had essentially been homeless for the last couple years. Amy had Greg removed from the house by the police after what Greg described as a display of anger. Do I believe that? Probably not. I asked the kids if their dad ever hit them or was physically abusive in any way with their mother. I couldn't imagine he was, but I needed to know. They said that he was not - ever, but he had a terrible temper and the day he was removed from the house, he had broken the television (among other things).
He came to live with me, but left several times - packed up and moved out - after making paranoid accusations about hearing Richard and me talking in his phone - accusing Michael of changing the password on his computer. He would be tearful - hurt that I would do that to him. I promised him that I did not do any of the things he accused me of. I was his mother. I wouldn't. I couldn't. I could see the pain in his face and there wasn't a thing I could do to make it go away.
After he left, I sobbed - worried and broken-hearted. This scenario repeated itself several times. A few days later, he'd be back, moving in again. He never apologized - never admitted he was wrong. He just... moved back in - until the next time. The first clue I had that he had a drug problem, was when he lived with me. Before that, he covered well, and the people who knew - didn't tell.
I told him every chance I got that all he had to do to have it all back, was to get help. Why couldn't he get help? Addiction keeps the possible just out of reach.
In between the times he lived at home and when he lived with me, he also rented a room from a man with a "less-than-spectacular" reputation, but he didn't feel he could afford an apartment and contribute to his family. True? Again, who knows. I know that he hated that room and spent as little time as possible there (more about that another day). His life was in his truck. He lived out of his truck, when he wasn't sleeping in it.
Anyway, he bought a big maroon truck (I should know the make. I don't). The truck was used, but it was loud - looked good and he loved it.
A couple months ago, he formed an LLC and started his business. He had magnetic signs made and put them on the side of his truck. He wanted his family back.
He was hopeful. So was I.
No comments:
Post a Comment