Have you ever needed help for whatever reason and you told your friend about your problem and they said, “Hey! I have a number you can call”? It can be anything really; car trouble, marriage trouble, college, whatever; someone always has an answer. Someone out there has experienced what you’re going through and has some advice. So you take that number and you call them and they have answers! They give you some advice or schedule you for an appointment and finally, your problem is solved all because you asked for advice and someone pointed you in the right direction. It’s called ADVOCATING for yourself and it’s a learned skill; not everyone can do it. Unless you can’t advocate for yourself, in which someone does it for you.
That’s called parenting.
As a parent we kick and scream and fight with our fists held high until someone can help us. When we have a problem with one of our bear cubs, we fight. We don’t stop until the problem has a solution we can live with.
In the little scenario stated above, the problem was solved with a phone call because someone pointed you in the right direction. But, what happens when the phone call leads to a dead end? Or maybe it leads to another phone call which then leads to a dead end? While, I have had that happen before, I have never had it happen over and over again with no actual solution.
I have found something on this great earth that no resource out there can solve: what happens when your adopted child runs off and would rather live in a homeless shelter? What happens when your adopted child makes the people in the home extremely uncomfortable and unsafe because of their actions?
One response: “Well, I would think that the family would come together and figure something out.”
Another response: “You know that when you adopt, your child is now your OWN child, like one you have birthed?”
Yet another response: “The place you are looking for, for your son, doesn’t exist.”
At one point during one of the mentioned conversations, I choked up and said, “I can’t talk anymore.” They defended themselves and I kindly said, “your words have hurt my heart,” and I hung up. (Cheesy I know, I work with kids.)
Defeat.
Over and over again.
Defeat.
I know your minds are reeling with resources and places. Mine too! But here’s where I’ve contacted in one form or another:
- Boys Ranch in TX
- Boys ranch in MO
- Crittenton
- The ER
- Children’s Division
- Whetstone Boys Home
- Stepping Stones
- Ozanam Pathways Transitional Living
- Job Corps (2 month process)
- Hillcrest Transitional Housing
- Holland Home
- Restart
- Synergy
- Great Circle
- Valley Springs Youth Ranch
- The police
That’s it. Just those places (insert sarcasm here). IF I have heard back from them, it’s a NO because of his behaviors.
So you’re telling me that a child that is defiant, hates authority, obsessed with sex, and steals has no help?
YEP and here’s what I’ve been told is why:
- Some of his behaviors happened years ago, sounds like you’ve gotten them resolved.
- Who is to say he will do them again?
- He hasn’t committed a crime.
Yet.
Our system kicks in WHEN a crime has been committed. Not before to PREVENT it from happening.
I have never in my life felt more defeated than I do right now. My loved ones come to ME for advice and help because I will find the resource, I will make the phone call, I will make sure they find the answer they are seeking. But I think I have found the one thing no one, not even I can figure out. That list above? That doesn’t count the countless people in the field, I have talked to. That list above doubles when you configure that in. I have poured into finding my son a place to live so he won’t be homeless, the same amount of energy needed to finish a semester long final in 24 hours.
It’s exhausting.
At least with a final project you knew the end was in sight and your life would go back to normal at some point.
Not with this.
I left momentarily today to seek refuge in my car and pick up my great-nephew from school, and my son decided to tell my family his plans. He stated that I am “holding him back from his plans to run away and start a new life. He just needs his birth certificate and social security card and he’d be set.”
I’ll let that sink in for a moment.
What?
Where are the moms that their sons left at 16? How are you doing? What was this like for you? How did you feel? What is your relationship with them now? Because we need a support group!
You know the feeling after someone you hold dear to you dies? That heavy feeling that first starts out as constant tears. Just constant streams of tears that won’t seem to stop no matter what you do. No amount of hugs or conversation can make them stop. Then it’s followed by quiet. It’s just silent for a while. Everyone comes over to console one another, but there’s this hush and quiet over the room. Could be from fatigue if it was a long illness or it’s a hush of shock if it was a sudden accident. Either way, there’s silence. And then after awhile someone brings out the whiskey, or wine, or whatever you fancy, and people start telling stories and laughing; they start making jokes about things that were once so hurtful but now don’t even matter.
That’s exactly what I’ve been enduring. Each one of those steps have happened.
Bereavement. I’m entering the stages of grief.
For a runaway child who doesn’t see that the maternal love he’s wanted all his life, is right there in front of him.
true life hot mess mom 
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