My boy is hurting. He's struggling. He's probably scared. He's making a big decision in his life. He's choosing between love in his heart and logic in his head. I wish he would share with me. Something big happened in Sunday. I don't know what. Did he decide to break it off? Did she decide to? Did he go to her house and beg? Did she call him over there to beg? Is she (gulp) pregnant? Do they want to get married? Does he want her to leave her home and come live with him? I have no idea. Well, I have plenty of IDEAS, but I have no knowledge. He looked at me and very firmly said (with enough of a shake to his voice that I knew he was still my boy), "Is is PLEASE ok if I say that I don't want to talk about it???"

Of course it is.

I'm not happy about it. I'm finding it hard not to press. I want to show him the respect he's earned by giving him the space he needs to do this alone, if that's what he wants to do. I just want him to know that no matter what...NO MATTER WHAT...I am here for him. I hope he let's me in on what's happening soon.

Ok, that being said, maybe my loyal readers can see what a difference my pill makes. Because I spent a whole day sobbing and crying, worrying and feeling like the end of the world had come because my boy was hurting. Two days and 300 mg of Zoloft later, I see how petty this problem is compared to most of what's going on out in the real world. I have a dear friend who's son has been in prison for, I think, 5 years. Federal prison. They are counting down the last 100 days now. What this mother must have gone through as her son went in. She loves her son no less than I love mine, not one bit. I can't imagine her fear and pain and angst. Several friends of mine who are my age and younger, now grandmothers. Not one of them feels that the end of the world has come. They may have initially, but not once they had their hands on their grand baby. Some of the people I know have had to put their kids in psych units and drug rehab. How many teens attempt or succeed at suicide? Good Lord, how would I ever handle something like that? A co-worker had an 8 year old daughter just diagnosed with bone cancer. Another has a pre-teenager forever bound to a wheel chair, never to walk or talk or comprehend more than an infant would because of a birth trauma.

And my boy has a broken heart. And for a day mine was broken too, for him. But how lucky I am that this has been my biggest trauma so far with him. How lucky we BOTH are that this is our biggest problem. So the little blue pill helped me put it into some kind of perspective.

I won't stop worrying and saying a prayer for him. That's my job.

Speaking of jobs...

I got the all clear to go back to work this morning without restrictions and so I got involved with 3 physical managements today. DAMMIT! And I got kicked in the stomach twice and the chest once by the same danged girl, and to top it off, my FREAKING FINGERNAIL and it hurts like a sonuvabitch. My hole in the wall remains. No new ones today. But I am grateful for a naproxin. Nigh Night.

(And good night, my eldest...I love you.)

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