The Boy -- Next Steps

I am mildly freaking out.

We talked to the Boy's school and they want to start talking about next steps for the Boy: what happens when he finishes his round of therapy where he is now. This will likely end in August of 2020 and he still will have a year of high school to finish.

I am strongly guessing they are going to recommend him staying in Montana for an extra year until he finishes high school. His school has a step down, transition program where the kids live in town in a house with a few other kids who graduated from the boarding school. The kids can either go to community college in town, or the local high school. When the kids are "home," they will be in a therapeutically supported, supervised and sober environment where all of the kids have to take care of themselves and each other, like make meals, clean and do laundry. Like adults.

Until now, I was in mild denial about what was going to happen next. I hadn't really thought about it. The reality is that the Boy likely can't come back to Seattle for numerous reasons.

1. He can't go back to his local, pressure-cooker, public high school and have everyone ask "Dude--where ya been?" No. And senior year everyone will be trying to get into Yale, Stanford or Caltech. He will happily be going to Montana State or UBC where he can ski and mountain bike.
2. He could do Running Start where he could finish high school with community college credit. Claire-Adele's high school boyfriend, Tommy, did that. There is no community for these kids who do Running Start, as far as I can tell. Tommy was an outgoing and gregarious guy, and even he was adrift. I can't bring the Boy back to a place where he will have no community.
3. He could attend a private school, if we could get him in. I don't know how many private high schools will have space for a new senior. He would have to break into a new social structure that has been in place for three (or more) years. That will be rough. Plus, private schools => rich kids = > weed, alcohol and other substances. Nope.
4. Speaking of weed and alcohol, I don't want to be the prison warden and police for the Boy, doing urine tests and the like. Not fun for anyone.
5. Homework. I've been the nag bag for homework for a few years before the Boy landed in therapy. I don't want to take a trip on that train again.

This transition program will likely be the best place for him, unless we can find a different boarding school. This transition program, though, will be the easiest transition socially and academically. Plus there is epic skiing in the region. He will close to large mountains.

All of that is my brain talking. 

My heart is saying "I want him home."

I want to be there when he applies to college. I want to go to his soccer games and orchestra concerts. I want to take pictures for prom and help him get ready for graduation. I want to have him home for dinner. I want to hear about the books he is reading for English, and hear his thoughts on history and politics. I wonder if he'll start a rocket club or participate in a First Robotics program.

Claire-Adele's senior year was full of drama. Lots and lots of drama, which is fine. It supposed to be that way. Kids soil the nest before they launch.

I want that for the Boy. I want him to come back and live at home before he launches. He might not come back and live at home, which means I am done being a mom and I am not ready for that.

"You will be a parent until you die, Lauren," said my hairdresser today. 

He has a point, but I still want the Boy home.

But then my heart comes back again: I want him better, healthy and healed more than I want him home. I don't want him to come home not fully healed, and slide back into his old and easy habits. I don't want him to come home until he is fully baked. My heart knows this, too. My friend Ellen's daughter was away for the last three years of high school and now she is thriving. She is confident and cheerful and is working her butt off at college. Most importantly, she appears to be profoundly grateful for where she is at. That is really what I want for the Boy.

"You will be fine with this when you attend his wedding," said my hairdresser.

"In twenty years, you will be glad you did this," said my friend Leslie.

I hope so. In the meantime, my heart is breaking, but I'd rather have short-term heartbreak than long-term.