Well, well, well

 It's been too long since I've had a deeply emotional post about J. But we got the call a few weeks ago. He'd been evicted, police were coming to kick him out, he was feeling depressed. He needed to make a change. 

I said "Would it kill you to come here?" 

He said "I don't know."

The next day, he was here. I set up the air mattress in the loft. I thought about getting bunk beds, moving the girls so he could have his own space--but we decided this was temporary. He didn't want to be here long. A week or two, max.

That was three weeks ago. He got a job on Day 2. With some coaxing, he started on a GED. Then things stalled. Yes, he goes to work. Yes, he does his schoolwork. But then he goes out to the bars all night. He spends hours in his car, watching movies and shows and numbing himself.

The problem is I have an idea of healthy, happy, stable. He has an idea of survival. He's not willing to move toward happy. That's too far out of reach. 

So we fought. Just now. I begged him to cut off the distractions and the things weighing him down. He said the only way to do that is to cut off everything.

"The people who love you and want the best for you?"

"The expectations of doing more, of worrying about what you think of me, what the girls think of me. If I do that, I'm leaving here tonight."

"Then do it."

"OK."

And he packed up his bags and left. Because I want him to stop masking his problems and actually deal with things. I want him to stop surviving and actually live. And he won't. And I can't make him. And it sucks.