I've been busy - out of town 3 days for family stuff, 4 days for work stuff. I'm tired. Depleted. Run down. And beyond all else exhausted. I know better, and yet ... I have no excuses.
While I was away The Oldest was texting me. Hey mom - you home yet? When will you be home. My heart sinks ... I love him. Love that he wants to talk to me. And my heart sinks every time. It's never good news. Never 'just' catching up.
When we finally met today, he was clearly having a bad day. Withdrawn, quiet, pale and shakey. We took care of some business, but I know better than to ask what's up in public. And then we got in the car, and he got quieter, paler, shakier. He opened up a bit. Just a bit.
I don't know what's really going on. I only know he's hurting. And that he asked for my help, and I caved. I had promised myself, my parents, the addictions counselor, My Man that I wouldn't give him money again.
I know the story he told me is probably only minimally true. And that the money went to calm his nerves. I know I won't hear from him again until something else goes wrong ... until the money is gone and the drugs along with it.
But still. After dinner we went to the bank. And I gave him money I can ill-afford. One of these days I really will say no and mean it. Today my excuse is that I was already so very very tired. Today I was weak. I don't blame him. I blame me.