"BAD WORDS...VERY, VERY BAD WORDS" (update_

He is back.

The monster never showed. Evan spent the night trying to sleep in a chair.

He saw his mother, "She gets out in 83 days."

How does he feel? Well he's tired, but he shrugs. He feels fine. The visit was fine. It was about what he expected. No big deal.

Oh...[insert bad word here]

He's shut down, closed off, no feelings, tough guy, untouchable.

There is no good there.

VERY BAD WORD


UPDATE:

He did not stay holed up in his room as I was afraid he might. Instead he came back out, talked, helped with dinner. He keeps reassuring me that he is okay, just tired.

There is no way that I can believe that this weekend could be anything other than emotionally draining, but it is okay if is not ready to talk about it or does not want to talk to me.

It better be, because I have no control over how he deals.

I have to fight that mother response...rush in. "Tell me what's wrong, dear." It doesn't work with any of the kids...birth or bios. They need to know that you are there; not so caught up in your own life that you fail to notice or don't have time for them. On the other hand they need to have their privacy respected.

I know all this, but it isn't easy.