I've been waiting for the door since about 5 this evening. My daughter and I got back from the library, she was upset when dad wasn't here so she could show him the book she picked out just for him. The rage monster showed its ugly head because I knew where he was, he probably skipped out just minutes after we left. My heart pounded every time I heard a sound. I hate living with anxiety and adrenaline. It's now 11 and there was just a pounding on the door. I know I hadn't locked it but I ran downstairs, if only to keep him from making too much noises but it wasn't him, it was another friendly neighbourhood police officer. Ffs... Ah is not in the back of the cruiser or on his way to jail, he apparently fell and hit his head. He'd been "doing some drinking." "Are you going to go over?" "Are you going to be coming by?" That was the question from the emergency rooM nurse when I called over to let them know he'd also taken lorazepam that he stole from his mother earlier in the day. No, I'm not going over. My mother in law is the only one in the house who drives and she took a pill to sleep, because she hasn't for weeks thanks to the stress he's been causing us all. I'm not leaving my 3 year old to by his side. I don't know if I care if the staff think I'm callous, but frankly he's been there so many times in the past few months they should give him his own room. Part of me blames the system for not allocating more services to people who are obviously begging for help - but there are so many people who need help and so few to help them. A huge chunk of me blames him. I'm having a hard time remembering that the drinking is a "pain killer" to dampen the real problem, but I am not the most empathetic person and I look at his method of pain relief as cowardly. I don't want to be the one who has to turn my life any more upside down for this man (child) who doesn't want the responsibilities he demanded. I'm digging in my own heels and being stubborn, I should just pack my shot and go but then I think he has a mental illness. If he was autistic I wouldn't leave, if he had cancer... I have lost that loving feeling. I don't want to be supportive anymore. The police know our family now. They know us to see us. I'm not embarrassed, but this is not the reputation I want my kiddo to grow up with. I can't even say let's sell the house and split the money because it's not in my name and as common law partners I don't have stake. I don't trust that he would be fair either, because he is a liar. I guess right now I'm trying to mentally prepare myself to have to start over from scratch... sometimes I feel so strong. And then others, I feel the weight of my weaknesses :(