What We Deserve

Part 72: Letting Go Is Hard, Holding On is Harder

I hid in my office for a while after our meeting with Iggy.

He's right.

To an extent.

However, I can't help but feel leaving him in the psych ward with other children who have their own baggage is going to change him from being super sweet and polite to...to something worse. He will pick up attitudes. He will learn bad habits.

True.

The habit of wanting to hurt yourself is the worst habit you can form.

But at least if he's home with me, then he will see love and compassion.

Not other children being mean and picking on each other and destroying things when they're angry.

He will lose his balance.

He will fall into that entangled mess of mischief.

Right now Joel is extremely honest and well spoken.

Sure he isn't equipped with how things work out here. He doesn't know the full range of emotions or how certain things work.

But he's sweet and endearing.

Iggy will destroy that whether he believes so or not.

Whether he intends to or not.

"Hey..." Max knocks on my door like the good old days and leans against it with a sad aura about him. "Can we talk?"

Sighing, I nod and he comes in- shutting the door behind him and he slowly approaches me.

"I know you're mad at Ig and I..."

"He's going to destroy our little boy." I begin to blubber, despite wanting to be strong and formidable in this instance.

The hormones are pulling me downward.

"He knows what's best."

"And if this was Zep? Or Luna? Or any of the beans? Would you institutionalize them?" I ask defensively and he sighs before kneeling on the ground beside me and turning me in my chair to face him.

"If it meant they were safe and out of harms way—absolutely. I understand the fear you have- putting him here. However, we have seen how it works for some who don't get this kind of attention and treatment. They're the ones we bury. They're the ones that end up in crack houses or on the streets or...anywhere else undesirable."

"He's ten."

"And we've met ten year olds who have been there." He states. "I'm not saying we should medicate him—yet. But he needs to be here. He needs to experience life in a structured safe environment."

Closing my eyes for a few moments and sighing, I take a moment to compose myself.

"If this was Zep or Lu or the Beans—what would you do? Hmm? Your baby needs help. They're not safe in our home and they are at risk of hurting themselves again. What are you going to do?" As I open my eyes, tears come down my cheeks and I shake them away. "I know you, Baby. You would do everything in your power to keep them safe and to try and make them happy. Even if for a while that meant they weren't with you. No parent wants their child to attempt suicide—so you put them some place safe with people you can trust and you let them fight and figure things out with guidance. Joel needs that. Joel needs you to be okay with this because if he even senses you're against this plan—then it won't do him any good. He won't thrive and be able to come home. And then you'll really lose him."

I know he's right.

I know he is.

It just hurts.

"You want me to tell him?" I sourly say.