Therapy

I flew back to the Ville today from FL.  The Son had a counseling visit scheduled and we went to the visit without incident.

Non-productive is the best I can say for it.  The Son feels forced to go, doesn't participate and quite frankly, still doesn't feel anything is his fault.  I am still a person who doesn't care and his opinion doesn't matter, etc. so on and so forth.

Apparently while the counselor was asking me questions and I respond, something really just ticked him off.  He asked to leave.  He was of course allowed.  After he left I reported we basically tip toe around each other.  I am cursed every time my opinion and thoughts do not mesh with his and basically, controlling him at this juncture is a waste of energy because I can't.  The counselor agreed that the best thing I can do for the remaining few months is to just give him a wide berth.  He also agreed if a person does not seek to improve, therapy really is a waste of time.  HMPH!

What this all boils down to is we all know how the Son is but as the Son doesn't want to work on himself, there is nothing anyone can really do.  At least until he is 18 and I can have him leave the house for the disrespect.  Regardless of how I'm treated, unless I go to court and have him ruled uncontrollable, this is where we are.  I told the counselor there is only so much Lexapro and Klonapin a person can take and the Son is wearing me mighty thin.  I really don't know how much longer this can continue.  He really needs to live with his dad but I know exactly how that will go.  It won't.  So...  Here I am, still counting down the days until he is 18.  I think I have 289 more days.  Give or take a day.  Lord give me strength...