Man, what a shitty thing. After school every day I sit with both kids to do homework together. That way, I’m sure that the homework gets done and is understood. When I got home yesterday I went to get the kids for homework time. My son was sleeping in his bed, so I woke him up and told him to come upstairs.
When he made it upstairs he could barely stand up, was obviously on something. He’d forgotten his books, so he headed back downstairs. My wife got home at the same time, saw the concern on my face and the state of our son, and we both followed him downstairs.
We asked him what he had taken and how much. He said he took nothing, that he was fine, just a little tired, etc. He was obviously not fine. Labored breathing, pupils like pinpoints, obvious inability to track both visually and audially, though having moments of lucidity.
Then things get weird. He completely snapped. He shoved my wife and took a swing at her, then started coming after me, raving that he would kill me. I’m bigger than he is, and have been in a lot more fights, and have dealt with violent inmates at a correctional facility, so I basically deflected him and put him on the ground and held him there.
For obvious reasons, my wife was in freak out mode. She tried to calm us both down, which was probably a good thing, and when my son relaxed I let go of him and stood up. He was quiet for a few minutes, still claiming that he didn’t take anything, and then exploded again. I grabbed him and told my wife to call 911. We struggled for a second until I got him down again and in a position where he couldn’t hurt himself or me, though he tried both.
While my wife was upstairs, my son began swimming in and out of lucid moments and I discovered the following things:
He had tried to kill himslef the night before, but didn’t take enough of the drug to do it.
The drug he took was mine, butabital, which I am prescribed for severe migraine headaches, and was selected because he thought that if he took my medicine and died I would go to jail.
He was planning to kill me. Not in a general way, but yesterday. The plan was to ask me to look at a problem on his computer and attempt to cut my throat or stab me in the back. He had a hunting knife in his room, set on the edge of his desk, where he stands if I have to work on his computer. The hunting knife is usually stored with our camping gear, so he obviously retreived it at some point and took it to his room.
Neither my wife nor I have any idea where this comes from. He’s been fine for a couple of months. In fact, I’d say he was acting more normally than he has in months. The only catalyst we can determine is a light restriction placed on his computer time Sunday because of flagging grades.
What I can’t understand is the plan to kill me. I don’t know where this hatred comes from. I’m not his biological father, his bio-dad was an abusive fucknugget. I’ve been his step father for four years, and we adjusted better than average when I married his mom. I don’t remember things going so smoothly when my mom remarried and I had a new step dad.
I’m in total shock, and mainly writing this down because I don’t know what else to do. I’m planning on a shrink visit for myself as soon as the assholes at the insurance company approve my right to visit one.
In the meantime, I’ve got some pretty serious anger floating around inside of me. And hurt. Lots of confusion. Mainly anger though. Lots and lots. At me, my son, my wife. I know it’s not rational, that it’s a reaction to the situation and the shock of what happened. Some of it is justified, obviously, but not all.
Still, how in the fuck can I possibly come to terms with this kind of thing?
