Though this is an autism blog, I also blog about other stuff going on in my life, and though I can’t go into specific detail, I want to describe to you the sound of handcuffs and shackles on your child. This is my only typically developing son. He has made some poor choices and has thus far refused to change.
I have been attending court… but this weekend court session was not at a courthouse, rather at Sharpes, a real jail, not the juvenile detention center, but real jail. I pulled into the parking lot and my stomach was sick, looking at the fences with barbed wire, my hands began to shake. I walked inside and was told an officer would bring me down to the court room. Each doorway, another sealed door, another reminder of freedom revoked. Upon entering the courtroom, it was freezing..ice cold…it looked different, the judge was behind plexi glass and I was sequestered in another room and was told when they called his name to approach the podium and only speak if I was spoken to. As they called his name, he shuffled as best he could in shackles and cuffs to the podium, I stood to the left of him. I was listening as best I could. All I could hear was the chains. It was heart wrenching and at the same time finally feeling like he was having to be accountable for his actions..dare I say a relief?
The judge gave me an opportunity to speak and I was brutally honest.
This made my son so angry.
Even in shackles and handcuffs he had an aggressive stance toward me.
Then it was over and I was sequestered in the original room and was to wait until I could be taken back upstairs. The corrections officer that took me back upstairs asked me if I was okay…I asked him if he had seen the aggressive stance the kid took toward me, he said he did. He told me it was obvious I needed help. I told him about all of everything I have tried.
Still climbing the rock wall of life… barefoot, covered in baby oil.