I Prayed for a Miracle, Now I Lock My Door Against My Son

eyes.

“We keep him for observation for a short period,” he said. “We adjust medication. We send you home with resources and a safety plan.”

“A safety plan,” I repeated, and something inside me cracked into bitter laughter. “Like a list? Like a pamphlet?”

His cheeks reddened. “I’m sorry.”

There it was again.

I’m sorry.

It didn’t fix anything. But it was the continue reading …