The author and her husbandBefore my husband, Daniel, and I climb out of our car parked in front of our friend’s Baltimore home, I ask him how he wants to answer the question that we both know is coming.
“I’m not going to lie,” he tells me. “We don’t have to go into every detail of James’ latest episode. Let’s just say he’s struggling. He is 29 years old and struggling to find himself.”
“In the woods, at a therapeutic living community, in Brookline, Vermont,” I add from the passenger seat, just to complete the picture.
“Sure, if you want to tell them that. They’re not going to ask for more details. They’ll probably ask to pour you another drink at that point.”
Kevin and Eliza are friends of ours, but we have not known them for long.
“So, how are the kids?” Kevin asks, emphasis on the word kids. “Bring me up to date.”
There, he said it.
Parents of children who suffer from ...
English (US)