We are about one week into the renovation. We are still in the discussion and revision phase. It's not unlike when the Captain and I hired an architect to draw plans for an addition on our old house. We gave him our specifications and he came back with his vision, which was over budget and much more extensive than we had planned. It was as if he hadn't heard us at all.
Two is the architect.
Despite much talk about how we are here to help him achieve what he wants, he's not motivated. He's dismissive and surly about any change at all, because he thinks he can figure it all out on his own.
It's sad, really, because he's adrift but doesn't care enough to embrace the changes.
That's unfair; I think he's disappointed in his grades, and probably depressed. But getting him to open up about what he's feeling is like pulling your foot from a snap trap. It's painful and futile.
But it appears Two would rather gnaw off his own leg than accept our help, mostly because he views it as punishment. I have begun limiting his distractions, and his response has been junkie-worthy. When I ask for his phone, it's like I've ripped the crack pipe out of his hands. When he comes home today and sees I've taken his computer keyboard, I expect righteous indignation.
And yes, I do see the irony in asking him to disconnect from his on-line world, when I spend a fair amount of my day on the Internet. But I've graduated from high school, gone to college, failed out, gone back, graduated with honors, and made a life. I've earned the right to fritter it away.
I wasn't actually expecting any more progress than we've made this early in the game. It's a war of attrition at this point. Or at least a staring contest.
I refuse to blink.