Saturday, April 25, 2009

Second Son

I have a son that won't talk. I mean, he talks, but not about anything but surface stuff. He has few opinions, few friends, and only goes to school and work. Occasionally, he'll meet up with a guy he used to work with and have a beer, but that's it.

I know it's his personality to be quiet, an introvert. I understand that. I've seen him angry, but never standing up for himself. However, thinking back, I can only think of one time that he actually broke down and said what was on his mind.

It was Christmas time, and all three kids were here visiting. First son, whom we've had struggles with, was sharing that he felt worthless, ashamed of the trouble he's put us through. The whole family, except second son, was trying to tell him how much we loved him and believed that he could pull himself together to lead a good and rewarding life. There were tears, and love, and hope that it was a sign of new beginnings.

At the end of the evening, first son, daughter, and Hubby drove Grammie home. While they were gone, second son broke down. "Why is it always about him?" "He's screwed up so many times, and still everyone falls all over him." "What about me?"

Isn't that the way it happens all too often. Even inappropriate behavior gets the attention, good or bad, and the kid that is doing what he's supposed to be doing gets so much less attention because everyone is so wrung out after dealing with the kid causing so much trouble.

All I could do is tell him how sorry I am, and try to explain to him how much I love him, and he's right, it is not fair. It was the first time since he's been an adult that he's let me hold him.

We've spent quite a bit of time in therapy as a family. We should have had this all figured out years ago. There seems to be so much anger. Does it go back to divorce? Maybe. Probably? I'm still not sure. Nobody's talking. It's the elephant in the room.

I can't get either son to open up and talk about it. So here's what I'm thinking. After spending time writing on One Minute Writer and Pictures, Poetry, and Prose, I see how a picture can pull words out of me that I didn't know were in there. I thought I would try to get all three kids to join me in our own storytelling. I don't know that any of them will want to take any great amount of time doing it, but maybe the one minute aspect will open them up to it. Wish me luck!

Saturday, February 7, 2009

The Whys

I created this blog because it seemed like a good way for me to vent some of my fears, reactions, and the craziness of it all. I just needed a place to talk about it, in my own words, without regard for other people’s opinion or judgment. There's still a lot of anger around this situation. I understand it; you have your reasons. That being said, I am the mother, and I am as pained by the situation as I’m angered and frustrated by it. Granted, everyone has a right to voice their opinion, but realize that when you lash out and speak ill of one of my kids, it hurts me. Knowing that, I would ask that you choose your words carefully if we are to ever truly get past this.
On this blog, I had originally planned on relating incidents that have happened and then talk about what I learned from the experiences, but it's a work in progress. I'm still trying to get some kind of understanding about the hows and whys of life during the last 10 years. I have few answers. Slow learner??? Ha! Maybe. But more likely we tiptoe around the subject because it stirs this hornet’s nest. I guess the one thing I've learned for sure is that I have no control over anyone else. They have to come to their understanding in their own time and place. All I can do is be a support without being an enabler.
If others have found this blog, please feel free to talk about your experiences, your worries, as well as your hopes and what you may have learned. I hope it helps to know you're not the only one going through it.

Monday, January 19, 2009

Purge, baby, purge!

There are days when I can't get comfortable. It's like a ghost pain that doesn't really hurt, per se, but I can feel it all the same. In my gut. Nothing specific, except that I don't feel like I belong in my skin. The thought occurs to me that I could throw up. Not because I feel sick but like something is stuck in my craw. Oh, now there's a thought that brought tears to my eyes. What is that about? Purging? I need to purge???

Sometimes I feel wild-eyed behind the passive personna that everyone knows me by. I'm stuck in the middle of what I need to do and what I want to do. How many of us can say that? Bizillions, I'm sure. Can we talk about it? No.

Wednesday, January 14, 2009


I didn't know what to do. I was so scared for my son. A heart breaker for sure.
"He's out of control! You've got to do something or I'm not sure what I'm gonna do."
Now I agreed with him. He was out of control; running away for days at a time (in the middle of winter, no less). Smoking dope, and drinking to the point of alcohol poisoning. The only reason he is probably here today is because his friends stayed next to him on that beach that night to make sure he didn't choke on his own vomit. He was unconscious.
I had spoken to the two men that were coming to get him in the middle of the night. It was all set. His dad and I somehow got him to stay at his dad's house that night. I went to bed scared, unsure of what we were all doing but even more unsure of what would happen if we did nothing.

The phone rang around 11:00 p.m. The men were 45 miles away at the airport trying to rent a car but had forgotten their credit card. Almost out of my mind as it was, we got dressed and drove to the airport to rent the car for them, and then guided them over the mountain to their motel.

Several hours later the phone rang again. "We're ready."

Ron and I scrambled into our clothes and met the men outside of my ex's house. "We'll let you go in first and talk to your son. We'll be right behind you."

I was shaking. This was so hard to do already and I wanted to just talk to my boy. That wasn't who I saw laying there. This was someone that was quickly moving toward a life that would get him nowhere. When I walked in to his room I was shocked to realize that he had shaved his head.

When he woke up I saw the little boy that was confused. What's going on? I tried to explain how much I loved him and how scared we were for him. He was smoking dope all day and night, had left school, had stolen from us, and had taken the truck even though he had no license, no insurance, had destroyed property, and had been involved with the law on numerous occassions. We're trying to help you. I know you don't understand. You're going to Aspen Ranch where they're going to help get your life turned back around. I love you!

At that point we went out to the car and parked down the hill. I heard later that although he walked out to the car, once there, he was throwing punches; a few of them connected. When they drove by I was just sick. I could throw up now just thinking about it. He turned around in the back seat and flipped me off.