Well, That was Awful...
It is done. He is graduated. And with that, our relationship ended. His treatment of everyone yesterday, most especially me, was abhorrent. There really is no other way to describe it. So I have to be done. I cannot go on this way with him any more. It is killing me and perhaps him too. I am not sure why all his venom and rage appears to be reserved for me. Perhaps because he has the misguided notion that I will not leave him. I will always be there to take the abuse. Well, that change for me yesterday. I have stayed in relationship with him for all this time because I believed I could change the narrative. I could reframe, reconfigure, reconstruct it. But I saw yesterday that I have never been bestowed that power. And all my attempts, futile. Only placing me repeatedly in place for there to be more abuse.
If any other person in my life treated me as horribly as he has and does, I would not speak to them. I would leave. I would disengage. But because he is my son, I have allowed, permitted, acquiesced, forgiven and made allowances for conduct that is not only abusive, it is sometimes criminal.
I have been searching and searching for my part. What have I done that is so awful to warrant this type of treatment. And sure, there are things. Situational things I could have handled better. Things along the way of his childhood that I could have done better. But I have done the analysis and I can say with confidence that I am no worse than any other parent I know. I have lost my cool, I have been unflinching perhaps when I should have not taken such a hard stand. I have given in all too frequently in order to keep the peace. I have my part that is clear. But what I saw last night is that my part is now weaponized. It is my part he beats me with almost quite literally. He actually did hit me the other day. It was on the leg and not hard but he did actually strike me in anger. And I guess my part in this whole fucking shitshow, warehouse fire really, ended last night.
I am sad, despondent, guilt ridden but I am indeed, finally, blessedly done. I will no longer speak to him, or engage. I will not speak to him again until he has maintained a year of sobriety. I can’t. It is too hard and my own mental health is suffering because of this ongoing horribleness with him. I cannot save him. I have tried. I have begged. I have paid for. I have sent him to places, all the places I could afford and some that I couldn’t, all in an effort to save him from himself. And I have put myself in the line of fire daily until I am wounded and barely hanging on because of all the strife and struggle.
Make no mistake, I want to save him. I love him. But I am going to have to love him from a safe distance. He can no longer be in my life. Because him in my life means I am destroyed in the process. I guess this is just another lesson that the only one, to include our children, we can save is ourselves.
I fucking hate this lesson. It feels like my heart has been ripped from my chest and I am standing there bleeding all over the fucking place. But I never die. I just keep on pumping endless amounts of blood onto the floor which makes an awful mess but never resolves. There is no resolution only a great number of broken promises and lies from a kid who is unwell.
So against every mothering instinct I have, I am done. I am saving me. And I will wish every day of my life from here on out that he is safe, he is well, he is sober, he is sane. I never wanted it to be like this. It was so painful to sit there last night with all the other families whose children suffered hardship, whose families suffered hardship, to see them all happy, cheering each other on. Whatever got them there, able to be put aside for a moment so they could join together to celebrate life affirmed. That hard work pays off. That sometimes you can heal. Some times you can beat the odds. I sat there in the crowd intermittently crying, feeling so uncomfortable, so uneasy, waiting for the other shoe to fall...unable to rejoice. I am proud of him for getting it done. But all those good feelings that seemed to be there for all the other families, were absent for me. I sat there numb.
I left feeling dejected, defeated and depressed. And those feelings appear to be staying for awhile. And I guess, that will just have to be ok. I am not ok. This whole ordeal is not ok. This is not how life should go but it is and I clearly see that now and accept it. Sometimes the only thing left to do is to walk away, loving still, but removing yourself from the hate zone. So that is what I must do.
Pray for him. He is going to need it now more than ever.
Please pray for me too...I, too, need it now more than ever.