For the last four years I have fought a different battle. I have had a stranger in my home. My son came to my new home in Florida as a different person than I left behind in New York. I saw vague vestiges of the boy I’ve lived my life for, but the boy had changed. He looked different, he talked differently, he treated me differently. It almost felt like my son was punishing me for trying to create a better life for us. The relationship has devolved in this time. I don’t see my son anymore. I see some stranger who curses at me, disrespects me, is disobedient and irresponsible in his duties and requirements. I live my life with daily stresses related to this boy who thinks he is a man. He has adamantly refused to be a part of this team. He has blatantly disobeyed the rules of this house. He does not recognize my efforts to keep this family afloat and successful, and he incessantly fights everything I say.
Just last week one of our daily fights with him resulted in my feeling my throat closing up on me. I have been run down; I feel my heart beating in my ears. The boy is pushing me to an early grave. I am forty-something years young and refuse to go down that easily. It is very obvious the boy is not happy here, and holds some deep seated resentment of me and spends his life trying to punish me. What his ultimate goal is I don’t know but his attitude and antics will no longer be tolerated. He’s going back to New York.
This heartbreaking decision didn’t come easy. I’ve tried talking, explaining, punishing, reasoning and the results do not change. This boy is every bit abstinent and under the impression that he makes his own decisions, and is an adult. I work too hard trying to keep this family and household running to have another daily job of fighting this boy. I’m always wrong, I’m a bitch, I do nothing for him, and I’m not worthy of his respect. If that is how he feels about me and treats me then he needs to no longer be around me.
This goes beyond teenage angst. I’m making this move to send him back to New York for both our health and safety because it is on the verge of getting physical. He’s gotten in my face, he’s come up and pushed his chest in my face, he stands in my room yelling at the top of his lungs, he’s raised his hands then backed down. I know I can be a volatile personality and I see that in him too, and when we get going it’s a powder keg ready to explode. We need to separate from each other for our sanity and our health and before something happens that permanently destroys this relationship.
I love my boy, even though he has become this monster in my home. I know deep down he is a good boy and somewhere in that yelling, screaming, cursing, disrespectful, disobedient, irresponsible monster is my beautiful, loving son (probably sleeping and oblivious to the world). I wait anxiously for the day when that sleeping boy wakes up.
Until then it’s self-preservation; it’s preservation of what our relationship could still be. I’m not wiping my hands of him, I’m taking a half-step back before things go really bad.
My hope is that in our separation the boy will realize what I have done for him, how rules have purpose in all our lives. My hope is that he will recognize that respect is necessary in any relationship. My hope is that he will realize that I push him to be responsible and I push him to get an education and I push him to be the best man he can be because I know he is capable of it but it requires work not sitting back and expecting the world to do it for him.
All I can do now is pray for the man I wish him to become.