Outside of my personal life, this week has been especially trying at work. I work for a lovely company and wonderful people. However, I have been an “assistant” for my whole working career. I am good at it.
Getting pregnant young and not going to college has put me in this place. I need to go to school. I am not sure how I am going to make this happen – time and money. But, I NEED TO!
I cannot continue to be someone’s assistant for the rest of my career. I have to fulfill my potential.
I was able to get in touch with #1 via a girlfriend of his. Asked him to come home for a meeting. We had a phone call with his dad on speaker. It didn’t go well. The conversation was frustrating on so many levels: 1. My son seems to be out of touch with reality (normal teenager stuff? – IDK). 2. His dad talks a big game, but isn’t able/willing to really do anything to help Tyler out. 3. My son blames me for most of the issues in his life (trying not to take it personally – I think I hated my mom at that age too).
After stalling for an hour or so, ranting about some “stolen” property he was sure his brothers and I took, my #1 donned his back-pack and stepped off the front porch. Back to homelessness.
An hour later, he knocked quietly on the door. Shivering and teary, he asked if he could come home. I guess homelessness and “freedom” isn’t as cool as he thought. A small victory – I guess. I don’t kid myself. I doubt this is our last bout with running away or violence.
Two more years… I can do this. Thank you Father for grace.
Last week was a blur. My #1 son became increasingly violent and angry. Pinnacle was an evening in the kitchen with him. He arrived home from “school” at 9:30 and wanted to eat dinner. I informed him that dinner was over and he needed to get to his room. He called me a name, shoulder checked me into the wall and then proceeded to scream at me. I grabbed ahold of him to get him under control and to lower his voice (his brothers were upstairs) and he picked me up and threw me against a corner wall.
As I knelt on my hands and knees trying to regain my breath and fighting tears from the pain spreading across my back and hip. I thought – OK, it doesn’t get better from here. From experience with his father, I know that once it becomes violent it only escalates. I rose to my feet and walked to the front door, opened it and told him he couldn’t stay here any more.
Maybe I overreacted about the dinner – should I have let him eat his dinner and get to bed without a word from me? Probably. The violence turns my stomach because I feel like we (his dad and I) taught him that. We gave him the gift of violence as a child while he watched us fight. I am not proud of this.
He knocked on my bedroom window at 1:30am shivering and asking to come in to sleep. I called his dad to strategize while he stood on the back porch in the rain. Ultimately, I let him in, told him he must stay in his room until I took him to school in the morning. I brought him to school, he walked in the front door and right out the back.
So, today is Monday. I haven’t seen my oldest son since Friday night. I called and reported him as a runaway. I feel guilty for being relieved at his absence. As the days go by – I grow more and more worried. I can only hope that he is uncomfortable enough to come home and try to be a part of this family.
Help me Father.
just a mom today 