Adult children
Posted: November 19th, 2015, 9:47 am
I parented my child on my own since he was 3 years old, he is now 21. He experienced a febrile seizure when he was 18 months old and it was hours before he woke up after. The longest day of my life. There was no brain damage thank god. I wonder how much that experience changed how I parented him. It definitely changed me. I could never shake the thought that I could lose him in an instant. People have accused me of not being strict enough with him, my spirited boy.
His childhood could not have been easy, his father and I split when he was 3, but he spent weekends etc. with him and they had a good relationship. His father was and is continually in counselling for different mental health diagnosis and really focused on his own health. He talked really openly about it with my son, which was fine, but I think it went too far sometimes. I've had my own issues with anxiety and depression but couldn't really share it with anyone outside of my counsellors, I tried to be stable for my son. I probably failed. So he had 2 messed up parents from the get go.
My son and I were very close and happy until he started 9th grade and started having trouble in school. He had always been very bright and school was easy for him but I couldn't motivate him to do his homework etc. I did a lot of his projects in fact (stupid, but I didn't have time for the constant parent teacher meetings and couldn't handle the phone calls some days). He began skipping school and eventually stopped going altogether in 12th grade. He lost interest in hanging out with his friends and participating in guitar and karate lessons. This behaviour coincided with an excessive amount of multiplayer gaming.
He was diagnosed with ADHD but refused medication which I didn't argue with as I was afraid of the drugs effect on his still developing brain.I found counselling for him and he liked his therapist. In one session we had together with him I broke down, the therapist took me aside after and told me I needed to gain control of my feelings, I tried. It seemed to be helping and I was glad my son had someone to share what he could not share with me. Unfortunately his dad did not see things the same way and stopped paying for his sessions (he had a great job with full medical coverage, I struggled financially, no coverage). I found him a new counsellor I could afford and he seemed to like him but getting him to go to his appointments became as difficult as getting him to go to school. He didn't want to do anything but game eventually. It was like his avatar had taken over. I would try to limit the gaming, hiding the modem etc. and he would become enraged. I was actually afraid of him, he punched holes in walls, physically intimidated me and once pushed his grandmother. I called the police twice because of his meltdowns.
He threatened to kill himself. I took the threat very seriously and the police took him to the hospital. I spent most of the night there with him refusing to take him home until someone made a plan to treat him, he was now 18 and I couldn't force him to do anything but I was trying to get him into the system so he could get the help I couldn't give him. He was crying and asking why I didn't love him. I had told him I loved him everyday of his life. I knew if I took him home nothing would change. I begged his father and other family members to help, to take him in for a while so I could continue to work and get my shit together in order to deal with this. No one would. No one even showed up.
I kicked him out. I helped him with finding a place to live and set him up financially and even got him a job where I worked. It seemed better, not great, but better. He would be late for work likely because he was up late gaming, but the space was good and our relationship improved.
Of course things didn't last and he moved back in, slept all day, gamed all night and eventually I kicked him out again. He went to a shelter. I didn't sleep the whole time he was there. Oddly our relationship improved again. The cycle happened one more time, he came home, left because of the loafing/gaming. Now he doesn't speak to me and tells me I was abusive. The thing is I think I eventually was. I could not speak civilly to him during the last time he was home. I felt like he was sucking the life out of me. I couldn't sleep because he was yelling at his computer late into the night. I was sleep deprived and stressed out. I would ask nicely once, then I would lose it. I had lost control. I felt he didn't care about me or anything but his gaming life. I was angry and couldn't deal with it.
He left and hasn't spoken to me in months. I reach out occasionally but he just sends profane texts and accuses me of being abusive. I'm not sure what to do. It's kind of a relief to not have to deal with him to be honest, but my soul aches for him. I want him to feel I will always love him and that he is never alone. I really would do anything for him, but I can't do anything when he is living in my house. It's so hard. I think of all the mistakes I made as a parent and wish I could go back in time. I wish he was happy.
His childhood could not have been easy, his father and I split when he was 3, but he spent weekends etc. with him and they had a good relationship. His father was and is continually in counselling for different mental health diagnosis and really focused on his own health. He talked really openly about it with my son, which was fine, but I think it went too far sometimes. I've had my own issues with anxiety and depression but couldn't really share it with anyone outside of my counsellors, I tried to be stable for my son. I probably failed. So he had 2 messed up parents from the get go.
My son and I were very close and happy until he started 9th grade and started having trouble in school. He had always been very bright and school was easy for him but I couldn't motivate him to do his homework etc. I did a lot of his projects in fact (stupid, but I didn't have time for the constant parent teacher meetings and couldn't handle the phone calls some days). He began skipping school and eventually stopped going altogether in 12th grade. He lost interest in hanging out with his friends and participating in guitar and karate lessons. This behaviour coincided with an excessive amount of multiplayer gaming.
He was diagnosed with ADHD but refused medication which I didn't argue with as I was afraid of the drugs effect on his still developing brain.I found counselling for him and he liked his therapist. In one session we had together with him I broke down, the therapist took me aside after and told me I needed to gain control of my feelings, I tried. It seemed to be helping and I was glad my son had someone to share what he could not share with me. Unfortunately his dad did not see things the same way and stopped paying for his sessions (he had a great job with full medical coverage, I struggled financially, no coverage). I found him a new counsellor I could afford and he seemed to like him but getting him to go to his appointments became as difficult as getting him to go to school. He didn't want to do anything but game eventually. It was like his avatar had taken over. I would try to limit the gaming, hiding the modem etc. and he would become enraged. I was actually afraid of him, he punched holes in walls, physically intimidated me and once pushed his grandmother. I called the police twice because of his meltdowns.
He threatened to kill himself. I took the threat very seriously and the police took him to the hospital. I spent most of the night there with him refusing to take him home until someone made a plan to treat him, he was now 18 and I couldn't force him to do anything but I was trying to get him into the system so he could get the help I couldn't give him. He was crying and asking why I didn't love him. I had told him I loved him everyday of his life. I knew if I took him home nothing would change. I begged his father and other family members to help, to take him in for a while so I could continue to work and get my shit together in order to deal with this. No one would. No one even showed up.
I kicked him out. I helped him with finding a place to live and set him up financially and even got him a job where I worked. It seemed better, not great, but better. He would be late for work likely because he was up late gaming, but the space was good and our relationship improved.
Of course things didn't last and he moved back in, slept all day, gamed all night and eventually I kicked him out again. He went to a shelter. I didn't sleep the whole time he was there. Oddly our relationship improved again. The cycle happened one more time, he came home, left because of the loafing/gaming. Now he doesn't speak to me and tells me I was abusive. The thing is I think I eventually was. I could not speak civilly to him during the last time he was home. I felt like he was sucking the life out of me. I couldn't sleep because he was yelling at his computer late into the night. I was sleep deprived and stressed out. I would ask nicely once, then I would lose it. I had lost control. I felt he didn't care about me or anything but his gaming life. I was angry and couldn't deal with it.
He left and hasn't spoken to me in months. I reach out occasionally but he just sends profane texts and accuses me of being abusive. I'm not sure what to do. It's kind of a relief to not have to deal with him to be honest, but my soul aches for him. I want him to feel I will always love him and that he is never alone. I really would do anything for him, but I can't do anything when he is living in my house. It's so hard. I think of all the mistakes I made as a parent and wish I could go back in time. I wish he was happy.
Say anything!