Saturday, December 11, 2010

So Now the Truth Is Out

I have very much appreciated the sweet assumptions that I'm a great and wonderful mother lately.  On my best day I'm not sure how true that is.  These are not my best days.

Most of my blog has a glaring void.  You do not find much of my son on these pages.  Part of that comes from the fact that toddlers and babies are just naturally easier to write about without worrying if they'd like it or not.  Funny thing is, Tom is my only family member who knows about this blog.  Of my almost tens of followers, I know two in real life but see one hardly ever and the other never since his beloved wife, Carol, died.  (I've been thinking a lot about that post of hers, it's worth reading again and again.)  So, Tom knows firsthand all about Corey; my "real" life followers, not so much.  And Corey may realize that I have a blog, but he's never read it that I know.  Still, I don't write a lot about him because it's hard stuff.  It's painful.  There are no cute, tidy little endings.  And it's embarrassing, frankly, the stuff we go through with Corey.

Before we moved, we were on a first name basis with a couple of compassionate police officers in town.  One of them would actually volunteer to take a call when my son's name was mentioned.  We haven't had that type of trouble since moving, but when we have trouble, we still have it with a capitol T.  It has been just over a year since we had problems like this, and it has been a mostly decent year. Granted, my version of decent where Corey's involved would probably not quite be acceptable for a lot of parents. But from where we were, it's been mostly decent. 

Although everything feels so sudden, now that I've had a day to reflect, I can see it's been coming for about a month, maybe six weeks.  Last night's blow up left Madelyn and Maisy shaken (yeah, me, too), a planter in shambles and our outdoor Christmas lights pulled down. 

My son no longer lives with me.  Despite it all, my heart is broken.  I cannot help it.  Of course, it would be bad at any time, but it's Christmas.  I walk by a table and see the Santa puzzle that I bought for Corey when he was four or five, and the Santa calendar that I bought because of him.  We're supposed to get our tree this weekend and I wonder how I do that without him.  What will it be like to put up the decorations without him?

I worry about whether the right decision has been made.  Ultimately, Corey made the decision because he knows very well what the boundaries are.  I am a spell it out kind of mom, especially with the big stuff.  Tom has been supportive, but I know he has to hold back.  Corey's not his kid.  I would be very sensitive to him trying to push Corey out.  Aside from occasionally agreeing that life was going to be a lot easier once Corey was an adult and moved out, he does not say or do anything to push.  Honestly, if the roles were reversed, I cannot say I'd be the same way.  My mother has also been supportive.  Okay, so she won't be winning any mother of the year awards her own self, but she has always viewed Corey as her way of making up for mistakes she made with my brother.  If Mom ever felt I was expecting too much or not handling things the way I could, she has let me know.  Mostly by relating a story of how she wished she'd done something different regarding my brother.  But she's said several times that I'm doing the right thing.  Mom and Tom are the only ones who know besides the collective "you."  I worry about being surrounded by people who will wrongly try to support this if I've overreacted.  What if I'm being unfair?  Expecting too much?  What if years of my sucky mothering has led to this?

*sigh* I know.  Counseling.  Clear expectations.  Behavioral therapy; token reward system; exclusively positive reward system; be a freaking comedian at the end of a good day system.  Special education services.  Extremely focused special ed services.  Independent study.  Medication.  Chiropractic care.  Horse therapy (okay, that went horribly awry when the owner of "his" horse moved away suddenly without telling us).  Going back to a comprehensive education program.  What didn't we try?  Biofeedback.  Why not?  By the time I knew enough about it, he'd been on medication too long for it to be effective.

So where is he now?  Currently he is at my mothers.  His stay there has to be very limited.  I have given her information on Job Corps. and I know he called, but has to wait for someone to contact him.  I don't know what will happen if he does not get in.  He cannot come home right now.  Staying out late or all night, giving me an attitude and being lazy with his chores is one frustrating thing.  Scaring his little sister and destroying our property is another.  Honestly, I could let the property thing go again if it weren't for Madelyn.  I grew up in a home with violence and screaming.  My kids shouldn't have to go through that.  Heck, I shouldn't either, but it's different somehow when it's your kid instead of your parents.

I did speak with him today.  I told him I love him.  I am always his mother.  If there is something he needs to get in to Job Corps., I will be there to provide it.  Once there, he can come home for holidays and special occasions  I am here if he wants to talk.  I'm so far from being ready to cut him out completely.  I just need to have a safe home.  As ever, Corey is stunned by his own behavior.  Sad.  Apologetic.  Probably devastated to know he upset Madelyn.  Since she was born he has prided himself on being a very good big brother.  It's one thing I can always say when people ask about him.  He is an excellent big brother.

I feel like I'm in the Twilight Zone. 

I am worried.  And sad.  And angry.  And so not a wonderful mother.

1 comment:

Bossy Betty said...

Oh Sweet Thing--the pain you must be feeling...I know that you love your boy at the core of your being and though you may not want to hear it right now, you are being a good mother. You are doing what you are doing out of love for all your children. The path of the parent is never easy, but yours has been particularly difficult. Hang in there. Give yourself a hug. You made a very difficult decision. It was made out of love--as warped as it seems--it was.

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