I have been concerned about my son.  It's breaking my heart.  He has not idea what he's doing to himself or to me.    He has this crazy idea that he has to oppose everything that is good for him.  And by oppose, I mean he becomes violent.  He has pushed me down and pinned me to the floor.  He has swung and punched me more than than my brother did when we were growing up.  He has no respect for my authority.  I don't know where it's coming from.  It's almost like he isn't capable of understanding authority that isn't physical, abusive, or mean.  It breaks my heart every time I have to raise my voice to get him to pay attention to me.

Living like this, with disprespect, feelings that I have to walk on egg shells reminds me so much of when I was growing up.  There was no peace in my home then either.  When I was curled up in my bed at night, tears rolling down my cheeks, i promised myself that I would not have to live in fear when I was a grown up.  That nobody was going to be permitted to treat me poorly. 

For the most part, I've been able to manage to keep that promise.  Keeping it has come at a big cost though.  I have been divorced twice.  My divorces, each one left me feeling all the things each other divorcee in the world feels.  I felt abandoned, alone, useless, worthless, incapable of maintaining a healthy relationship, stressed, depressed, and often suicidal.

But when those men mistreated me, I had an out.  I could leave.  Or I could make them leave.  My son is a child.  He's only 12 years old.  I am legally bound to continue to take care of him no matter how abusive or how big an ass he becomes.  I feel like I'm trapped.  It's rediculous that I feel this way.  This kid sitting across from me in my living room is my child.  He cuddled up next to me when he was sick, I chased away the boogeymen in his dreams, I was Santa.  Now this child, who was literally the person that introduced me to what real love is, hits me.  He hurts me with his fist, his words, his actions, his apathy.  He hurts himself by making such poor choices.  I do not know how to help him.

I've started taking him to a counselor.  Jesus Christ, it's unbelievable how expensive these guys are.  I'm sure they're totally worth the price of admission, but I'm not able to continue.  I don't have the means to help my son.  He doesn't have the will to change himself.  I am filled full of guilt from it.  I cannot offer him the things that he needs to be able to grow from this hormone enraged pre-teen to a loving, caring, good man.  I don't even know if this guy is going to even make it to be a man.  He is quite self destructive.  It breaks my heart.  And I don't know what to do about it.

This December, there was a snow day.  School was cancelled so I stayed home from work to take care of the boys.  Evidently there were some friends of Greyson's that were going sledding.  Temperatures were at -18F windchill.  Entirely too cold for kids to be outside playing.  The roads were covered in snow - the plows hadn't made it out to clear them all yet.  When I told Greyson I couldn't take him to be with his friends, he exploded.  He started yelling.  Mean, hatefilled words sprung through the lips of my little pumpkin head - all directed at me.  I tried to explain that it wasn't safe.  Not safe to be on the roads - not safe to be in the cold for that long.  I tried to be understanding of his frustration.  I tried to speak gently.  The things he yelled cut through me. 

I thought it would be best if he were to go downstairs to my mom's apartment, just long enough to cool off.  He wouldn't leave though.  He kept pushing and yelling.  I told him I'd had enough.  I sent him to his room, but he didn't budge.  Would not move.  I rose from my seat and pointed to his room.  Told him to either go to his room or go downstairs, either way he needed to get control of himself.  He pushed me, hard.  I came back to him and told him to leave.  I screamed for him to get out of my sight.  He pushed me again, yelling.  I slapped him across his face telling him he is not permitted to put his hands on me.  With that, he grabbed me by my hands.  With his hands on mine he pushed me back and down onto the floor.  I was unable to maintain my balance and fell on my back.

He held my hands down pinning me, screaming in my face how it wasn't fair that he couldn't go sledding with his friends.  "It's stupid," he kept saying to me over and over and over.  I was terrified.  I struggled against his grip with all my might and body.  I flailed myself until I managed to get a hand free.  When freed, my hand took on a mind of it's own, slapping, pushing, crazy everything just trying to get me free.  Eventually, he let go and I followed flailing my hands like I was in a girl fight. 

Greyson grabbed his cell phone threatening to call the police.  In hindsite, I should have been the one that called.  I should have dialed for him and made coffee for the officer.  But I was afraid he was going to get himself into too much trouble, so I tried to wrestle the phone from his hands.  He pushed me against the couch.  He has pinned my hands underneath him and was pushing his shoulder into my chest.  I couldn't free myself.  I couldn't get away.  I yelled, I wriggled, I screamed, I tried to free my hands, nothing worked, so I bit him hard on his shoulder.  I needed to get away.  I was so frightened.  I didn't know what else to do.  When my hands were free I was able to grab his phone.  He went across the room, got my cell phone and threw it at me.  He started to come back, started to threaten me again, came at me.  I turned my back to him, put my face towards the seat of the couch trying to protect the newly won freedom of my hands.  I took his cell phone in my hands, flipped it open, and told him I would break it if he touched me again.  With the threat of his phone becoming hurt, he left.  He put on his shirt and went down to mom's house to get her sympathy.

The idea of hurting his mother didn't stop him.  The idea that he could really hurt me, both physically and emotionally had no effect on him.  But a threat to his phone, well that was something totally different.  That was something he cared about.  That was something worthy of protecting. 

He spent the remainder of the day at mom's.  I didn't lay eyes on him.  I took off to the airport the next morning with a heavy heart and bruises on my wrists and chest for my scheduled work trip to China.

While away, Greyson thought it was a good idea to report me for child abuse.  He told his counselor part of the story.  Showed her the bite mark.  Showed her the scratches on his belly from my attempts to free my hands.  They were required to report it to the police. 

I spent the next month dealing with a police officer and a gentleman from child protective services.  Interviews, phone calls, all trying to tell my side of the story without having my son get into too much trouble.  Silly, I know, to still be concerned with protecting him from himself, but I guess old habits die hard. 

This is the first time this was brought to the police, but not the first incident.  I don' tknow how to get through to him.  I don't know where he ever got the idea that it's ok to hurt people.  I have tried my whole life to protect him, to keep people from being mean to him, to make sure that he knows he's loved, to give him support and kindness, but i don't know which one of those things was wrong.  Which one of the things I did has led to my son being so violent and uncontrollable?  I don't understand what I did wrong.

I don't understand what it is that I need to do to make this right.  I don't know what can be done.

So now here I am, a negative balance in my checking account and a week to go till payday.  Here I am knowing that he needs to visit a counsellor every week, but unable to pay for it.  I will be lucky to be able to put together enough money for him to be able to visit once a month.  How will that be helpful to him?  How is that going to help?  I feel so inadequate.  I feel so guilty.  I am unable to provide to my son what he needs.  And evidently, that has always been the case.  I have never given him what it was that he really needs.  I don't even know what it is that he really needs.  All I know is that I don't have it to give.

Maybe he needs someone to be excessively strict.

I don't have that in me.

Maybe he needs someone to be mean, to take him out back and beat the holy hell out of him.  Maybe that's the only thing he's capable of understanding.

I don't have that in me.

Maybe he needs constant attention, needs to be the center of the world for someone.

I don't have that to give him.  I have two children.  I only have so much to give to him.  I have to try to maintain a balance.  I cannot allow myself to become neglectful of Alex because he is well behaved and therefore less needy of attention - cause I know that isn't the real truth.  Well behaved children are struggling, begging for attention as vehemently as misbehaving children - just doing with a different approach.

I don't know what to do

I don't know what to say

I don't know how to fund the solution

I don't know what the possible solutions are

I don't know anything

I am so clueless

But I do know that I CANNOT continue to live this way.

I cannot live in fear

I cannot walk on egg shells - I've done my fair share already.

I cannot live like this

I cannot live like this

I cannot live like this

But I don't know what to do

What can I do?

I spent the last week in Oklahoma City.  My sister was married on Saturday.  The poor thing was so terribly stressed the whole week before.  I went there a week early specifically to help her with getting the last minute things done because they decided not to hire a wedding planner so she did it all herself.  I was really surprised by how much was left to do, but more surprised that she didn't want my help.  You see, her fiance had to approve everything, and I do mean everything.  He didn't like this or that so lots of things had to be redone.  So, she didn't want my feelings hurt if he didn't like something I did.  It's no wonder so many things were still left to do.  The night before her wedding, she didn't sleep a wink because of all the last minute changes that had to be made.

I felt so sad to see her marry this guy.  He is so controlling but she doesn't see it yet.  Maybe that makes her happy. ??  Nobody would be good enough for her, so maybe I'm just an overprotective big sis.