I’ve decided to give up. I’m giving up thinking my 13yr old is going to get a grip of his control issues any time soon. For the last week he’s been behaving erratically. He’s seriously obsessed with take away food. Sounds trivial I suppose. Believe me when I say it’s not. He attempts to manipulate me & when I don’t play he loses it. Tonight whilst in the kitchen telling me I had nothing to eat (untrue, fridge is pretty full) I said no to a take away pizza. He lifted my carton of milk & threw it on the floor. Milk went everywhere. I told him he was definitely not getting a pizza. He went out into my hall, picked up a small vase & smashed it on the floor. He heads upstairs & I follow. He sits down & of course it’s my fault. I quickly scan the room. I do try to be one step ahead so begin lifting up my precious breakables. He did manage to throw 2 remotes, 1 plate, 1 sellotape dispenser & 1 buddha. It could have been so much worse.
So, in a house with 5 other teenagers I’m guessing the milk is still on the kitchen floor & the smashed vase will be where it landed. I would love nothing better than to just go to bed but fuck it, I have to clean his mess up. He’s already asleep on a sofa. He wouldn’t tidy it up anyway.
I’ve decided I can’t keep my niceness any longer. My buddhas need to be removed from my sitting room. My vases, my nic-naks, all my Yankee candles. Every little thing that makes me smile needs to be removed. I have to strip my room back to the basics. It will make me terribly sad but I have to meltdown proof my room. It’s like going backwards to the days when I had toddlers. All that will remain will be my 3 sofa’s & my fireplace. A mirror on a wall,my Tv on another & a canvas he never quite manages to destroy. My beloved art is long gone. I don’t think my stuff will ever come out again. My room will be stark but safe. It won’t have anything of me in it though. It will revert to just being another space I hate.
**I’m about to go to bed. If I was to have a shower tonight I’d probably not want to get out. No pressure when I’m in the shower,. I’m not worrying that my house is to quiet or it’s to noisy. I don’t worry about the laundry I didn’t finish or the laundry bag still waiting for attention. I don’t rage about people who think I have a perfect life. I don’t worry about having anxiety till I’m physically sick. I don’t worry that my kids are all as fucked up as I am. And no one hears my cry because not one fucking human being ever asks me if I’m okay. I am so very definitely not okay. That people is the reason I don’t see my friends & I don’t drink.
I should add I have a lot I don’t type. I feel so over whelmed by this life shit. It should have gotten easier & it hasn’t. I’m 52yrs old & my youngest saps every bit of energy I have. If you know someone like me who look like they have there shit together, don’t assume, ask. I don’t why should she. The chances are the stuff she doesn’t tell you is as important as the stuff she does talk about. Ask her if she’s okay because chances are she’s just like me & she’s not.