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When the Past Comes Back .. to Bite You in the ButtSep 05 '01 Write an essay on this topic.
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The Bottom Line It is hard, tough love is hard.
I sit here today wondering if I should write this in "How not to raise your teen," or "Empty nest ." For that matter if I should write this at all. I think it is important for all issues even the bad parenting issues be discussed in an open forum. I tend to talk about the bad and good in every relationship, if you say you never experienced a bad time with your teen then count your lucky stars. ==================================================== I was asked by someone to remove part of this review due to the fact that they were also online and felt what went on behind closed doors was not to be discussed in this forum. (Go figure, it is has caused problems in a current relationship. Well, at least she got to read it!!!) Not a blame game Ok, here is the scoop. I have one child left at home at the moment. I am feeling it big time. The empty feeling in my chest, the grinding in my stomach, the tears that seem not to end, and the guilt that is eating at my very core. The eldest step daughter is off, on her own doing her thing. Thoughts of college blown to the wind, so she can learn what "life" is really about. She is more than eight hours away, appears to be happy and set in her new life. Why doesn't she feel the emptiness I feel? Maybe it is just a Mommy thing. My step son is living with his mother over eight hours away, enjoying life. Not happy that school has started, but then what teen is. At the moment he chooses not to talk to me, but we will get to that in a moment. I am beginning to think Epinions should put a category on here about what do you do when the blended family falls apart. My youngest daughter is at home with me. We are trying to adjust to the newness of the situation. I think she also is having a bit of empty nest going on. For four nights now she cannot sleep well, drifting in and out, finally ending in bed with me. There are times we lay and talk about how it used to be, and what life will be. I attempt to find positive. I crack a joke now and again so that she is comfortable and doesn't see so much pain on my face, or hear the crack in my voice. "Well sis, at least the food bill will go down." She giggles, but it is short lived. I try another, but my attempts are lacking as of late. The biggest Blow Guess some were wondering when I would mention my eldest son. Now is the time. I am dealing with a lot of issues with him at the moment. I did not realize the effects of what he has witnessed in his short life. What role models did he have to look upon. I for some reason had thought once I removed him and me from those situations he would be OK. I could not have been more wrong. My ex husband was an abuser, a drunkard, wife beating man behind closed doors. To the public he was Mr. Wonderful. What they did not see and my child did see made all the difference in his life. He was taught that Mommy's are supposed to be perfect. Never burn dinner, never a hair out of place, weigh a certain amount, always caters to the husband if not then she deserved a spanking of however A Dad saw fit to give. Mom was to be put in her place, talked down to and do what the man in the family says or else. Any type of agreeing or disagreeing was considered in the same light. Either it meant you were being smart, or disrespectful, and again another spanking for Mom. Until the day ole Mom found herself in the hospital and unable to care for anyone. For that matter not even caring about herself, just the how she would get her children away from the monster that was ripping her entire being apart. I did that, nearly 12 years ago. Only to find myself in a similar relationship which ended within six months of starting. Yet my son witnessed enough to tell him yet again, it is ok to hit Mom, because she must have done something wrong. Mommy was good at hiding bruises, just not so good at hiding broken bones. I tried again this time waiting a few years getting myself together, making my children more healthy. Unfortunately I ended in a controlling relationship, one that did not cause frequent bruising, nor broken bones. Maybe a busted lip along the way, a few house destructions, angry tone, a push, a belly bops across the room but that wasn't hitting. My ability to stand up for myself had gotten stronger and I had hoped that made a difference in how things were viewed. I was wrong. This too, was witnessed by my son and daughter. This time the man left to another woman. The angry outbursts were due to each infidelity, each time he cheated it was taken out on me, his guilt became my fault. I realized this, my son however took this to mean that Mom had forced this man to do this to her. My son became these men a few days ago. My son and I had a disagreement, his mouth had become too much. He felt he needed to express himself with filthy words, and I corrected him. One thing lead to another until he was standing over me, and I felt the past creep up to bite me in the butt. He was attempting to intimidate me, it was working but I refused to show it. He pushed me, I pushed back. The rest was a blur of emotion, the last thing that I do remember clearly is his hand coming in contact with my body. I looked down five minutes after the altercation, and the bruising had already started. I was still angry, I had rules he did not want to follow. I had standards for my children, he did not like them. I had chores and a schedule he did not want to follow. I had a rule, we never hit Mom. He broke them all. I calmly told him to pack his things and to leave the house. If you cannot follow the rules, you have to leave. In saying that I had thought he would think really hard, but all he could say is, "I thought you would have learned your place by now." The words echo in my ears still, learned my place? My Lord he sounded like his father, I remember him saying those exact words to me over and over until it was all I could remember. My son doesn't live here, but being who I am, I sent him to someone that could attempt to show him the error of his ways. My father, the military, has your bed made by the time you leave for school, no socializing after seven P.M., be in the house when the street lights come on. Never talk back, do not leave the bathroom unkept, do not leave your clothes on the floor, if the bed is not made properly you will remake it until it is done properly. You wake at five A. M., you accomplish your chores, eat, do your own dishes, wash your own clothes and your room will be inspected every day. This is how I was brought up. If I call your name you don't yell "what," you bring yourself to stand in front of me and wait for me to tell you what it is I want you to do. I though by now he would have come home, telling me he was sorry. He has not. He is still gone, in his own world. He walks past me daily and refuses to look at my face, refused to acknowledge that I am alive. How I want to run to him and hug him bring him back into the house, back to Mommy. But that would be wrong. He needs this discipline that I lacked giving? The proper male role models? The anger management classes that need to be a bit more intensive. It is hard, tough love is hard. I heard last night a saying that I will never forget. "It's not the letting go that hurts so damn much, but the hanging on that does." In ending this, I made mistake, plenty as you can see. Our children learn what we teach. I say don't blame the child, I say don't blame you....that is what the counselors say. It is the right thing to say to you. I do blame myself, I did put my children in those situations to learn. I have to take the responsibility that not I alone, but I did contribute to the way my son thinks. I did not raise him to hit women. I tried to give all my children the same amount of love and thought enough love would erase the ugliness of the past. It doesn't folks, it is just like sweeping dirt under a rug. You may not see it, and it all looks good but it is still there only masked. Thanks for reading.  |
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