Police Involvement...

I never thought that I would be a person that called the police. Like ever. I think before my son’s issue conflagurated into the current dumpster fire, I think I called the police exactly twice in my life: one time for two drunk guys who were beating themselves up outside my house, and the other for an accident I came upon on the road. That is it.

But since my son has become a teenager, and feels completely ok raging on anyone close to him, it has become a more common occurrence...like last night recent. I feel ridiculous. I feel like I am not using the police for what they are intended, even though they assure me every single time that I should always call, they are there also to keep the peace.

Well, keeping the peace would mean that we had peace to keep...and we do not. Like not even a little.

Last night’s un-peaceful even was brought to us by you know who. I didn’t get home from my day until about 9 pm last night. At my son’s request, I stopped at McDonald’s to pick him up some food because he had a hard day. Mind you that the things that he told me that were hard, were upon further verification, not in fact true...and I suspected that at the time, but calling him out on his lies just makes it all worse...so I just decided that it didn’t matter whether the reasons he was suffering were really or fancied, he was suffering.

So I stopped and got him a treat which I usually do not do. I requested that he come out to the car to help me carry in the food and drink and also some of my stuff. He didn’t. I had to call him again. Then he came out, finally, playing loud rap music at 9 pm. I was annoyed but asked him nicely to turn down the music. He took the food and went inside.

I gathered some of the stuff, as I still couldn’t carry it all, and followed him inside. I was immediately pissed about the condition of the house. While it wasn’t the worst I had ever seen, that is for sure, I was irritated that I had just been working all day and got home late and neither of my two teens who were home most of the day could be bothered to clean up after themselves. And I reacted to the fact that he saw fit to lay around doing nothing all day, didn’t pick up after himself, and then asked me to bring him food, which I did. I was not happy and I let that be known.

I did not yell or cuss or scream (that came later). I used the mother tone to let him know that I wasn’t happy with what I came home to and the reasons I felt the way that I did...or rather I started to...he followed me out to the car and asked me “Why you so fucking pissy?” (yes that is exactly the grammatical structure of his sentence...SMH!)

I said. “I am tired, I have been up since 5 am and am just getting home...”

And that was it, that was the horrible thing I said that started the rage fit. He began raging on me.

I asked him to please stop and when that proved futile...I asked him to go inside...

He followed me back inside and the tirade continued. He screamed at me, called me a piece of shit. Yada. Yada. Yada. Same fight, different day. I took it for as long as I could, then I screamed back. Then I saw how out of control I felt, and I locked myself in my office. He banged on the door and told me that he was not going to leave and I needed to come out right now.

I felt threatened like I always do. I am locked in a room, he is on the other side of the door, I cannot get out. He will not leave.

I called the police.

I felt stupid and silly and ridiculous. But I knew that if I didn’t call the police, he would rage on me for a lot longer. I was tired and just didn’t have it in me. I just wanted it all to stop.

As soon as he knew I was on the phone with 911, he calmed down. He always does. Immediately. Then he threatens to tell them on me. For what? Buying him McDonalds? Telling him I am tired? Exactly what did I do wrong???? I did throw the food away so maybe the police would arrest me for that?

The police came and they were amazing. I am so impressed with our deputies. They are calm, professional, compassionate, knowledgeable and kind. I am so incredibly grateful.

I gave the officer the run down, and then he came inside.

My son talked at him for like 30 minutes. Telling him his tale of woe. The officer tried to get a word in edgewise but it was hard, it always is. The officer took control and called my son out on his victim behavior. He listened to him for 20 minutes and all my son did was bring up stuff from the past and blame me, his dad and the rest of the family. On the subject of the issues at hand last night, my son really had nothing to say except, of course, that it was all my fault.

We ended the tête-à-tête with a commitment from both of us that we would just communicate through text. The officer was barely down the front steps before my son broke the commitment he just made and tried to talk to me. I ignored him and went to bed.

He came in again this morning, to apologize. Violating again the texting agreement. When I refused to talk to him, he told me the relationship is over as if that is new information or a threat. Please God let this relationship be over. I love my son. I care about him and have done my best to care for him. I have sought out every avenue of help, assistance and aide. I have tried, daily to right this relationship for everyone’s benefit. And he has blown it up every single time.

He asked me the other day if I would support him when he moves out. I asked what he meant by support. He said financial...I said that I didn’t really see why I should help him financially since he has refused to get a job, spent every cent he has made from sources most shady and unreliable and probably illegal, has not helped around the house in any way, shape or form, has been verbally abusive to all the household members and is disrespectful and rude and down right mean to me on the daily...

He responded with, “well then I will block you.”

Not I am sorry, I will change. Nothing. Just that if I don’t give him money, then he will block me. Well the joke is on him because he won’t have a phone to block me on because I am taking the phone back and not paying for it anymore. It appears to be time for him to learn just how expensive and hard it is to be an adult.

I hate that we are here. I hate that it has come to this. But there is no reasoning with him. He just lies and makes stuff up to support his narrative and his narrative is always the same no matter what the issue: he is right, we all are wrong and he is a victim.

I am so beyond frustrated, scared, upset and just exhausted. Raising him has been the hardest thing I have ever done. Getting sober was easier. Really.

I love this kid. I have done my best and I have made mistakes. But I have shown up and tried, again and again and again. And it breaks my heart to be here after all that time and effort and love. So much love.

I am afraid of him and for him. I fear what comes next for him when I kick him out at 18 but I am more terrified of what becomes of all of us if he stays. Doesn’t feel right that as a mother I should feel this way about my own flesh and blood.

I never thought in a million years that I would have police involvement in my life...yet, here we are. And I am grateful to them and for them. Had they not come last night, no telling where that particular rage-fest would have gone or for how long.

The officer didn’t keep the peace, but provided some. There is no peace in this house when my son is here. Or at least very rarely. He still has good moments which is what has historically made me sign up for more abuse, that promise that if I just do it right, things can be peaceful.

I see now that it doesn’t matter what I do. It is always the same, or worse. So I guess until August 27th there will be police involvement. And while I am grateful for it, it makes me feel like such a failure as a parent and human being...