I Think This May Be My Last Post

I told my son he needs to go live with his father.

I have sunk so far into despair, disappointment (in myself, my son’s father, my son, his therapists, everyone on the planet), and self-loathing that I honestly don’t know how to pull myself out.

I think about all the posts I have done since December. I have tried to work outside the box with myself and my son. I have tried to center myself over and over again in dealing with his resistance to change, his fear, his ditching, his refusing to do the work in school, and his escalating drug use. The therapies, the long talks, the attempts to walk the line between trying to help him deal with his internal grief and sadness and holding him accountable to himself and to me.

I know I have said this before. I know I already told you I was physically and emotionally spent, and I had let him go. I thought I did, but the next day I found us in this new place, this new Field. It gave me hope; it gave me a way to look at my son and me in a new relationship. Okay, I thought, I can find it in me to do this (again).

Then, yesterday, he came home high (again) and denying it (again) after ditching school (again).

I lost my internal rudder (again), and have been pitching wildly on an open sea ever since (again).

I told my son he needs to go live with his father.

Four miles, but light years away, from the physical environment he has with me. His father lives in our house that has been teetering on foreclosure for over two years. There are piles of stuff all over the place. It is unclean (at least to me). There is no electricity, no heat, and no hot water. My son sleeps on a blow up mattress in the living room because, when I moved out and took him with me, we brought his furniture. A few months after I left, his father took in a “boarder” who was allowed to make himself comfortable in my son’s room. He left. All his stuff is still there…in a big pile… in my son’s room. His father has little, if any, money for food.

I told my son he needs to go live with his father.

I am not a safe emotional place for him or me right now.

It is taking everything I have not to get on that train.

I told my son he needs to go live with his father.

And I don’t know how to live with myself.