real talk

ok. fine. i’ll talk about it.

this post has been wandering around my head for WEEKS but i’ve been too terrified to actually write it down. i keep SAYING don’t be afraid to talk about it. don’t be afraid to tell people. being afraid of it makes it worse. makes it stronger. so take that power back. get rid of that energy drain. don’t be afraid to reach out. don’t be afraid to be honest. don’t be afraid to talk about it. DON’T. BE. AFRAID.

and then the bloggess posted an article about talking about it (if you don’t know the bloggess, go find her). and there’s been some not so subtle signs from several corners of the universe kicking me, ever so gently with a steel toed boot, to write about it. talk about it. get the poison out. 

so. here we go.

trigger warning: this post is going to talk about suicide. REALLY. REALLY. talk about suicide. it’s ugly and real and honest. there’s no sugar coating, no tip-toeing, no delicately talking around the issue. it’s blunt. it’s me. the only way i know how to be. 

a few weeks ago i had a really shitty week at work. a really, really, incredibly shitty week at work. a week that made me feel like i am TERRIBLE at my job. and i’m not terrible at my job. i’m very very good at my job(s). it all ended up working out, mostly, but it was a BAD week. between a terrible client, being on hold for SEVEN hours with quickbooks- it was bad. it was absolutely, totally  wrecked, bad.

now, i’ve had bad work weeks before. i’m not perfect at my job, but after 20 damn years i’m pretty fucking good at it. then that week hit. and my work was the ONE THING i felt like i’ve been holding together the last year.

parenting: terrible

finances: terrible

friendships: terrible

relationships: terrible

but work. WORK. the one thing i’m good at. i’m fucking good at my job. the one piece i could hold together.

and that last little tiny toe hold felt like it was falling out from under me. the last piece of my maslow’s hierarchy was crumbling.

it was a bad week. a really bad week.

and i started making a plan. not the good kind. the kind that, looking back, makes me want to hug myself.

i started to make a plan to end my life.

i have to move in april, right? so what if instead of getting ready to move, i just get everything ready for...

i could have everything ready for my dad’s birthday. one last steak and whisky then...

fuck that’s scary to write. and it’s scary to feel.

so. that’s where i was. it was bad. it was ugly. it was dark. it hurt. it scared me. and i didn’t like it. i don’t like it.

i made it through the weekend, made it to the next week and then had another bump in the road when my teenager texted me for the first time since october. great? right? no. it was a huge long attack accusing me of abuse, again, telling me how horrible i am, again, and telling me he hoped i was sitting at home alone and miserable (and i was doing exactly that. ouch.). it was ugly. it hurt. it was completely out of the blue and unexpected. it made me realize that...it made me really realize how long that road is going to be. if he’s even open to getting help, if he is able to GET good help, i’m still not sure...

that’s a really long road. 

and i started thinking about suicide and my plan again. like. really thinking about it.

SO. OK. SELF. LET’S REALLY THINK ABOUT IT.

you think cleaning up your apartment, getting everything in order, having instructions, a plan...think that will all make it better?

survey says fuck off. steve did that. how well did that work out? did all his organizing and getting things lined up make it any better on the back end? did it make losing a brother hurt any less? or did it BREAK. YOUR. HEART. that no one saw it? that you didn’t see it? make you so angry that you didn’t talk to him more? that you didn’t know?

you’ve been in that exact spot. how did it feel? do you want someone else to know that feeling?

his apartment was nice and clean. cool. did that make emptying it out any less traumatic? do you remember how fucking endlessly long that day was? driving back and forth with dad for HOURS to find steve’s car in an impound lot? watching steve’s mother pack up things that belong to a son she’ll never see again? did it hurt any less to have to pack up all your brothers nicely organized things, but not knowing what to do with them? pieces of him- what do you do with it? why would you want to put your friends through that? or the apartment manger. or whomever gets stuck dealing with it. you know your brother wouldn’t have a clue. you couldn’t do that to someone. you couldn’t intentionally leave a shit storm behind. even a well organized one.

so. that bullshit part of the plan is out. what’s next?

oh, think how much good could come from your life insurance policy. yeah. because we all know my friends are the type to think some sort of payout is better than a friendship? you know your people better than that. they would literally practical magic your ass back to this realm just to kick it for even thinking that. nice try. next.

ok. how about: “you’re not supposed to worry about what other people think. you’re not supposed to base your decisions on the impact it will have on others. just worry about yourself first.” ok. let’s rip that thought apart: a) that’s not you. you know that. you think about other people. always have. probably too much. how things will affect them. will it hurt them? you need balance in that department. you’re working on that. be nice to yourself. but it will always be there. not caring at all is not the balance to always caring. find a middle ground. 2) you can’t intentionally inflict pain. you can’t passively inflict pain. it isn’t in you. maybe it’s narcissistic to think people would be sad if i was gone. they would be hurting. BUT I STILL THINK IT. and i don’t want to...i can’t knowingly be the reason people are sad. i don’t want to be the reason people hurt.

so that part is out.

so. how would you do it? seems stupid to not be an organ donor. you’re healthy. or at least have a majority good parts. pretty sure there’s not a way to make both happen. NO. FOR FUCKS SAKE. DON’T GOOGLE THAT.

so. you don’t even know that part.

so what part DO you know? you know you’re sad. you’re hurting. you’ve been through a major, unexpected, traumatic life change. and now your brain isn’t being friendly. ok. let’s work on that.

#1 call your therapist. DONE. back to weekly appointments.

#2 ok brain. we’re going to fucking figure this out. let’s get some mental health going. let’s get a plan together. a mental health care plan.

OH. SNAP.

replace the word mental with...heart. or kidney. or pancreas.

you make comprehensive health care plans for the rest of your body. parts that can heal themselves, maybe be replaced, maybe managed.

if your heart is an asshole they can do surgery or stints or bypasses or other things i’ve heard on greys anatomy but can’t remember. they’ll give you medication or treatment. they’ll 3d print you a new one. i saw it on tv. it must be real. 

if your kidney craps out they can transplant a new one. or medicate the crappy one.

low blood pressure? high blood pressure? diabetes? infection? break? sprain? medication. meditation. injections. cast. physical therapy. 

we do it for all other parts of the body and we’re not terribly embarrassed.

so why can’t we talk about the brain that way? why are we so embarrassed that brains might need help the same as a  kidney might? because we’re still scared of it? because we still don’t understand it? because there’s more questions than answers? it’s the most delicate, most important part of the whole meat factory. it’s the part that makes the rest work. it’s the breathing and the memories and the personality. its understanding. emotion. logic. it’s feeling and facts smashed together in one bone cage. we use a small percentage of its overall power and barely understand even that. it’s mysterious and unexplained. and yes, sometimes parts of it don’t work right. like any other part.

ok. so. let’s make a plan. and for fucks sake, can we please admit how serious this is and stick to a plan this time? this is more than just a bad day. a little bit of pms maybe. stop downplaying it and dismissing it as being dramatic or over reacting. this is literally a matter of life and death. you’re in a fight for your life right now. so time to get back on the right path. time to fight. ok? so what does that look like?

back to basics: vitamins, water, real meals, sleep. brain and body need good fuel to operate. it’s not that hard. just take the damn vitamins. it takes 2.3 seconds. drink the water. no, coffee doesn’t count. EAT. more than bread and hummus. real meals. protein. fats. carbs. vegetables. fruits. all that crap. pyramids and portions and whatever. all those pinterest recipes? that fancy new instapot? MAKE IT WORK. sleep? make it happen. turn off the tv. put down the damn phone. use essential oils. sleep sounds on alexa. smoke yourself to sleep. just SLEEP. have a bed time. stick to it. 

people: you need people. that means leaving your house. so make a schedule. no. a schedule isn’t dumb. it’s practical. people have entire meetings for schedules. tuesday, thursday and sunday can be gym day. yes, the gym is damn near the worst place on earth but it’s $10 a month. it’s out of the house. and it’s healthy or whatever. go walk on a damn treadmill for an hour and listen to music. or podcasts. for fucks sake, you can even watch netflix on your phone on the treadmill. no excuses now. whisky wednesday. do that. you love your bar. you love the people there. you’re comfortable there. go there. friday nights and monday nights you can clean and get all the chores done. yes 2 days for cleaning is plenty. quit being so picky. sheesh. saturday’s GO OUT. find a book reading. a concert. anything. a comedy show. a movie. OUT. get out. netflix will still be there when you get home.

ok. what about *actual* people. like, ones you actually talk to. you can ask them to help without making them responsible for you. simple things. it’s not their job to keep you healthy. it is your job to reach out. they can say no if they’re overwhelmed or uncomfortable and that’s ok.

ok. so you need to TALK. find one person and ask them to check in every few days. have conversations. talk about things. talk through things. talk about nothing. just. talk.

ok. so you need to be real and work on that balance of not worrying what people think. practice being REAL. ok. sounds stupid. but ask one friend to hold your toes to the fire to post REAL, unfiltered snapchat pictures. walking stella on a saturday in mismatched jammies with no bra on, glasses, retainer, no make up and bundled up for winter. it’s real. so show it. to more than your neighbors. be a real person. no one has run away screaming yet. BE. REAL.

ok. so, the gym. fuck i hate the gym. but ask someone that goes ALL THE TIME to bug you if you haven’t mentioned it in a few days. you can check in from the treadmill and so can they.

and remember, this is not THEIR responsibility. it’s YOURS. you take the vitamins. you do the work. you reach out. this is YOUR mental health care plan.

and i’ve been doing it. it’s been a few weeks. it’s hard. as. fuck. but i’m worth it. that’s a big statement for me. i’m worth it. i can say that now and mostly believe it. that’s progress. i’ve been doing the things i need to do. ive been holding myself accountable. i’ve been kind when i’ve missed one bit. i’ve allowed room for imperfection without abandoning the whole plan. that’s progress. that’s huge progress.

suicide is scary y’all. it’s not the first time it’s wandered across my brain but  it is the first time it tried to really settle in and make itself at home in my thoughts. and i’ll tell you what. i did not care for that one bit.

so i’m working on changing it friends. i’m finding ways to make sure those thoughts know they’re not welcome. making sure they don’t get comfortable hanging out. i’m working on changing the negative thought patterns. i’m working on building safety checks. i’m working on LIKING myself. i have 38 years of really, really hating myself to learn to undo. it may be a pendulum effect, please bear with me if i become an egotistical asshole for a minute. i’ll find the balance. i have to find the balance.

i’ll get there. that was a shitty week. wasn’t my first, and i know it won’t be my last. i’m making sure of it. i’m here to fight. i’m in this for the long haul. good bad, bumps and bruises, i’m sticking around. 

and that starts with not being afraid. being able to talk. not being ashamed. not hiding. not giving myself another reason to hate myself. 

if you need help, it is scary. i won’t lie. but there’s help out there. there people and resources. REACH. OUT. just beyond that dark shadow there’s help. whatever you’re going through, it’s a shitty week. sometimes that shitty week feels 20 years long. sometimes it’s one really bad day. and i don’t know if it gets better. i decided to make a change and fight for myself but that doesn’t mean i suddenly woke up to woodland creatures cleaning my house and rainbows shooting out my ass. i’m sure it will get better, and even if that takes a while, i’m tough. i’ve seen some shit y’all. i’ve been through some pretty hard moments. and i’m still here. so i got this. if i made it through 2009 and 2010 i can make it through 2019. 

if you need help, REACH. OUT.

find a friend. find a neighbor. most jobs have an employee assistance program. if you’re too scared to talk to a friend, if you’re struggling with embarrassment, TALK TO A STRANGER. there’s a reason “the comfort of a stranger” is a real thing. so make a call. 

call: 1-800-273-8255 24 hours a day. literally ANY. TIME. there’s someone there to talk to. there’s someone there in spanish. there’s someone there for hard of hearing. there’s someone there on text if talking saying the words out loud is too hard today (text 741741). because that’s a real thing too and it’s ok. 

YOU DON’T HAVE TO BE SUICIDAL TO CALL FOR HELP. bad day and just need someone to talk to? they’re there. have a friend that you want to help? they can help you find ways to gently help.

it’s not weak. it’s not failure. it’s HARD. AS. FUCK. to ask for help. it’s hard as fuck to say some of the painful stuff your brain thinks up. it’s hard as fuck to choose not to believe the negative. it’s hard as fuck to fight to make things better. it’s not weakness. it’s not failure. EVERYONE. and i do mean EVERY. SINGLE. PERSON. ON. EARTH. has bad days. don’t believe the social media hi-light reels. EVERYONE. EVERYONE has bad days. and no two bad days are the same.

suicide isn’t the answer. it really, really isn’t. my brother took his own life. he planned, arranged, tried to make it ok. i can tell you there’s no “good” way to leave people behind. there is nothing ok about being on the other side. i know it didn’t solve a single damn one of the problems he was fighting. suicide likes to pretend it’s a good solution. it like to slide up next to you and lie it’s face off about how much better it will make thing. THAT’S A LIE. it doesn’t make anything better. it’s just- stops everything. your life is your story. want it to have a good ending? maybe even a happy ending? maybe even a fairytale ending? then you can’t stop it right in the middle of the bad part. sleeping beauty would have been a shit story if it was just like- oh. she’s sleeping. the end. harry potter would have been terrible if he had just been like- I DON’T KNOW. confession: i never read the books. but i’m 100% sure based on the movies if he’d been like- oh. this teacher is mean and quit it would have been a shitty, shitty story.

i’m going to make my story good. i’m going to try my damndest to give it a good ending, in 60 or so years. that’s a lot of pages left to write. this is just a dark chapter in the middle. this is just a storyline arc, not the denouement.

thankful

i'm pretty sure 2018 has been 900 years long.

Last week was thanksgiving. I was fortunate enough again this year to have one of the best people on earth open her home to me AND she was kind enough to break with the traditional thanksgiving feast to teach me a few recipes I’ve been waiting years to figure out (Harvard beets are still as good as I remember them!)

But, in keeping with tradition, I’ve taken the last week to really try to find what I’m thankful for this year. In an especially chaotic and painful year, it’s been a challenge, but here we go:

This year I am thankful for my health. I have been so, so, so incredibly blessed in the health arena. I’ve given birth twice and had my gallbladder removed in my life. That’s NOTHING. Especially as a single mother. I have been so endlessly fortunate that I’ve never been sidelined with an illness. I’ve never had my health affect my job, cause financial stress, cause long-term anxiety. Even my mental health- the last few months I’ve really been realizing how deep and widespread my anxiety has been my whole life, but I’ve still managed to function around it. YES, I’m realizing the major impact it’s had, but I’m still functioning. I am so, so, so incredibly thankful for my health. I haven’t taken the best care of myself. I loathe working out. My attempts at dieting and exercising have been short lived and never with any regularity. I’m pushing 40 and still hit way too many drive-thru restaurants to be considered anything even remotely close to smart dietary decisions. And yet here I am. Insurance has been off and on over the years with job changes, but it’s always been there when I did need it. I have friends facing major medical problems- heart issues, surgeries, torn muscles, broken bones, dental issues, circulation issues…I can’t even imagine what some of them are dealing with physically AND financially. So THANK YOU. THANK YOU UNIVERSE. Thank you for my health. Thank you for keeping me running all these years and able to keep up with my kids and work and life. I am thankful for my physical health and thankful that I’ve found a great therapist helping me sort out my mental health.

I’m thankful for friends. Not just friends, but FRIENDS. The ones you call at 10:30pm when you’ve just finished dealing with the police and you can’t think straight and you can’t tell the difference between tears and snot. The friends you can call or snapchat or text at literally any time of day and they’ve got you. They may not respond right away, because, you know, life, but you KNOW they’re not ignoring you. You know they’ll get back to you as soon as they can. There’s such a security in that. There’s such a safety in having people that you can say literally ANYTHING to and they’ll respond “…giiiiiiirl…” and you know they get you. You know they’ll talk you down from the ledge, even if it’s the 10^th time this month. You know they’ll help you brainstorm, research, sort through. I’ve struggled my entire life trying to be what I thought people wanted me to be. Being careful of what I say, trying not to let too much of my freak flag out. I struggled to be socially appropriate, not embarrass anyone, be “proper” and fit in. this last year I’ve started just…existing. I let myself be myself. I’ve allowed myself the space to speak my mind, say the things that probably shouldn’t be said. And you know what? Not only did my friends stick around, it deepened my bond with them and more often than not they responded SAME. All my fear, my whole life, of chasing people away by being myself? Turns out when you find the GOOD PEOPLE that’s not an issue. They love you and accept you. That’s a beautiful, beautiful thing. I’m so glad for my friends. I’m so glad I found my people. I LOVE MY PEOPLE. I am so thankful for them. I’m so thankful they accept me and have helped allow me to become ME.

I’m thankful to whatever force in the universe has protected me this year. Things at home have been…it’s been bad. Things right now are hard and ugly and heartbreaking. I’m living alone for the first time ever, years before it was the plan. My kids…I can’t go there right now. Things are hard. BUT, they could be so much worse. I’m alive. I’m safe. There’s been moments when neither of those were a guarantee. I can’t explain the pure, heart wrenching terror of finding hidden weapons in your home and wondering why they were hidden and what their intended purpose was. Finding a hatchet hidden in the kitchen, finding an 8” hunting knife, 3 bb guns, an airsoft pistol and countless pocketknives/switchblades/throwing stars. Why were they hidden around the house? Why didn’t I know they were in my home? What was the purpose for them? Where did they come from? There have been so many times I was scared for my safety even without knowing there were things hidden in my house. How much worse could it have been? How close was I to…to harm? Additionally, there have been so many threats, challenges, visits from the police. There have been investigations, questions, visits and phone calls. And I’m safe. All the 911 calls for help, all the threats at school to teachers and other students, all the confrontations with police officers. we have somehow avoided being on the evening news or on the local scanner listeners radar. I’ve seen so many stories come across the local news pages- 911 calls, suicide threats, students threatening other students, teenagers in confrontations with the police…and somehow none of them were from my house. I am so, endlessly grateful for whatever bubble of protection kept us from that spotlight. I’m so grateful that, for the majority, all my interactions with responding police officers have been calm, logical, positive. They’ve listened, kept their cool, helped out with all the resources they had available. I’m thankful for case managers, cps workers, counselors that helped find a safe path and resources. I’m thankful for the safety and the protection and the protected bubble that has kept the worst of the worst case scenarios at bay. I’m so endlessly thankful for whatever, wherever that protection came from.

I am thankful for my jobs. I have 2 great jobs with 2 great bosses and so many great coworkers. I haven’t been worried for a second letting my bosses know what’s been going on. They’ve graciously allowed me the space to make it to court, attend therapy, cry at my desk as needed. They’ve offered help in whatever way they could and made sure to let me know my job was never at risk. Having work, having a “normal” routine to keep me distracted/focused has been so immense. It has been my anchor. Whatever else has been happening, whatever news headlines, whatever personal headlines, work was there for me. I’m good at my job. i’m good at being able to compartmentalize and focus on getting things done. It’s been immeasurably helpful to have one steady constant. I know, Monday through Friday I have to get up and get out of bed. I have things that need done. Timesheets that need processed. Invoices that need paid. I make a difference where I work, at both places. I’m an important part of the team. I’m used and useful and my absence would be noted. That’s lovely. That’s…it’s the anchor I’ve needed.

It’s been a hard year. Fuck it. It’s been a hard 10 fucking years. There’s been pockets of goodness in there, but I just feel like life has been a slow burning dumpster fire since 2009. I’m ready for that to change. I’m working to make that change happen. My therapist homework assignment last week was to start planning for the future. REALLY planning for the future. Not just the “someday” bullshit that I’ve kept on a back burner. Actually planning and working toward specific things. Something I’ve never done. Since 7/1998 it’s been “raise my kids” without much thought beyond that. Now, suddenly, I’m beyond that and have no direction, no goals, no plan. So I’m working on it. And I’m thankful for the people guiding me through that process (my therapist is amazingly patient but firm and honest y’all).

I’m just. I’m thankful y’all. I know there’s so many things I could throw in here: music, books, movies, art, bartenders, beauty crew…all the little pieces and things that I appreciate. I’m thankful that I am able to plan finances and make adjustments as needed. I’m thankful that while I may not be able to COOK (I’m a box and can girl, not a from scratch girl) I’ve never gone hungry a day in my life. I’m thankful that I have a lovely apartment and managers that have been patient and kind. I’m thankful for SO MUCH.

It’s been a hard year. It’s been a sad year. It’s been a scary year. It’s been a heartbreaking year. But I’m still so thankful. I’m thankful for insight and awareness that allows me to process and experience.

I’m so thankful y’all for so much. I’m so thankful.

steadfast

i've spent my whole life hating myself.

there's these horrible, destructive voices stuck in my head that are so loud it's hard to hear anything else.

i've taken on blame and hate and negativity from other people for SO LONG, that it just...it became who i was. i believed them. in my journals, as far back as you look, there's been the common theme: "what's wrong with me?" and "why am i so broken?" i believed i deserved to be treated terribly. OF COURSE i was sexually assaulted as a teenager. OF COURSE i was raped as an adult. OF COURSE i was in a domestic violence marriage. OF COURSE i can't find a relationship. i deserved it all. i'm this horrible piece of trash, broken person. i was born a mistake and deserve every terrible thing since then.

BUT. HERE'S THE THING: THAT'S NOT TRUE.

i'm not a horrible person. i'm not a piece of trash. i'm not broken.

i AM a little weird. i'll own that one.

it's taken YEARS, to start to shift that conversation in my mind and stop listening to those voices. i'm still working on it EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. 

it's fucking hard work. really, really hard work.

but here's the bitch of it all: because i've thought of myself that way for so long, because i've believed the crap, because i believed all the HORRIBLE things, i kept allowing new people to treat me that way. why wouldn't they? and i've learned to distrust people that DON'T treat me that way. if anyone actually liked me, treated me kindly, maybe even loved me...there must be something wrong with them.

here's the really big bitch of all that: because i thought about myself that way, i let my kids think about me that way. I TAUGHT THEM to think of me that way. it's ok to make fun of mom being single. it's ok to say horrible things about mom. it's ok to yell insults and abuse. other people do, and she doesn't stop them. it's ok to just walk all over her, she won't stand up against it.

I TAUGHT MY KIDS TO HATE ME.

because i hated myself for so long.

that's a hard fucking pill to swallow.

and i'm not saying this out of self pity. i'm not saying this as yet another way to hate and blame myself. i'm saying this because if you want to change where you are, you have to acknowledge how you got there.

and i want to change. i NEED to change. 

especially when i'm staring at the results of all the hate every. single. day.

last year when i quit my job i started working on myself.

i left that job because i was tired of listening to people talk trash about me. i was tired of being groped while i sat at my desk. i was tired of listening to people openly bash everything about me: single parents, LGBT, tattoos, educated, nothing was off limits.

i started realizing i'm worth something. i'm worth standing up for. i'm worth liking.

in a strange way, i realized how insulting it was to people that i love and trust that i INSISTED on hating myself. how little do i think of my friends? do i really think they would keep a piece of trash friend around? a few of them even said as much to me: "it's really insulting that you believe i have such poor taste in people."

yes, i know that's a backwards way of looking at things, but hey, it got my attention.

and so i started changing. i started working on it. i started allowing myself a little more space to be MYSELF. to LIKE myself. i started just BEING. and, oddly, no one really seemed to care. they didn't leave in droves. i wasn't burned at the stake. if anything, the more real i allow myself to be with other people, the more real they become with me, and the deeper and truer the connections.

it's pretty sad that it took me 38 years to really, truly grasp this concept. BUT I'M WORKING ON IT. i've tried over the years. i've flirted with the idea of changing my mindset. i've worked on it over and over. i've taken classes, i've read countless books, i've tried so many different things. but when you're just dealing with symptoms instead of getting to the CORE of the issue, it never sticks.

here's the core: I'M A GOOD PERSON. i finally believe that.

i like me. i help others as much as i can. i will do everything in my power to help a friend that asks. i want to leave this world a better place than i came into it. i'm self aware. i'm intelligent. i'm thoughtful. i'm learning to ask for help. i have a decent sense of humor, maybe a little dark at times, but there it is. i have a lovely, comfortable home that's open to anyone. i've always been able to make home wherever we were. i'm a hard worker. i'm a good employee. i'm good at my jobs. i'm analytical and thorough. i'm willing to admit when i'm wrong and always looking for ways to be better. i'm careful and intentional about the choices i make. i'm dependable. i'm responsible. i'm honest, maybe a little too much.

BUT.

that's all new. being able to write that paragraph AND BELIEVE IT is completely new to me.

it still feels like bragging. it still feels like pride. it still feels conceited and wrong.

and it's still hard to believe it all the time.

so.

as hard as it is for me to change and believe it...as a person that ACTIVELY, PASSIONATELY wants to believe it and change...

how much harder is it for a fifteen year old kid that just wants things to be the way they've always been?

i'm sure there's other things going on- hormones, self discovery, struggle to become an adult, friends, girls, school, peer pressure...all the teenage things.

but at the core, at the true core of this issue is a fifteen year old kid that learned hate. he learned abuse. he learned to be mean and insulting and bully and take what he wants. I TAUGHT HIM THAT. and now i'm trying to change it and he has no stake or interest in that change.

so it's HARD.

suddenly mom isn't a push over any more.

no one wants to hear no. especially a teenager.

he's been saying for months: "i just want things back the way they were," and "it's so toxic around here and i hate it."

he doesn't realize the toxic atmosphere is because i've stopped absorbing all the toxicity. i've stopped taking on all the insults and the hate, so they just....hang there. they've run into a wall of: YOU CAN'T TALK TO ME THAT WAY.

that's new. that's different. so. YEAH, it feels crappy around the house when what always worked doesn't work anymore.

and then you have to try something bigger.

oh, just being mean and saying horrible things doesn't work anymore. let's try getting in her face and pushing. ok. that didn't work. let's try threats. oh, that didn't work, let's try skipping school. oh, that didn't work, let's try self harm and accusations. oh, that didn't work, let's try drugs and alcohol. that didn't work. let's try calling the cops...

and on and on it's gone. the escalation just keeps jumping and jumping because he's not getting his way. i'm not giving in. i'm not letting him walk all over me any more. and it's turned into a MASSIVE crisis. it's ugly and hard and scary and i don't know what's going to happen. i don't know where he slept last night. i don't know if he's safe or has clean underwear. i don't know if he's scared or hurt.

but i DO know he's still angry. i DO know he still thinks he can bully everyone into getting his way.

he thinks he can snap his fingers and the police will do as he commands. he thinks he can lie and get away with things. he thinks he can push around commissioners, lawyers, teachers, counselors. he thinks he can do what he wants, all day, every day, with no consequences. if anyone stands up to him, he will hurl all the abuse and hate at them he can. he will threaten others and even himself.

but if you want to live in my house, you need to treat people with respect. you need to contribute to the house. you need to contribute to your future. go to school. come home at the end of the day. be respectful of friends, ESPECIALLY GIRLS. don't steal. don't lie. don't threaten.

DON'T ABUSE.

i'm standing up and saying _I_ don't deserve to be treated this way. NO ONE does. and that's a fucking HARD, HARD change.

but it's necessary.

a friend just posted an article about a man that killed his wife and then took his own life just days after being arrested for assaulting a female taxi driver.

he thought he could just take what he wanted. when someone stood up to him, when someone called him on his terrible behavior, it escalated.

i don't know the full story, i didn't live his life. but i can bet that this wasn't the first time he treated someone this way. i can bet that if he was bold enough to treat a perfect stranger the way he did, his wife was getting 100 times worse at home. i can bet that there's a LIST of people that saw his behavior. i can bet that there's old girlfriends that aren't shocked by this news.

because i've been there.

i'm there now.

it has to change.

 

since this all started with the teenager, several months ago, there's been one word that comes to mind over and over and over and over: steadfast.

it's a calm word. it's a fierce word. determined. strong.



it's not an active word. i'm not flying into battle. i'm not raging.

i'm standing my ground. calmly. patiently.

i'm saying THIS NEEDS TO CHANGE.

i'm saying THIS IS NO LONGER THE WAY IT WILL BE.

i have to stand my ground.

i have to teach my son.

i have to teach him that he can't bully and hate his way into what he wants. i have to teach him behaviors and actions have consequences. if i let him treat me this way, the cycle will continue. there will be another person out there thinking about themselves the way i've been thinking about myself, and i wouldn't wish that on ANYONE. my heart breaks at the idea of another young woman facing YEARS of thinking she deserves to be treated this way. i know the dark, destructive, terrible self hate. i know it well. i don't want anyone else to feel this. ever. it absolutely guts me to think of him being mean and hurtful to a partner, a spouse, maybe his own children in the future. it crushes me to think he'll treat a boss, a roommate, a coworker the way he's been treating people now. i hate seeing how hard it is on his friends, his grandparents, all the people trying to help him now.

I HAVE TO BREAK THE CYCLE.

i have to.

i can't let this continue for generations to come.

I HAVE TO STOP THE HATE.

i have to.

i didn't teach him hate in a day.

it may take a long time to teach him a new way.

but i am to the task.

i will break this cycle. i will stop the hate. i will stop the hurt. i will teach him a better way.