Saturday, February 25, 2017

The Leaving

So many lies this week. I hope you know this isn't how I wanted things to end.

I have to ask, why did you laugh? You laughed at me and smirked. You laughed at your little sister as she stood there crying her eyes out.

You are a jerk.

But, I love you still.

I hope your home with that deplorable girl is exactly what you hoped for.

I hope you don't fail.

Remember when things get hard, you chose this.

I would have given you the world of you had just gone to school and completed your homework. Why was that hard?

I don't even know what to say.

Saturday, February 18, 2017

The BIG Fight

You skipped class again on Friday. I didn't know about it until later. You told me you felt ill, that you were going to throw up. I told you I was sorry. A little later you said you had actually thrown up and I told you to go the nurse. You didn't respond.

Later that afternoon, you're older sister brought you to my office so that the three of us could go to your doctor appointment. You receive a prescription for Prozac.

This is after meeting with your school counselor, meeting with your therapist, telling all of your teachers, your coaches and anyone else who would listen, about your problems. I pulled together an army to help you.

But still, you lie.

I was angry when I learned you'd skipped school. I had made a fool of myself telling you how proud I was of you for staying in every class. All you said was that it was hard.

I emailed your counselor and your 2nd period teacher to find out why you had been allowed to leave class, when you are on the "no pass list" at school. Your teacher responded with a different story. A story that did not involve your being ill, but your desire to attend a protest on campus.

I confronted you. You lied some more. I yelled at you and told you to stop fucking lying. I grabbed a stick and pointed it at you, telling you to stop lying. I threw the stick behind me. I yelled a lot.

We went into your room, you said you didn't want to live here anymore. I told you I wouldn't stop you and started stuffing your clothes into a garbage bag. I told you there were two choices. You live here, you go to school, every class, every day, you play lacrosse, you graduate or you leave.

I said we've been bending over backwards, talking to school counselors, therapists, teachers...I said we'd do anything ANYTHING for you but you had to give us something in return.

You said you would work with me, but that I was going to hit you with that stick.

I have never, ever, ever, ever hit you. I would never, ever, ever, ever hit you.

I said it was enough and told you to give me your phone. You said it was your phone. I said, I pay the bill. You said you needed to call someone so you had a place to stay. I told you to put your shoes on and get out.

Before you left I told you that when you were ready to talk to call me.

Afterwards, I sent you a text to make sure to come and get your Prozac. I didn't want you to miss a dose. You came back, I gave you the meds and asked if there is something else you needed. You said your phone charger. I gave that to you as well.

I sent you another text, reminding you that when you were ready to talk, to let me know.

Frankly, I'm not holding my breath.

You lied. Over and over and over. To my face, to your teachers to everyone.

I'm tired of it. I'm tired of you making a fool of me. I told you how much we wanted you to succeed. How we paid for your therapist, your doctor. How we negotiated curfews and sleepovers. We were totally willing to give you as much freedom as you could handle....if you would go to school and do the work.

None of this matters. You want what you want. Chris told me that what you wanted, was for me to tell you to leave. Well, you got what you wanted.

And now you're gone.

Sunday, February 12, 2017

The Do Over

So, you weren't doing great when left to your own accord. You floundered. It was terrible to watch. You didn't sleep. You didn't eat. You skipped school.

We did the only thing we could do and that was to pull you back in. You didn't lose much, other than having to inform us of your whereabouts and go to school. Oh, and we asked you to consider medication.

I know we always encouraged you to deal with your issues, but we were wrong. If what you say is true, you have daily panick and anxiety attacks. You can't function. Its time for the big guns.

Your grades are so bad that you might not be eligible for lacrosse. That's a darn shame because you are a hell of an athlete.

Your coach is doing what he can to inspire you and get you back on track. Its going to require some real effort on your part.

Tomorrow is therapy. I don't know what to expect.

Tuesday, February 7, 2017

2:15 AM

You came home in the wee hours this morning. Seeing your bedroom light peaking under the door surprised me. Not just because you were there, but because I couldn't figure out how you got in.

When I confonted you, with my angry mom voice, you explained that you woke your little sister up.


The best part of that conversation, for me anyway, was that I asked you where the hell you'd been. I wasn't supposed to ask. I didn't care. It felt good to act like a mom and Not your roommate.

This entire situation makes my stomach churn.

I hope and pray we survive this. I hope one day we will laugh and laugh.

If you only knew how much and how desperately I care about you.

Good night. I hope I see you in the morning.


Sunday, February 5, 2017

Learning is Hard

You came home today for mere moments. You changed your clothes and went to work.

After work, you came home again. I was washing up, getting ready for bed and having a mental conversation with myself. I told myself to be cheery, to tell you to sleep, ask if you had eaten. When I opened the bathroom door, there you stood.

You were leaving.

I know shock registered all over my face. I started to ask where you were going, but stopped. I remembered our agreement.

I said I would get the door for you. I wasn't able to stop myself from asking if you were going to school.

You said you were. I said ok.

I shut the door too hard.

Gone. Where are you? What are you doing? Why am I so hurt every time?

I feel it's like I've been the abusive parent...instead of your real mom. Maybe that's the point. I am not your real mom.

Even though I thought there was a bond between us, it's been one sided. It appears that you feel nothing, well, maybe contempt, for me.

So, here I sit in the dark at 11:54 on a work night.

I wish I had done things differently. I wish that I had held a little of my heart back. I'm too emotionally involved.

It's okay. I'll get over it.

But not tonight. Tonight I'm going to sit here and think about how much I care about you. I'm going to cry and feel sorry for myself.

Tomorrow, I'll get on with it and put on my poker face, just in case you come home for a second to change clothes.

Be safe KK.


Saturday, February 4, 2017

Butt Dial

You've been gone over 24 hours. I try not to think about you. It's hard.

When the phone rang and announced it was you, I have to be honest and say my heart jumped a little. Then, of course, I realized you butt dialed me.

I couldn't make out what was being said, but I heard your voice. I heard your laugh.

I debated, then sent you a text. I made light of the butt dial, wished you a nice day.

24 hours

Its supposed to snow tomorrow. I know this means you'll stay wherever you are. 48, 36 hours. Who knows.

I miss when we were friends. I wonder if we ever were.

Friday, February 3, 2017


Hi KK,

This has been a tough week for us. I was hurt and angry. I think you were confused and angry too. Not our best week.

I started this blog because I need to say things, but I know you are not ready to hear them. Maybe you will never be ready. I don't know.

You left this morning. Took your toothbrush and your backpack. I realize this means you won't be home this weekend. I don't know where you are, I'm sure you're having a great time and not thinking about me.

I'm not saying this because I think it will hurt you, because it won't. I say this because you are 18 and young. Why would you think of me?

On the other hand, I am old and I cannot stop thinking about you.

I've made mistakes, that's true. I expected too much and was hurt when I realized that you would never feel about me, the way I feel about you.

I've failed.

I wish I could erase the bad times. If only I could sprinkle pixi dust on your beautiful blond head and make you forget all the garbage.

Maybe things would be different.

Maybe not.

I hope you're safe. I hope you are making good choices. I hope you come home this weekend.

I hope I won't act like a jerk and maybe we can learn to be friends.

I love you,