We are all painfully aware of what happened in that elementary school in CT last week. My sympathy for those involved is two fold. As a parent, even though my children are considerably older, I can only imagine the pain and the never-ending sense of loss they will feel from that day forward. I can't bear the thought of losing one of mine, regardless of their age or regardless of the circumstances. There is the old adage that no parent should ever have to bury a child and it will never stop being true.
Secondly I feel for the mother of the boy who did this and I'll explain why. I am mother to an extremely willful and defiant child. Most people would say that kids go through those stages where they test boundaries and experiment with rebellion. And while that may be true when it's coupled with the fact mental illness runs in my husband's family my anxieties are fueled to bonfire proportions.
I've watched, almost obsessively, both of my children for signs of distress. Every one of my daughter's mood swings, every act of defiance in my son sent my mind racing for answers. Is this normal for their age, part of puberty or a sign of something more sinister to come. I've talked to doctors and counselors about how to tell if either of them had inherited their grandmother's bi-polar disorder. I was assured time and time again that any errant behavior was part of growing up or just an under-stimulated, intelligent child acting out of boredom. But more importantly I was told that officially they couldn't diagnose anything until they were older. Evidently puberty does quite a number on brain chemistry so no official diagnosis could be made until things had settled down (late teens/early 20's). And even then we might have to wait for a psychotic break.
While my son has never been violent, never threatened our lives or gotten in anything more than playground fight I still see similarities in the news stories about the young men who've done these horrible things. I'm so afraid of these similarities that I find myself looking more for things that don't match up. He loves animals so unlike most serial killers he hasn't killed any neighborhood cats or dogs. He never was a bed wetter (which most psychopaths are said to have been). He exhibits protective behavior toward the elderly and small children. I hold onto these things in my mind, little slivers of hope that he will come through whatever this is he is going through and emerge the young man I long so desperately to be proud of.
Right now he hates me, and honestly right now I'm happier not having him around. I threw him out Friday afternoon and he didn't return until Sunday night. With the exception of the few times I broke down and cried thinking/worrying about him I forced him out of my mind and had a pleasant, stress free weekend.
I wish I could express these feelings more eloquently, but I'm trying to quickly purge my brain so I can go about my workday without constantly thinking, "Could that be my son one day?"
Monday, December 17, 2012
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Blog Therapy: Take 2
I started a blog a couple of years ago. The posts were few and far between, not to mention less than optimistic. I haven't posted anything in over a year and I can't even log into it anymore since my email address has changed. I didn't stick with it long enough, or post frequently enough, to know if it actually helped. But since I'm once again getting that fight or flight, teetering on the brink of a nervous breakdown feeling I thought I'd give it another try, spewing all of my anxieties on the anonymous public as an exercise in self-therapy.
In the off chance that someone actually stumbles across and reads this here's some background:
41 y/o mother of 2
married 22 years
18 y/o daughter (19 next week) who is an hour away at college studying criminal justice and considering a minor in women's studies (fledgling riot grrrl and 3rd wave feminist)
17 y/o son who tests extremely high scholastically, but also tests "high" pharmaceuticly. But "it's just pot" so I'm not supposed to worry that he'll fail out of high school and ruin his life. Even though he's failing out of high school and already has a criminal record. Silly me.
2 fur babies (boxers Braddock and Layla)
These posts are not a cry for help, advice or sympathy. I learned when I was younger that in order to keep from exploding emotionally you have to find an outlet. At first it was self-harm (or cutting) which helped externalize internal pain. Then it was sex. After having the kids it was easy for me to make them my only focus to keep me from feeling anything myself. Of course as anyone could have predicted they got older and don't need me every waking moment which leaves me with my old demons, who patiently waited for me all these years. However unhealthy these methods were I still believe a philosophy of "better out than in" can be helpful when living too much inside your own head. In this way writing has been the only healthy thing that has helped me. I've kept a "Dear Diary" style journal with letters to my G-ma who has passed away. When I was younger, like every angst filled teenager, it was poetry. And now, thanks to the wonders of technology I can post my deepest darkest secrets and fears for the whole world to see.
About the blog title, it was my G-ma's frequent outburst of exasperation when she was being pulled in too many directions at once. My brain feels like that sometimes. Like I'm being asked to feel too many things at once. Stress over bills, pride in one kid, heartbreak and/or anger with the other, loneliness all the time.
That's me in a nutshell. I've promised myself that this time I'll chronicle the funny stuff too. Because thankfully there is some of that. Otherwise I'd have driven into oncoming traffic by now.
In the off chance that someone actually stumbles across and reads this here's some background:
41 y/o mother of 2
married 22 years
18 y/o daughter (19 next week) who is an hour away at college studying criminal justice and considering a minor in women's studies (fledgling riot grrrl and 3rd wave feminist)
17 y/o son who tests extremely high scholastically, but also tests "high" pharmaceuticly. But "it's just pot" so I'm not supposed to worry that he'll fail out of high school and ruin his life. Even though he's failing out of high school and already has a criminal record. Silly me.
2 fur babies (boxers Braddock and Layla)
These posts are not a cry for help, advice or sympathy. I learned when I was younger that in order to keep from exploding emotionally you have to find an outlet. At first it was self-harm (or cutting) which helped externalize internal pain. Then it was sex. After having the kids it was easy for me to make them my only focus to keep me from feeling anything myself. Of course as anyone could have predicted they got older and don't need me every waking moment which leaves me with my old demons, who patiently waited for me all these years. However unhealthy these methods were I still believe a philosophy of "better out than in" can be helpful when living too much inside your own head. In this way writing has been the only healthy thing that has helped me. I've kept a "Dear Diary" style journal with letters to my G-ma who has passed away. When I was younger, like every angst filled teenager, it was poetry. And now, thanks to the wonders of technology I can post my deepest darkest secrets and fears for the whole world to see.
About the blog title, it was my G-ma's frequent outburst of exasperation when she was being pulled in too many directions at once. My brain feels like that sometimes. Like I'm being asked to feel too many things at once. Stress over bills, pride in one kid, heartbreak and/or anger with the other, loneliness all the time.
That's me in a nutshell. I've promised myself that this time I'll chronicle the funny stuff too. Because thankfully there is some of that. Otherwise I'd have driven into oncoming traffic by now.
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