Feeling Stuck

My friends tell me that I can't just live in a state of
suspended animation. That I have to restart my life. 
That I can'n't just "wait and see."

Things haven't been looking good for a while. 
Will they get better? They might. 
Will they get worse? They might.
Because of what I did? Maybe. 

What good came of what I did? None. 
Nothing came of what I did.
Only made him push me away. 
Possibly for good. 
I am to blame for that. 

"It didn't happen in a vaccuum." My friend said. 
Like if I hadn't been disturbed by those things he said.... 
If he hadn't been thinking and talking like that.... 

Had we had a better relationship.... 
That we were BOTH working on. 
Instead of completely destroying it.... 

And I could have been working on it more. 
Instead of trying to date. 
Because we all know how likely
it is for me to have a functional romantic relationship.... 

And my son needed my attention. 
Instead of wasting my attention
on trying to get attention from a guy
who wasn't ever going to stay or want me.... 

Maybe he had hopes of his parents getting back together. 
Which wasn't going to happen
because I'd already f*cked it all up. 
Being stubborn and selfish. 
His father is stubborn and selfish, too. 
It wasn't ALL my fault, but it was mostly my fault. 
Although his state of mind was taking a toll on mine. 

It got difficult living with him. 
I wanted more freedom. Which I got when we broke up. 
And I started to date thinking
that was what was going to make me happy. It wasn't. 
I started drinking more
because I felt like sh*t about myself. 
And the stupid desire I had
that seemed impossible. 
"Nobody's going to want me."
And now, I have to be okay with being alone. 
It gets lonely sometimes.... 
But "You have to focus on yourself, A***."
"Stop trying to change people
who have to want to change themselves."

And how do I convince my son that I loved him all along?
Because he likely sees me as a snitch. 
Snitching about the things he told me
that I had to address.... That I had to do something about.... 
It f*cking scared me.

And I didn't tell the police everything, 
but I did tell them enough for them to take him to the hospital, 
but they went over there to 'talk' to him. 
So he could 'talk' his way out of going back to the hospital. 
Because that would only be a waste of time
since the doctors apparently saw nothing wrong
with what I told the cops... 

It's like they're all waiting for him to do something
BEFORE he gets help. 
"We can only do so much."
Not exactly, they will only do so much. 
And I can only do so much. 
And maybe I did more than enough... 
Maybe I didn't do enough... 

Caring and being concerned isn't enough. 
Sometimes talking isn't enough. 
To people who won't f*cking listen to me. 
"Why should they listen to you, A***?"
"Why should anyone f*cking listen to you, A***?"
"Do you ever have anything to say worth hearing?"
"Maybe stop speaking out of your @ss."

"If you knew what to do, you'd do it."
So if you don't know what to do, 
why should they listen to you?

"Why should the doctors listen to you?
Don't they know better than everyone else
just because they're doctors?"
AREN'T THEY F*CKING HUMANS
WHO MAKE MISTAKES, TOO?
But they are supposed to know my son better than I do?
Were they there when he told me what he told me?
And my son didn't want anyone to know.... 
Because everyone would judge him... 
But they just let him go home.... 
So he could be alone with his thoughts some more.... 
With the thinking that got him to the conclusions
that he got to, on his own.... 
With his interpretations of everything and everyone. 

And fighting for him made me look like I am the enemy. 
And yes, I am mad that he's not getting the help he needs, 
but when he keeps refusing it.... 
And his dad refuses to acknowledge
that there might be some issues
that aren't being addressed... 
Who won't talk to his son
and won't talk to me.... 
And he has primary custody.... 

I feel f*cking defeated. 

But I told the police his secrets
and made them confront him about them. 
Which made me look like I can't be trusted. 
But it's not like these are secrets that I could keep to myself. 
Because he's been thinking about harming people. 
And that has to be addressed. 
And I don't know how long it's been going on. 
And any time I say anything about it, 
I'm not 'listening' and I'm only 'arguing.'

And I know this is about my son's pain. 
And his suffering. I know. 
I'd ask him how he's been doing and feeling
and he hasn't wanted to talk about it
but the few times I got him to talk, 
he'd say that stuff. About wanting to hurt people. 
And that isn't even the worst of it. 
And the police can ignore the red flags
even though they told me to report it. 
And nothing came of it. 

"So you told your mother this?"
"No, my mother's crazy. 
I already told her that I want nothing to do with her.
She's upset so she's trying to get back at me."
"Okay, have a Merry Christmas."

Do I say, "Okay, son... I tried to help you.
You wouldn't listen to me. You got angry with me.
You didn't really give me a choice.
I had to do something
because you didn't want to open up. 
You want to wallow in it and dwell on the past.
And hold onto your pain
instead of learning how to release it
and how to start looking at things in another way...."?

But I see how it looks to him. 
"Mom, you ambushed me with the police, twice.
You told them my secrets. 
That I trusted you with....
You told them to take me to the hospital
and I didn't want to go.
I haven't actually done anything.
There are reasons I think the way I do. 
There are reasons for my pain
and now you are one of them
because I trusted you....
Now I don't want to see you again
or have anything to do with you."
I get it. It's not that I don't. 

But will he want to hurt me?
Because I made the report?
Because he doesn't love me or care about me anymore?
Because he doesn't trust me anymore?

If you thought that your son would think this, 
why did you do it?

Because people had convinced me 
that I was 'doing the right thing.'
And I was asking for help
and this is what they told me to do.
Because I needed help with this. Big time.
But I had to do this another way. Not like that.
I got scared. And now I'm even more scared.
My son could be wanting to kill me.
I don't know what's going on in his head. 
He won't tell me anything now.

And I wish I could have just gone to his dad
and that his dad would have done something. 
Like take his phone away from him.
Monitored him more. In their home.
Not given him so much privacy.

I get that at his age, it's hard to see
that he can pull himself out of it
because he thinks he can't. 
That there's a lot that he can't do, or have, or be.
That's what he thinks. 
Because of what people have told him. 
One way or another. 
Even I did, indirectly. 
Because he sees me not doing much. 
He sees me having nothing to show. 
He sees me not being anything. 

For the most part, I'm okay with getting by. 
That has been my life. 
Yes, I could have been taking steps to improve my life. 
And to improve myself. 
But he saw me quit drinking.
He saw me quit smoking.
But he probably still remembers when I used to drink.
And remembers me growing up and maturing.

I was the same age as he almost is now
when I got pregnant.
And he feels it was selfish of me 
to give birth to him.
He told me that.

And I've been saying sh*t to myself for years. 
So I know how it feels and yet I have overcome some of it. 
But it took me a really long time. 
To see that I could overcome some of it. 
And that I've been my worst enemy. 

But there are some things that I can't take lightly. 
And that I can't take with a grain of salt. 
Even if everyone else can.... 

It bothers me. It really does. 
That I can't do anything about this. 
That I thought I was doing the right thing, 
but it wasn't seen as the right thing. 
And I'm up against a wall now. 
Like I am given no choice but to walk away.... 
But he's still my child and I don't want to just walk away, 
but I have to let him make his own choices. 
I can't choose for him. 
Even though he was still a child, at the time. 
But nobody stopped him from what he was doing. 
I could only tell his dad. 
I could only tell the cops. 
The cops told me they would tell the doctor. 
And even with what I wrote in the report, 
they didn't see the need to take him to the hospital. 
And had the doctor seen the report?
Because what I told the cops to tell the doctor
wasn't enough to have my son admitted. 
And the police can't force anyone to get treatment.... 
And can't force my son's father to get him admitted. 
So it was up to me, with no help. From anyone. 

And now that my son wants nothing to do with me, 
he's not talking to me anymore. 

Should I have asked the cops to take him to the hospital?
Should I have had the cops check on him?
Should I have spoken to his doctor?
To his dad some more? 
To someone who would listen to me?

Should I have taken him to the hospital myself? Yeah.
Should his dad have gotten him more help? Yeah. 
Should his dad have listened to me
when I told him what our son told me?
Should his dad have been someone he could talk to? Yeah. 
He's kept so much from his father. 
So it's not like his dad would know. 

But I'm at the point where 
I either keep trying to get him help.... 
Or just respect his wishes not to contact him anymore.... 

And yeah, maybe getting the police involved
wasn't the best decision on my part. 
I really didn't know what to do. 
I still don't know what to do. 
Do I still try to do something?
Or do I stop trying?
Because I have already made a mess out of it. 
When it was already a tough situation....
And I couldn't deal with this on my own. 
I needed help and support from his father
even before his father got custody of him.... 

"All you can do is look out for yourself, now, A***."
Is what my friends keep telling me.
"Go for a walk. Do something good.
Watch a Christmas movie...."
"Cheer up." Basically. 

It's just mega depression city right now.
Christmas is hard enough for some people. 
If Christmas was the only reason, I'd trade places. 

Should I be happy that my son felt safe to tell me things? YEAH.
But how did he expect me to take it?
At first I took it as well as I could. 
Which was probably a mistake. 
Of course I'm freaking out. 
A parent who cares gets freaked out. 

I've had no reason not to believe
that it wasn't actually something on his mind. 
That he wasn't just speaking his mind with me. 
Which is a good thing, 
but he won't tell me anything else now. 

Because I realized that I had to act on it. 
And the first thing I did was tell his dad. 
And most of the time he wouldn't take my calls. 
And always thought I was overreacting. 

And what am I supposed to do?
Tell someone, right?
Someone who will help me deal with this. 
And the first situation wasn't about the things he told me. 
It was that I had concerns that he might harm himself. 
That's what they were there for. 
But I told them what he'd said. 
When he was on the way to the hospital. 
Because it scared me. 

And then I got scared because that made him angry. At me. 
For telling them, and taking him to the hospital.... 
So I got scared and then reported everything I knew. 
Which made them go to him and question him about it. 
And now I'm scared about him being more upset about that....
"Then why did you do it?"
Because I was told it was the right thing to do. 
Because I don't want anyone to get hurt. 

"But Officers.... I wouldn't hurt anyone....
I don't know what you're talking about.
Oh mom? She's crazy.... 
That's why I live with my father...."

So you see.... I am scared. 
Because now it looks even worse than before. 
Because he's said a few things that really scared me. 
It wasn't just about one thing, it was about everything. 
But I'm scared. I don't want him to seek revenge on me. 
For telling the police. 
Because he didn't want me to do that.
I was stuck between 'do I? or don't I?'

And my friend told me to stop trying to justify it.
Because I may have prevented him from killing himself that night. 
Maybe not, if he wasn't going to try to do it. 
And that might piss him off, too. 

When I was in college, we were shown pictures from case files. 
And there was a guy who lived in this city, 
who chased his mother with a chainsaw out of the house
and went to the basement and used it on himself. 
And I'll always remember the amount of blood
in those photos....

And to think, it really happened in this city....

And to expect my son to understand why I did what I did....
To try to protect him from him
and to maybe possibly get him some treatment. 

But I didn't do what I was supposed to. 
Which was to be there more. 
Even though he knew I was there when he wanted me to be. 
All he had to do was say so. 
They wanted me to not come by the apartment. 
Because I went to check on him
and try to spend some time with him
when he didn't want me to. 
But moms check on their kids. 

That's why I always called and texted. 
And I'd ask if it was okay if I called a couple time a week
because he'd make excuses not to go out or see me. 

And he didn't want to talk about 'mental health stuff' with me.
But obviously, I was concerned about him. 
Because of the things he was saying. 
But it was getting worse. 
And I feel like trying to address it
might have made it so much worse. 

"There's your stupid mother being stupid again...."
"She thinks she can get you put in the hospital?"
"She thinks the cops can do something?"
"Is that all she can do?"
"Looks like you can't trust her after all..."
"It'll hurt her a lot not to have you in her life anymore. 
It would hurt her more to cause her suffering."

Of knowing she couldn't handle this properly. 
Of knowing that she can't have me in her life anymore. 
To know I won't talk to her ever again. 
To know I want nothing to do with her anymore. 
To know she's dead to me. 

And he knows how to hurt me the most. 
And if he feels like he can't trust me, 
then I don't know what's going through his head about me. 
I get scared that I might get hurt
or someone else might get hurt. Or both. 

So should I have kept his trust?
When someone could get hurt?
And I'd be at fault if I knew
that someone might get hurt?
And now I might get hurt?
Because he's hurt that I broke his trust...
Because he trusted me, more than his dad.
And our bond was building on our trust.

And I know that he's going to think:
"If I can't trust you, you can't trust me."

So, it's not as easy as just watching a Christmas movie. 
Or going for a walk to get fresh air. 
I wish that would remedy everything for me.
And turn this whole thing right around. 

Because this is a very hard situation to be in. 
Makes the issue of being single so f*cking moot.
Makes all other issues.... Just...

Because it was up to me to do something about it. 
What I chose wasn't the best path. 
It just put me back to where I started, 
except that I made it worse. 
Because what I did, didn't make it any better. 
For anyone. For him, for me, for his dad. 
For anyone who might get hurt, I'm sorry.

It's up to him to put the anger aside. 
And to understand where I'm coming from. 
I understand where he's coming from.

But I waited too long. 
And I should have taken him, myself. 
But he wouldn't tell the doctors about any of it. 
He only told me. 

And now I'm the bad person, 
for making him look like a bad person. 
When he just needs to get some help. 
And there is nothing wrong with getting help. 
Nothing wrong with it at all. 

I know he's angry because he's hurt. 
I can't change any of the things that have already happened. 
It's not my fault that the people who were supposed to be there for him, 
weren't there. In large part to do with his dad and I
not being very close with anyone, 
but not many people we got close with. 

So he only really had his dad and I. 
And mostly his dad whenever he'd stop talking to me. 

And really, yeah, I was hurt whenever he did that. 
And I had a feeling he'd do that to hurt me. 
Because he knows how much it hurts. 
Either that or didn't care. 

And yes, I made my mistakes. 
There were times I hurt him, but it wasn't to hurt him. 

And times I sent him to his room. 
As a time out and I'd always make sure he knew why
and I waited until he was ready to talk about
why he got sent to his room. 
Because he was upset about being sent to his room. 
As all kids are. 
But we get over it. 
I was grounded for a month. I got over it. 
I wasn't taught how to get over it, 
but I just got over it on my own. 
Because I knew I had to listen to my parents. 
And I did, until I didn't want to be there anymore. 
And then, I was basically out on my own. 

And I'm still learning, every day. 
I'm still trying to justify what I did. 
I mean, in this situation. 
But did the ends justify the means?
Did I help anyone?
Or just made things worse?

At the time, I was scared. 
But I should have acted right away. 
I shouldn't have waited so long. 
Why didn't I act sooner? I was scared. 
I didn't know what to do
but I had to do something. 

Does any parent know what to do?
In this situation?
When their child tells them things.... 
That freak them out?
And the parent they live with
won't help at all?

And you have to do something.... 
Why did it take so long?
It was as bad as it was.... 
Yes, I should have acted sooner. 

That's where I f*cked up, too. 
Because I kept getting blocked by them. 
They'd stop talking to me
whenever I tried to help. 

In February, my son stopped talking to me
until May or something. 
Around the time his father's mother passed away. 
We were trying to repair our relationship. 

Because I wanted his cooperation with the lawyers
because he was supposed to get a settlement, too. 
But he didn't want to participate
and he didn't want to come here for the appointments
with the Chiropractor. 
He and I had a fight on the phone. 
He got mad at me for giving birth to him. 
Told me what he thought of me. 
Then I told him I'd take him off the settlement
if that's what he wanted to do. 
And he said that I should. 
But it was up to him to cooperate, he wasn't. 
He'd stopped talking to me. 

And a friend pointed out to me today
that every time she was talking to me, 
that my son had stopped talking to me, yet again. 
So this is nothing new. 

There have been quite a few times he stopped talking to me. 
Because he knew it was the fastest way to hurt me. 
And yes, it does hurt. 

I had to get over it many times now. 
And now, the one thing I wanted, 
a relationship with my son, 
that's seems to be not happening
and if he's thinking about hurting me, 
then it can't happen. 

The emotional pain of him dropping off
and him telling me these things
knowing that these things would hurt me
and scare me.... 
And now that I'm scared that he's so mad at me
that he might want to hurt me
because I told someone that he was talking about hurting people.
Other than his dad because
I needed help to deal with this. 
And maybe I should have told someone else. 
Other than the police because they can't do anything.  
I had to because I knew that he felt that way. 
And his beliefs.... 

And if I'm the only one who said something, I said something. 
The doctors know. The police know.
I just should have told someone
who could have helped me. 
Now I feel like it's too late.
Because all I did was make it worse. 

Should you have done something sooner?
"Yes. A*** you should have done something sooner." 
Now everything you do will make it even worse. 

It wasn't that I took the easy way out. 
I did something. It was too little, too late. 
It wasn't enough. It didn't do anything.
It wasn't all I could do but I didn't know what my options were. 
I definitely needed my son's father to help me. 

I blame myself for waiting too long. 
When I really didn't know how to cope with this. 
Honestly, I still don't. 

He was really trusting me. 

But I had to do something about it
and he was counting on me to do something. 
Or maybe he didn't want me to do anything about it. 
And knew his dad wouldn't. 
But he never told his dad. I did. 
And I couldn't expect his dad to do something. 
Because he didn't. 
He probably didn't take me seriously. 
And I waited too long. 
I didn't act when I should have. 

I should have called the distress center right away. 
And other things were on my mind. 
But I should have dealt with this ASAP.
It was a priority. 

And now I am stuck where I'm at. 

Because it was hard to admit to myself
let alone to anyone else. 
And I should have done something right away. 
I blame myself for that every day. 
And that what I did wasn't enough. 
And that I went about everything the wrong way.