I am 53 years, so this could be a long story. Let's see if I can summarize the highlights, while focusing on the most recent events.
Grew up in the MidAtlantic region. Only child of a hardworking single mother. We didn't have the best relationship. Unfortunately, I think that planted the seeds for the horrible relationship that I have with my own son. My father was barely present in my life. He had his reasons, but his absence left me feeling unloved and unimportant.
I went to college at the University of Maryland, where I made some very dear lifelong friends. After going away to graduate school, I returned to Maryland where I met and married my husband. One of the attractions for me was that his family readily adopted me as one of their own. His family even stood beside me when I insisted that he get counseling for his anger management issues. While he never touch me, he did punch through a few walls which scared me. The counseling worked for quite a while.
When I became pregnant with my son, I decided to cut ties with my seemingly ambivalent father. I wrote him a letter explaining my feelings and asking that he not try to contact me again. I did not want my child to feel the ambivalence from his grandfather that I felt from my father. When my son was in high school, I decided to give my father another chance. People change and I didn't want to deprive my son or myself of the opportunity to get to know my father. I figured that my son was old enough to understand the complexities of the relationship if my father wanted to be a part of our lives. It turned out that my father hadn't really changed. He was happy to be in contact again but he made no effort to visit or to invite us to go see him.
Sadly, my husband's brooding and angry eruptions resurfaced when our son became a teenager. I had also become withdrawn and depressed since I didn't have much of a social support system after our move to NH when our son was in second grade. As I started to build a social life for myself, my husband and I drifted further apart. We disagreed on many things, especially on how to handle our teenage son's passive aggressive rebellious behavior. The two of them barely spoke. The most peaceful time between the two of them was whenever they would play video games together.
In 2008, my husband lost his job as an architect. Without any discussion, he then decided to become a nurse. I had to take on a lot more financial responsibility. My husband went through a six week training to become an LNA (licensed nursing assistant). The plan was to work as an LNA full time until he started nursing school, and then to work part time while he was in school. Unfortunately, the work wasn't as regular in coming as he had believed it would be. On top of that, he was barely contributing around the house even when he was home for entire days. He said that he was tired all the time. I assumed that the fatigue was due to depression.
He played video games all the time, or worked on his other hobby: restoring Japanese swords. He had around a dozen. Throughout our marriage he practiced a number of Japanese marital arts. He was advanced enough to teach regular classes at a local YMCA.
In 2009, I took a trip to a meditation retreat for a week. I knew that I needed to deal with my own internal issues if I was going to fairly deal with my husband and son during this rough period in our lives. The retreat was great for me. I regained the optimism and self-direction that had been long missing from my life.
Unfortunately, my husband was dealing with his own unspoken demons. He assumed that I was cheating on him while I was gone. He had gotten a lawyer and was starting divorce proceedings by the time I returned. Instead of letting unspoken issues be the end of our marriage, I insisted that we go to couple's counseling. So long as we went to counseling, I thought we might have a chance to save our marriage. He agreed and things seemed better for a while. Eventually, my husband saw counseling as nothing but criticism of his behavior by both myself and the counselor. I thought that I was trying to change and that he really wasn't trying to make our marriage work. When he said that he wanted to stop going, I agreed. I knew that our marriage was over, but I decided to stick it out until he finished nursing school.
Things degraded over the next six months. Without getting into the gory details, we ultimately agreed to get a divorce. Things got pretty ugly between us, since he was still living in our house for the first few months. I approached my son to ask whether he wanted to live with me, his father, or if he wanted to split his time. He responded that it should be pretty obvious that he would prefer to live with me, since his relationship with his father was virtually non-existent. It really had deteriorated much further over that last year. My relationship with my son had also degraded with the stressors of the previous year. I tried to get him to talk to me about the things that were going on with our family and other things in his life. Unfortunately, he wasn't big into talking about his feelings. He also seemed to brood and hold grudges without articulating his issues with the person who offended him. He even broke up with his girlfriend, of a year, without telling her why he no longer wanted to be with her.
Eventually, my husband moved out. The police eventually became involved, partly because my husband kept showing up at the house causing scenes. He would verbally abuse my son when my son wouldn't let him in, since I wasn't there and I didn't want the man in the house without me being there. I was afraid of what he might do since he was angry all the time and venomous with his words. When my husband violated the stalking protection order I put in place, he eventually went to jail. At this point, my mother-in-law washed her hands of me. This ultimately led to my estrangement from all of my husband's family since no one wanted to upset her by communicating with me. The hardest part of that was the loss of the friendship of my sister-in-law. We had been close for nearly 20 years.
About a year after the divorce, my husband's family told my son that my ex-husband had been diagnosed with ALS, a fatal illness. It turned out that much of his frightening and erratic behavior over the last couple of years was probably attributable to the onset of the illness. Since my ex because suicidal after the diagnosis, and the symptoms were starting to make it difficult for him to care for himself, my ex ended up hospitalized for the remainder of his life. Over the next two years, my son saw his father at holiday gatherings at my sister-in-law's house. His father barely spoke to anyone, but mostly watched television and smiled when people spoke to him.
My son started attending college in the fall of 2011. He was working part-time. Early in his second year of school, he started struggling with his coursework. He dropped out mid-semester. Around the same time, he got a new girlfriend. He decided to go back to school at the community college in the spring of 2013. Not long after, he moved in with his girlfriend. He and I had struggled as housemates over the last two years. He didn't want to help out around the house, and I didn't want someone living in my house as if it were a hotel. We both figured that we might get along better if we weren't living together.
When his father passed away that April, my son seemed to take it well enough. He attended the funeral and memorial service. I was not invited, which was fine with me since the family was estranged from me. I felt like I lost my husband years before the divorce.
Since I still had a life insurance policy on my ex, we were able to pay off my son's student loans. We also bought him a reliable car with a small car payment so that he could build up a credit history. I was still living in the four story townhouse that I had shared with my ex and my son. I had some physical disabilities that had worsened over the last few years, so I decided to sell the house and move into a single story home that made more sense for me. I indulged myself a bit by buying a newly constructed house with a few frills that would make my life a lot easier.
Over the next year, my son and I seemed to be getting along better for the most part. We had a few bumps that I thought we'd recovered from relatively well. I'd heard from his girlfriend that he was having a rough time with the upcoming anniversary of his father's death. Over the coming months, he changed his Facebook cover page to a photo of his father's grave. Then he proclaimed how much he missed his father when everyone was doing the ice bucket challenge for ALS. I suspect that he was kicking himself for not trying to have a better relationship with his father when he was still alive. He wouldn't talk about it to her or me.
Then, he and his girlfriend started having issues. She and I were quite friendly. When she cheated on him, he didn't want to tell me about it. He asked her to do it. When she told me, I was definitely torn. I understood why she had done it, but I knew that I should consider my son's feelings first. Since he seemed like he wanted to save the relationship, I wanted to support his decision. When he asked me what I thought about the situation, I suggested that they go to counseling to figure out how they got to where they were, and how maybe his behavior may have contributed to her ultimately cheating on him.
It was the wrong thing to say for so many reasons. On the other hand, I think that anything I could have said probably would have been the wrong thing. He blew up at me saying that I always took other people's side against him. I was astounded. I didn't know where this generalization was coming from. After a few more back and forths over text (which is the only way he ever really wanted to talk to me) he stopped speaking to me for a couple of days. I decided that I didn't want to communicate with him electronically. I wanted to have a real talk about where some of the things he said were coming from. He eventually apologized for some of the things he said, and I foolishly thought that things were back on track.
A few months later, his girlfriend broke up with him, saying that they weren't good for each other any more and that she need to take care of herself. My son was devastated. He had flunked most of his spring coursework too. I tried to be supportive. I said as little as possible regarding her, other than to encourage him to take care of himself. He arranged to get an apartment on his own, and he even talked about possibly moving to Seattle to start over someplace without all the negative memories (not just from the recent break-up but also all the nastiness of the last few years). The idea made me sad, but I quickly supported the idea.
A few weeks later, his ex started hanging out with him "as friends". The more time she spent with him, the more hopeful he got that they would get back together. I dropped a few comments about being cautious and keeping his distance. I was concerned that she really was just leaning on him for support and that she wasn't mentally ready to be back in a relationship with anyone. He wanted to believe that things were getting back on track. She eventually checked herself into a mental health facility for a few days. This freaked my son out. He couldn't sleep, he couldn't focus on work. He ended up at the emergency room with a panic attack.
When his ex resurfaced, my fears played out. She told my son that she had been unfairly leaning on him and that they shouldn't see each other any more, not even as friends. He went home that night and drank himself into a stupor. He also got his hands on some pills. When his roommate came home, he was unresponsive on the floor. They got him to the hospital and pumped his stomache. The next day, he asked to be checked into a mental health facility. He had his ex inform me about the situation. I went to the hospital to try to see him before he went to the facility. He was angry that I had showed up since he texted me not to come when I was on my way there. Once I made sure that the hospital had found a place for him, I left. He was very angry with me (and the rest of the world too, I suspect).
When he got back from his lock-in, we agreed to meet to discuss any outstanding issues between us. When he finally showed up to meet with me, he asked that I let him speak his peace without trying to counter anything he said. I agreed on the principal that we could talk again in a few days so that he could listen to my reaction to what he said. He agreed. His primary issue with me still seemed to be that I had taken his ex's side when she had cheated on him. He also complained that I expected him to do things for me in exchange for me doing things for him (an economy borne out of years of dysfunction between the two of us - it was the only way I could get him to contribute around the house or to acknowledge any sort of appreciation for any "favor" he asked of me). He said that he didn't want to rely on me for anything and that I shouldn't expect anything of him. He said that he'd only put up with it so that I would pay for his college, and that his friends encouraged him to just get student loans and wash his hands of me. I did counter that I would pay for school regardless of our relationship, so long as he could civilly approach me when the bills were due. He seemed to agree to that. When he left, I hugged him. I asked him when we could could together again so that I could give my reaction. He said to give him a few days. I agreed.
At the time, he still had a key to my house. I had a funny feeling that he would swing by to take advantage of my laundry room when I wasn't home. Considering his statement about not wanting to rely on each other for anything, I wanted to make sure that he understood what that really meant. In retrospect, I suppose that I could have continued to let him to take advantage of me and just look the other way for such things. But I was a bit angry myself. So, I deactivated his security code in my alarm system and went to work. Sure enough, he called me in a panic that afternoon when his security code wouldn't deactivate the alarm. I told him that I wasn't expecting him to come and go at my house as he pleased any more, especially without warning, if we weren't supposed to be relying on each other for anything. I gave him a code to deactivate the alarm. I later texted him asking him to return his key to my house. He left it by the backdoor as I suggested.
In spite of texts, emails, cards, and letters. I did not hear from my son for 15 months. I had already decided to move away from the area. I had said as much to him in several letters I sent to him in the summer of 2015. One of the things I needed to get away from was the constant hope that he would show up at my house, or that I would see him somewhere in public. I had heard from my former sister-in-law a couple of times about how she was supporting him since I was not. He had decided not to go back to school, which she blamed me for. She bought into his perception of our issues and didn't want to hear my perceptions at all.
He contacted me in the fall of 2015 asking if we could meet to catch up. I agreed. We had a lovely meal and chat. I suggested that we not talk about the past between us, but that we look forward. (This would eventually come back to bite me in the butt, I think.) He agreed that we could get together again in a few weeks. I wasn't sure if he meant it. But, he did end up coming over to my house to hang out for a bit, and to see my oldest cat who he adores. We got together again for dinner so that I could meet his new girlfriend, who he had been with for about a year. I didn't tell him, but I knew about his job changes and the new girlfriend, since I would periodically look at his Facebook and LinkedIn profiles using other people's phones (folks that were "friends" with us both).
Things seemed to be going fine. We would randomly text each other silly things or pictures of our pets (he has a dog and a cat). We got together about once a month for a meal or he would come over to claim some item I was giving up before I moved. Then, about a month before my move Facebook threw a picture on my timeline from a trip that he and I took when he was in high school. It had not been a good trip for us at all. It was hard to see the picture, but I was hopeful that we were on the right path to a better relationship. I texted him about the picture, saying that it was tough to see since it brought back some tough memories. I admitted that I had made mistakes in the past and that I hoped that we had both learned from our past mistakes, and that I hoped that he could now feel how much I loved him and cared about him. I then apologized an said that we could go back to keeping things light.
He never texted me back. He didn't answer my phone calls. I decided to wait for him at his apartment one evening when he got home from work. He looked at me and then pointed at his laptop, saying that he was busy and that he had work to do. I asked that he tell me why he wasn't speaking to me again. He said that he didn't want to talk about it, and walked passed me and into his building. I moved out of the area a few weeks later.
Not a day goes by that I don't think about my son. I constantly rehash everything that went on between us. I try to think if there is anything that I could do to get him to reengage with me. I've even considered reaching out to my sister-in-law again, thought I know that would probably be pointless and would just end up hurting my feelings even more, since I still have a hard time stomaching her turning her back on me too.
So, here I am, trying to build a new life for myself. Three thousand miles away from the son who blames me for things that he is unwilling to talk to me about, the son who cannot seem to remember any of the good times, or any of the myriad ways that I tried to care for him, most of which I truly did not ask for acknowledgement or recompense for. I know that he may beat himself up for not trying harder with me once I am gone, like he did with his father. Though part of me suspects that he won't. His father barely tried to have a relationship with him once the teen rebellion started. While I know that I made mistakes, I kept trying and trying to build bridges with my son. As a result, he may memorialize me for my mistakes instead of giving me credit for trying.
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