Continuing from – Just Different, I Was Wrong, He Came To Me, and Guilt…..
The hubby was coaching our youngest son’s baseball team and we had Anthony as an assistant coach. He loves baseball and we thought it would get him out of the house and help keep his mind off of things. To be honest, it worked for a while but it created other issues we weren’t expecting. The kids looked at Anthony as somewhat of an authority figure and Anthony just looked at himself as one of the kids. So when the kids joked around and made fun of each other, Anthony chimed right in and made fun of them too.
This ended up causing problems, of course, but in Anthony’s mind he did nothing wrong. He never does. Everyone is out to get him and conspiring together to get him into trouble (paranoia). These arguments continued and escalated as he continued to fail his classes, refused to do school work, and “forget” to do his chores. So much so that I threatened to take his phone away. That was apparently too much for him. He got in my face and threatened to leave. As my eyes tears up I picked up my phone and told him I would call the cops if he left.
He left. I called.
That was the lowest moment in my life. It was a couple hours later that he came home, realizing that he had no where to go. It was this night that I realized I had lost my son somehow and although I’ve tried, I cannot pin point that moment he left. The moment before his eyes glazed over from the medication, the moment before he lot his motivation for life, that last moment where he had empathy or sympathy for someone else, that last genuine laugh or smile.
I don’t know whether to blame my mom, the doctors, his girlfriend, or myself. I feel like I should be blaming somebody. I still somehow find myself angry at those two women back in the 4th grade, who honestly just saw something long before I did. More Guilt.
I’m angry that my husband wasn’t around to know the Anthony that I remember. He was already slipping away the first time they met. I think that if he knew Anthony back then he might better understand my pain, he wouldn’t be so harsh. I sometimes take it out on him. I don’t mean to but I can’t help it. I wish he could love him like I do. More Guilt.
I’m angry that my younger two children want nothing to do with their older brother. I know it’s because of the way that he treats them. I understand it but it makes me angry. More guilt.
What became of my mom? After a decade of not speaking to her, I discovered she was in a nursing home. She’s unable to carry a conversation, walk or take care of herself. I’m now in charge of her medical care. How did she get there? I’ll eventually get to that when writing my story. But In the past 3 years I’ve only gone to see her 3 times. I take care of everything she needs from the office or over the phone. I just can’t do it after everything she put me through. More Guilt.
But through all this, even more has happened. While sitting at my youngest son’s baseball game during the district tournament I got a phone call from Anthony. His girlfriend is pregnant. It has been a bumpy road over the last 4 weeks which resulted in her moving across town and them breaking up. But they are both excited for the baby and she has an ultrasound tomorrow. He has a job, that Mariah helped him get, and he’s working 5 days a week. School is about to start back up again and he is taking his senior year in high school online. I’m going to be a 35 year old grandma.
I sometimes sit and contemplate taking him off all of his medication, hoping that everything goes back to the way it’s supposed to be. Happy. They were wrong about the Tourette’s, so why not this? And maybe he should have never started the medication at all…. because maybe the hallucinations were from the medication for the Tourette’s. Do I do it and hope there’s no major side effects? That he doesn’t hurt anyone or himself? That he doesn’t lose his job that he so desperately needs? That he doesn’t fail out of school? Maybe this is all my fault to begin with for going against my gut and letting the doctors medicate him. More guilt.
As hard as I tried to be the best parent that I could because of the crappy examples I had growing up, I feel like I failed at being his parent. I will forever be grateful for the time I had with Anthony before all the doctors and the medication. And even though I know that I will never get that time back, I hope that one day when he’s grown he comes across this story and is able to understand that I love him, because I don’t think he hears me when I say it.
eternally broken hearted