parenthood, Uncategorized

My Son Left Me

Carrianne

I hate July. It is hot. My hair is dry from chlorine. I am several pounds heavier than I was in May. I have to shave my legs every day. I hate July.

I hate July 2018. This is the month my life changed forever. In many ways, this will be ok. Possibly better than ok. However, today, yet another wretched, heat-wrecked July day, nothing is ok.

My son left me. Kicking and screaming, quiet and subtle, conniving and plotting, my son left me. He is fourteen years old. Handsome, articulate, clever, witty, bright, cruel, empty, hateful, brainwashed. My son left me.

He and his father and stepmother have been planning this coup for longer than I can imagine. I have no sense of the timeline because my son has been taught the art of silent surveillance. He has been encouraged to observe my family and take back information to the enemy. My son’s stepmother always said she wanted him to be in the military. “Never too young to learn. Let’s use our broken homes as the practice field! That’s what I always say…” Do you think her cigarette was dangling out the side of her mouth when she said this?

The mission took shape in January and I noticed troops setting up camp on the hill. No doubt they had been strategizing long before I saw them. I have always been known for being naive. My son knows that. His father knows that. They both know everything. They enjoy telling me I know nothing.  

The culmination of variously sized battles that had been fought on and off for years was intensifying. My son, who left me, was a member of both armies. He claimed loyalty to whoever he was with.  He kept us all confused and made sure no one knew the other’s true course or next move. January came and he sideswiped me with an attack more heinous than usual. This involved calling the police and fabricating stories of how I beat and bite him. This was the day I knew my son would leave me. For good.

In March I was served with papers. In April I realized I would be broke from legal bills. In May I understood how much my son was told he wanted to leave me. In June I had a false sense of hope and loved my son. In July my son left me.

I lost the war. I fought a fight most told me to stop fighting. I lost. I am glad I did not listen. I fought like I should. I did what I was born to do. A mother fights. I fought. I lost. But, I tried. My son left me. I have no explanation. He has no explanation. He left me to leave me.

My son’s win was dirty and unjust. From his stepmother’s suffocating conditioning to the judge’s debauched and unconcerned ruling in the enemy’s favor. The win was dirty and unjust.

I do not miss my son. Not today. He was a poison in my family. He continuously contaminated each one of us with his merciless spite. I miss my son. Always. My son left me. I am not a mother. I am a mother who was told she cannot finish raising her son. Another person, unrelated to me or my son, told us we are not to be together and I am not allowed to raise him.

An abusive, manipulative, mean-spirited man-child will finish raising my son. My son left me.

I tried. I failed. I love my son so much.

Published by Carrianne

My relational rap sheet is extensive. I've been a wife, a mother, a stepmother, and a divorcee twice. I've learned more lessons that I wanted, participated in my fair share of bad decisions, am recovering from marrying fixer uppers and trying to still do good deeds when clearly no good deed goes unpunished. I am now married to a man who needs no fixing and we support rather than enable. I began journaling in the hopes that my son would read these words one day and hear my side of the story. Feeling alone, I published my thoughts on this blog and I have met so many parents who are in similar situations. The realization of people’s cruetly is overwhelming. Our children need us to love them, not use them as game pieces and collateral.

17 thoughts on “My Son Left Me”

      1. I say this a lot. I do things for others to please the Lord. He was the ultimate one punished for our good. It is our attitude that counts; do we do good because we believe in doing good or because we want a reward? If we believe in doing good then it doesn’t matter what happens to us; we are doing the right thing..

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  3. I’m so sorry you are dealing with this my friend…we often never know why we go through things we go through but there is always a purpose…I pray that your family will find peace until he comes to his senses someday🙏🏻

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  4. Your story is so familiar to what I experienced with my son just change circumstances. My heart goes out to you and praying God will reveal his plan to you that you might have peace in your heart.

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  5. I love you. Your heartache here is palpable. I wish I had healing words, comforting words… but there is nothing that will fix this at this point in time.

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  6. I’m sorry to learn that you’ve lost your son. Try not to hold any malice against those who have taken your son from you. Desire only the best for your son. He’s still too young to understand the choices he makes in life. Then leave the rest to time. Time has a strange way of righting the wrong.

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  7. I am praying for you dear friend, there is a reason for everything have faith. Hang in there, you are a great mother, you’ve done all you can do. The tables will turn in time, many, many women go through this, take comfort in knowing you are not alone.

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  8. I am sorry to hear your story. I can feel your pain as I too am losing a battle with a his biloigical parent and a step-parent that knows no boundaries when it comes to “parenting” my sons. It has amazed me what grown adults will do to manipulate and “brainwash” a child. I cringe when I think of losing my sons but yet I hold on to hope that as the years pass they will grow and mature to understand the wrongdoings and I can have that relationship I want with my sons back. I won’t ever lose that hope. No one can take that away from me. And my love for my boys will not ever change.

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  9. Oh how I loved reading this when you sent it, not sure why I left it hanging without a comment at the time. Sorry about that! I enjoy your writing and can’t imagine what your pain is. You know I struggle with a kid who can’t love too, it is crazy making to see how skilled he’s become at playing the roles of the drama triangle and pushing others into fhose roles to fulfill his own need to be a victim so that someone will rescue him, or at least feel sorry for him. This was one thing when he was a Fosterchild needing rescue, a whole nother after adoption when he started to attempt to cast us in the role of his abusers. The chaos makes sane people question their own sanity, I know I do. I still find myself wishing for attachment or seeing hope in moments of connection, despite knowing that it’s after connection that he lashes out the hardest, EVERY TIME.
    Maybe it’s inappropriate, maybe it’s because the grass always looks greener and I envy the break you are getting a little bit. Not the pain, not at all. And I know that you’re not getting a bresk from the chaos either, with your ex, and the battles over child support which I’m sure you’re having. But despite that, despite worry for your boy, I hope you’re finding moments of joy with your other kids, with your friends and mate, and moments of peace, not worried about locking your bedroom door at night or constantly looking over your shoulder like we do with our predictable unpredictables.
    Your heart is amazing, it deserves a season of relative peace .

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