This was a stormy day on the sea of Life. My son, as you all know from a previous post, has a chronic mental illness that kicks him into psychosis from time to time.
He’s not been well since 2012 and living with the dementia of his father and his father’s death, he has gotten worse.
I have always been there for my son. When he was first diagnosed, I was the one speaking to the doctors, taking him to appointments, making sure he took his medication, getting him to a psychologist for therapy, you name it, I did it.
He went 5 years without an episode but after moving to Prince Edward Island, leaving behind a love that was unrequited and going to college, he went into an episode again. It lasted for the usual 6 months with ups and downs. They would give him anti-psychotic medication and then once he was no longer manic, they would take him off it. He would go right back into psychosis. This happens every time he has an episode and did again in 2005, when he was put into a different psych ward on the Island where he had a different doctor who spotted that he is Schizo-Affective and Bipolar. The doctor told me that his thoughts “are tangled” and he committed him for 30 days involuntarily because of it. For 30 days we didn’t visit and I didn’t know what was happening except for occasional phone calls.
He has been abusive toward me for at least the last year. He follows me around the house and screams at me and looks like The Incredible Hulk except he’s red and not green. He is always short with me when I ask him anything. If I ask him to do anything like take out the garbage or anything, he snots off at me. I had a flat tire and asked him to use the compressor to fill it up so I could get it fixed. He did The Incredible Hulk act. I guess not.
After he called the police because I slapped him trying to get him to stop screaming at me, and had me arrested for Domestic Violence, he truly burnt a lot of bridges with me.
He told the police and his doctor in my hearing that “he fears for his life.” Seriously. The doctor said “Oh come on. I think there’s some projecting going on here.” No kidding. I was scared to death to have him in the house after that. I had to sleep with a chair under my doorknob because I have no lock and key.
I saw the doctor for my own benefit and she has treated me ever since. I see her once a month because I am having such a hard time dealing with the hate he has for me. Plus I am trying to start a business (which he objects to) and I have a serious committed relationship that he also HATES.
He called Thursday and said he wanted to talk to me. I went to the hospital. This was the first time in a week that I knew where he was. The visit was okay for 45 minutes and then he started yelling at me. He told me that he has a real problem with me being with someone since his father only died 5 years ago.
That’s interesting. His father died 3 years ago. He would not go to see his father from July until he died in December. He would not go the day his father was dying. He said no. He said I’ll remember him the way he was. I told him that his father would want to see HIM. That made no difference. What anyone else wants is not an issue for him.
I told him Thursday night that the operative word there is DEAD. I said Ben, your father is DEAD. I am no longer married to him and I am not going to dedicate myself to his memory the rest of my life. The whole point is, Ben doesn’t care about his father, Ben cares about Ben.
He told his psychiatrist that “She’s dumping me after I took care of her for 5 years.” Jesus spare me. In that 3 years, not 5, he spent at least half his Social Security Disability on himself, buying toys and computer parts and video game consoles and paying $200 a month to lease expensive software. Many months at the end of the month, there was no money for food. I paid the house payment and most of the bills. I spent nothing on myself. But now, he’s taken care of me.
I printed off his orders from Amazon for the last 4 years. And I will get his checking account records printed too. I will prove to who ever wants to know the he DID NOT provide anything for me except one week of food and he ate most of that. Plus he paid the phone/internet bill. Well, he was on the internet all the time and insisted we have fast internet so he could upload quickly. Whatever.
I found out yesterday by the pharmacy calling about filling a prescription that he was given in the first hospital he’s been in. It is for Type 2 Diabetes. So he has that. And that runs in the family. And then the cardiologist’s office called about his appointment. So he has heart trouble. He has very high blood pressure but would not go to the doctor to keep getting the medication. He would not go for a physical. I could make him do nothing. Heaven forbid I should try.
Today I gave in, even though Friday night he refused a visit from me. I called the hospital and spoke with someone on his ward. They came back and said they could neither confirm nor deny his presence there. Well, that means he’s also rescinded the release he signed last Thursday for me to participate in his care. All he wanted on Thursday was to boss me around, told me I had to break up with the love of my life, much in the same voice he told the police that I am a drunken slut.
You know, if only I had been. If only, since the age of 28 I had some fun. Instead of a marriage that was loveless and a child who is now treating me as if I am a pariah. If only.
So I pray. I pray hard. Because I can do nothing about this. Only God can do something. I do not care at this point to ever see him again. I do not want him near me. I hope I can not harbor anger within me. But wasting 38 years on this child is too much. I will not waste one more second.