Thrown For A Loop

As I type this, at 2:45 in the morning, I am angry. Enraged. Also confused, sad, discouraged and conflicted. I am shaking, I am teary-eyed, my stomach hurts and my heart is pounding. I've been thrown for a loop.

Have you ever wondered what that actually means? I tried to check it out. It seems to be an idiom that is primarily used in the United States and rarely heard elsewhere, and I ran across a few vague statements that it may have origins in the sport of boxing. As far as where it came from, that was about the best I could figure out. What it means, though, according to en.Wiktionary.org (who seemed to offer the simplest and most on-point definition) is this: "to confuse or disorient, to throw off, to mix up." That does seem to sum it up. So yes, I've definitely been thrown for a loop. And it's been going on for some time now - I live constantly with the pounding heart, the feeling of lost bearings, the confusion. And it only gets worse as time goes by.

So who did this? Who threw me for a loop (or two or three)? My foster son. The boy I took in as a teenager, loved and raised as my own, got off of drugs and out of a life of crime and into college. The young man who became not only part of our family, but a deeply integral part of it. So entrenched with our home, household and family that when he left a couple of months ago, we were all thrown for a loop. As were all of his friends, and my friends, and our friends' friends, and pretty much everyone who knew him.

It wasn't just that he left, though. I've had kids grow up and leave. That's not earth-shattering news, especially since he was 21 years old by then. No, it was much more complicated than that. For context, let me explain that this young man, over the years, had become extremely close to our whole family (my father and my aunt even helped pay for items he needed for school, and he was included on the Christmas lists of even my more distant relatives). He sung our praises at every opportunity to everyone he knew. He regarded me as not only his "mom", but as his best friend and "the only person that I can talk to about absolutely anything". He credited me for having turned his life around and for being "the person who has influenced [him] most in [his] life". These sorts of statements had been coming out of his mouth for years, and continued even as close as two weeks before he left. To be even more specific, three weeks before he left he approached me and pointed out that he believed I needed more "support", as my son had been in and out of hospitals for months and I was beside myself with strain. He said he wanted to be the one to help - he wanted to take me on nature hikes and to museums, expressing that he thought I needed to get out more. He said he wanted to be a friend to me when I needed one, he said that he thought I had too much on my plate, and he wanted to help. He asked me if I would please trust him. He was a grown-up now. He could be my friend. That's what he wanted, he said.

And then, within a matter of days, something happened. I do not know what it was and I may never know. I only know that he started making comments that he wished to move out of the house. I argued with him gently, being concerned that he would not be able to finish school (he was, at that point, at the end of his sophomore year at Arizona State University). But then he took things a step further and told me that he not only wanted to move out, but he wanted nothing to do with this family any more. He actually said that he would rather live in a car than in this house. He told me, "This family is not the center of my life anymore. This family isn't even close to the center of my life. This family is a tiny, little side issue in my life." We just weren't important to him anymore, he said. I was, of course, stunned. I pressed for an explanation - anything that would make some sense of what was happening with him - and I got none. He simply stated that he had "changed his mind" and I should just "deal with that" and gave very vague responses to any questions. When I pressed, he became angry. I'd never seen him angry at me, not ever. I was shocked, couldn't believe what I was seeing and hearing. When I finally pressed him enough on the issue, just trying to understand, he grew very angry and stormed out of our house with no explanation, no apology, no "thank you very much for taking care of me for five years", nothing.

So I cried for days. On Easter, which came just after he left, I did not get out of bed and join my family. On Mother's Day I stayed in bed as well. I could not face family events without this person who I consider my son - at least without him and lacking any understanding of why.

Okay, enough context.

So, I didn't hear from him at all for a while, and then over the last couple of months there have been occasional encounters (although I have not seen him in person). A few text messages, an e-mail, a few phone conversations. Never, though, an apology or even a gentler tone of voice. No, quite the opposite in fact. With each communication he becomes angrier, more rude and demanding, more disrespectful. It has reached the point where it seems he is literally going out of his way to be hateful to us and hurt our feelings. The whole family - thrown for a loop. A series of loops, actually, because each new contact feels like a brand new punch in the gut. Each time I don't think it's possible - I think I will hear my old son and buddy on the phone - and then I am subjected to shouting and cursing and rudeness and blatant disrespect. What follows is that gut-churning, surreal, this-can't-be-happening feeling that hurts every bit as much as a sucker punch. Even worse is when I meet up with cold, cold indifference. "I don't care about you anymore. Sorry." Said as flatly as if he were telling me that the freeway is closed this morning, too bad.

Don't think that I tolerate being mistreated. No, I end those phone calls when he gets that way and I don't answer rude text messages and I've e-mailed him - just in case he didn't "get it" - that I will not tolerate being spoken to in that manner. I got no response to that and didn't hear from him for about a month. When I did, it was as hateful as ever. More so, actually.

That last time that he was so rude to me and I ended the call, he did later apologize and say, "I'm just not myself right now." Whether he was referring to our current conversation or his behavior over the last few months, I didn't know and I didn't ask. But since he apologized, I helped him with the issue he'd called about. I sent him some things and I sent him some money.

Now before you jump all over me for doing that, let me explain myself: I am trying as hard as I can to make it easier for him to come back and apologize whenever he pulls his head out of his proverbial backside. I realize this could be years, but I am a patient person. My approach is this: I will not respond to disrespect, but I will reward even the smallest "progress" or "good behavior" (i.e. an apology) because I do not want him to dig his own hole so deep that he burns this bridge entirely. I guess I am protecting him from himself in a sense, but I have been living with the hope that one day he would come to his senses, and when that day comes, I don't want him to think his relationship with me is beyond repair. So, when he behaves like a respectful son, I respond by behaving like a mom. The message? "I am your mom and I love you unconditionally, even though I'm hurt and angry. In that light, while I won't accept disrespect, I will be there for you when you're ready to behave appropriately." I hope that makes sense to y'all. I could expand upon it and clarify further, but I'm not trying to write War and Peace here.

So... Why am I so upset tonight? Because once again he's reared his ugly attitude and it just seems to get worse and worse. My daughter saw him somewhere tonight, and his behavior toward her was childish and rude and deplorable. She was so shocked and taken aback by this stranger who was once part of her family that she had to step outside and call me on the phone. She was in tears. I offered to come and get her, but she declined.

Now as I sit here, I am struggling. Struggling with my anger toward him while I still love him as a son, and with the conflict that comes with those competing emotions. Furious that he would treat my daughter this way. Gritting my teeth and tightening my jaw and clamping down with my teeth on that last thread of the belief I hold in loving our children unconditionally, biological children or not. Wondering who this person is, where the boy I raised into adulthood is hiding, or if he exists at all and whether this stranger has taken his place. Struggling to understand how that can happen. Frustrated at having pieces of information with which to try and put this puzzle together - information that could only come from him, and he won't share.

Prior to these events I had never gone more than 48 hours without seeing him in the five years he lived in our home. Even those times were only when he took a weekend to go visit his grandmother in Mexico, and even on those trips he would call me at least once - of not twice - every day. And now I have not seen him in months, don't even know where he is or where he sleeps. And as far as I am concerned, I haven't spoken to him at all. I've spoken to the pod person who now seems to occupy his body and speak with his mouth, but after the events when things went downhill I would say I've never spoken to my actual son again.

I hope he's not gone. I hope this new person isn't who he is. I hope, I hope, I hope. I cannot wrap my brain around it. And so tonight, as yet one more incident has occurred where he has shown himself to now be a hateful, selfish and unkind person, the struggle becomes harder. I have never, ever turned my back on one of my kids, cut them out of my life, dis-owned them or any other such nonsense. This includes ALL my kids, not must my biological ones. I don't believe in that - or I didn't used to. I believe that family is always there for you, even when you screw up or behave badly. I believe that a mother loves unconditionally, even if she doesn't accept or tolerate bad behavior. And I have always believed very strongly that I need to model this especially well for the kids who come to me from families who could not be trusted. I always know they'll test me, and I always pass that test. You can trust me, I will be here always, I will not reject you no matter what.

But this one... His tests (if that's what they are) are stretching me to limits I've never seen before. I love him so much that I'm heartbroken to see him going through something - whatever it is - and not be able to reach out to him. Yet I'm so angry at him that I feel I could scratch his eyes out. And so, when a new incident occurs, I shake and cry and pound my fists and clench my jaw and feel like utter confusion could cause me to jump right out of my skin. Then come the questions , the doubt. Am I really a good mom? Does this happen to a mom who has done the right things, or did I make some terrible mistake? Or, even worse, should I reconsider my very deepest beliefs about the human race - that people are worth helping, that there is good in everyone if we can just help them reach down and find it, that making sacrifices for the good of others is a worthwhile investment in the good of the human race. If this is what people are capable of, if this is common (I don't know - is it?), then is it all worth it?

Thrown for a loop. And then another and another and another, each one making it harder and harder for me to hold firmly onto my belief in unconditional love for our children. I am clinging, really clinging. But stretched nearly to the breaking point.

A Day In The Life...

Ever wonder what one of my “typical” days looks like (if there is such a thing)? Well, probably you haven’t, but I’m going to tell you anyway. It’s just part of my recent commitment to blogging more often. So bear with me.

Let’s see… Right now I am house-sitting, dog-sitting and elderly-father-sitting for a friend of mine. My older kids are on spring break at the moment and out on road trips, anyway, and my younger son has been in the hospital (one of those things I can’t talk about). So, there’s no one at my house except the cats and dogs. Which, of course, I have to also make sure are cared for even though I’m doing all this “sitting” (why do we use that word when it is so misleading, sounding so easy?), so I do a lot of driving back and forth between our house and the house where I’m staying. With me so far?

So, I was up until about 3 a.m. last night (well, technically this morning I suppose) doing laundry and handling some matters regarding my son. This morning I rose all bright and cheery (total lie, but that’s okay – we’ll just keep it between us) at 7:30 to make sure that my friend’s father – we’ll call him “Mr. B” – took his morning meds. After that I actually tried to go back to bed for about half an hour because I was really tired, but my friend’s dogs were having none of that nonsense. So I just decided to hit the ground running and take on the day.

Let the dogs out to do their thing while I ran another load of laundry and washed last night’s dishes. Then I hopped in the car and drove over to my own house to do yard work that one of my kids was supposed to do before taking off on his road trip. Do I sound bitter there? If not, I should, so try to “hear” it that way. Because I was rather irritated. Oh, he also didn’t take out the trash. But I digress…

Over at the ol’ homestead I fed and watered our own pets and generally cleaned up the joint. Then I had to spend some time on the phone making doctor’s appointments and talking to the insurance adjuster about our roof. Oh, and this was fun – I had to return a call to CPS (Child Protective Services) regarding a matter with one of the kids, again being something I can’t talk about. I just LOVE dealing with CPS. But it goes with the territory and this worker has actually been pretty nice and of at least average intelligence, so it hasn’t been so bad this time around.

Then, while at home, I packed up some items that I’d sold from my online booth (Rummage Rampage at Bonanza.com – don’t forget to visit!) and then ever-so-smoothly dropped the whole stack of them all over the driveway when I tried to be super cool and carry them all out to the car at once. But what’s a day without the neighbors laughing at ya, right? Headed to the post office after that, and on the way received a phone call from one of my “strays”, who now lives in Vegas. She’s in town, needs to talk, wants to see me. Okay. I will make time, and I’ll call her back, I say.

Headed for the Post Office. Line out the door, as usual. One guy working the counter. Ah, well, I am nothing if not patient (which means sometimes I really am nothing – lol). I’d wanted to use the machine to pay for my postage, but it was down, out of paper. So I stood in line with my 20-foot tall stack of boxes. Well, it was more like three feet tall, but when I’m crabby I like to exaggerate and get sympathy. Heh.

Left the Post Office and headed to the Pharmacy to pick up some prescriptions. Also to talk to Allen – my favorite pharmacist because he’s always straight with me, even more than the doctors are – about some new meds they’re putting my kid on that are kind of hardcore. Allen tells me these really are the best ones for the condition in question, so I am satisfied with that. Pick ‘em up, do a little grocery shopping for dinner (because my pharmacy is in the grocery store), and head out to the parking lot to return that phone call to my Vegas stray. ‘Cause I can’t (and shouldn’t, anyway) talk on the cell phone while I’m driving. By the way, I don’t normally even have a cell phone – this one is borrowed because my friend whose house/dogs/dad I’m sitting wanted me to have one while I was staying at her place.

Talk to my Vegas stray for about twenty minutes and make arrangements to visit with her tomorrow at a Starbucks. Meanwhile, in my head, I just hope I can really afford Starbucks. LOL. But I’m not going to be at my house and I don’t want her coming to where I’m staying because the four dogs here are relentless barkers at strangers, so Starbucks it is. Count the change in the ashtray. Looks like I’m good as long as I get the smallest drink they sell. Ha ha.

Headed back to the house/dogs/dad sitting locale. It’s about 4:30 by now, and I have until 5:30 to make dinner for “Mr. B” and carry it across the street to him. After that I will have to leave to visit my son at the hospital, so I’m kind of on a time crunch. “Mr. B” is a very nice old man, so he’ll want to talk for a minute and ask how my son is doing. Better make that dinner ready by 5:15.

Honey mustard glazed pork tenderloin, garlic and parsley red potatoes, and mixed vegetables with cheese sauce. In 45 minutes – yep, I’m good. Make a plate for “Mr. B”, cover it in foil, and head across the street. He chats for a minute, which I don’t mind, then asks if I will pick up a newspaper for him. Add that to the “to do” list… I tell him I will do that, but probably won’t be back until late, so I will leave it on his doorstep – I promise.

I could really use a shower today, but that’s not in the cards.

Throw on a clean shirt so I won’t smell like someone who’s been sweating over an oven in the kitchen, and head off to the hospital. It’s waaaay across town and traffic is a nightmare. But that’s okay. I am nothing if not patient…

Visit my son. He seems to be improving, so that is good. Talk to a lot of the other kids there who don’t get visitors often (many are in CPS custody and only see their case workers – sad). The kids there flock to me like – well, I don’t know what like, but they flock to me. A few were calling me “mom” by the second night I visited. They are so starved for attention, so sad. Just my taking a moment to look at a picture they drew or praise a poem they wrote gets them all excited. Wish I could take them all home, but of course I can’t. I do give them all my blog address, though, so they can keep in touch with me in the future if they choose to, and if they need anything that I can help with (hate ending a sentence with a preposition, but whatever). Next, I have a talk with my son’s nurse, and I’m off.

It’s 7:15 p.m. by now. I haven’t eaten or showered still today, but that’s okay because eating and showering is for sissies. I head back to my friend’s house, where at 7:30 it is time to check in with “Mr. B” and make sure he takes his medication on time. Of course he asks about my son, bless his heart. Then I head back across the street, feed and water my friend’s dogs, and warm up some of the leftovers from the dinner I made earlier (okay, guess I am a sissy, because I did finally decide I had to eat). I sit down at the computer to eat my late dinner and check e-mails. Several to answer, several I have to put off because they’re inquiring about items that I don’t have here with me, so I make a note to myself that I will find the answers to their questions when I’m back at my own house tomorrow. Add it to the huge list of things to do when I’m go back there. Then I get to work: Do some online research on a few things I brought here to this house with me, things that I’ve marked, “What the heck is this?” I find a few answers, set the rest aside to work on some more later. Type up a couple of descriptions for items to list in my booth, tweet about a few things in my booth (find me on Twitter @thefreelancemom – yay!), answer a few more e-mails that have come in, upload some ready items to my booth, “update” my booth (that’s what you have to do on Bonanza.com whenever you’ve added new stuff). In-between all this, I can’t resist the urge, of course, to check my Facebook a couple of times and throw out a smart remark here and there. Ha ha. Then I make a post to my Facebook fan page for my booth, just so I can make sure everyone knows I’m still here because I haven’t been saying much there lately. Go back and look at my booth, realize a couple of items didn’t come out quite right when I uploaded them, so I spend about 20 minutes trying to figure out how to fix that problem. Get it fixed. My back hurts from sitting in this chair. Time to get away from the desk for a while.

I’ve brought a few boxes with me of stuff that was donated. Take a little while to sort through the stuff. I will be dropping of whatever is suitable at the Tumbleweed Drop-In Center in the morning (theoretically – if no crises arise). The rest I sort into “I can sell this in my booth” or “Goodwill” (which doesn’t mean it’s something bad, just might be a clothing item that missing the size tag or something). Naturally I make a mess while sorting all this stuff out, so then I have to clean the mess. ‘Cause this ain’t my house. LOL.

By this point it’s almost 11 p.m. I call and check on each of my road-trippin’ college kids, because you know they’re not going to call and check in with Mom. And Mom is always going to worry, even if they are “grown up”.

Once they’ve been confirmed as safe and either relatively sober or using a designated driver, I take a little “me time”. Fifteen minutes of doing this “mindfulness” meditation thing that my therapist has me doing (you didn’t think I lived this life and wasn’t in therapy, did you?). At first I thought it sounded silly, but I have a lot of respect for my therapist and I try to be open-minded, so I gave it a shot. Been doing it for about a month now, and I actually find it really helpful. I was surprised at that. It helps me get focused and not me a scatter-brain so much. So, once I’ve done that for fifteen minutes and now I’m feeling all focused and everything…

Back to work. Oh, but wait – not yet because my mother is calling. I didn’t call her after visiting my son at the hospital, and she wants an update about him. My bad. I fill her in, and then get to work. More work on my booth items, which you don’t want to read about in detail. After that, I have some correspondence to catch up with; I’ve been trying to update the info on my resource list for homeless and at-risk youth, so I’ve been communicating with people at the different agencies that I mention there, making sure all the info is still accurate (it isn’t, which is why I haven’t re-posted it in a while).

At midnight, I tell myself I’m going to bed early (midnight is early for me). But then, as soon as I’m in my jammies, the phone starts ringing. My foster son wants to know if I can help him some more with his FAFSA when he gets back (that’s college financial aid stuff, for you who aren’t familiar). Of course I can, I tell him. I don’t feel like being crabby at him, so I don’t mention that he could just have easily asked me that question earlier than midnight. Next call is from one of my strays who now lives in California. She wants an update on my son, also. She gets off work really late, so I can’t get mad at her for calling at this hour. Besides, she probably figured I’d be up anyway. I usually am.

Now it’s almost 2 a.m. and I’m having a hard time falling asleep. I read for a while. Then I try again to doze off, but my friends dogs love me way too much and decide they must fight over positions in the bed with me. Once I’m comfortable, the last of the dogs wanders in and needs help up on the bed because he’s old and can’t make the jump. I get myself up again, lift him onto the bed, and get comfy again. Except I forgot to call in refills on my own medications (having been focused on my kids’ prescriptions). So I get up and make that call while I’m thinking about it; otherwise I will forget. Oh, and I’d better take out the trash or the dogs will dig into it in the middle of the night. Do that. Hear the phone ring again and ignore it. If it’s an emergency they’ll stalker-call me. If it doesn’t ring again within the next few minutes, then it can wait until morning.

So again, having told myself I’d go to bed “early”, I hit the sack and start to doze at three in the morning. Will need to be up at 7:30 to take care of meds for “Mr. B”. Also let the dogs out so they don’t pee everywhere (my friend has the coolest mop, but I don’t love it that much). I’m also determined to get this stuff over to Tumbleweed tomorrow in addition to all the other errands I have to run and work I have to do and making my daily visit to my son, so I’ll need an early start. And so, the cycle continues…

I just hope that tomorrow I get time for a shower. For everyone’s sake.

And that, folks, was my day today. Fairly typical. Different issues, different crises and different things to do on different days, but the struggle for shower time and a decent night’s sleep is pretty much the norm. In any case, here’s a sample of my life for y’all. And I’ve kept my commitment to blogging more often. Yay!

(P.S. – For the record, I actually typed this yesterday and just got it posted today. Not that it matters, I’m just weird about making sure I’m accurate. LOL.)