A year ago today, I was a shell of a person. I was numb from my tingling head to the tips of my small toes. Somehow, I managed to drive aimlessly around my little town for six hours straight, finding myself on streets I never knew even existed, and wishing I had a destination that resembled the tiniest bit of happiness. How...did I get to this point? How was this my reality? How was this my life, this day, right then? How. I didn't sleep the night before, not even for an hour. I flipped restlessly from one side to the other with my stomach in knots and my mind like a torture chamber of a circus. I. Could not. Calm down. I cried until my eyes were almost swollen shut and I was so queasy that I was actually begging my own body to throw up...to get all of my sadness, emptiness, desperation and newest found fear out together...once and for all. Literally my entire year, from month to fucking torturous month, was full of the most confusing, most depressing, emptiest and saddest times I've had in my life so far. That speaks volumes because despite what most people think; I am the simplest, most positive, silver-lining finding girl I know. There were good days dotted throughout it all, and I made sure my memory jar was filling up with happy moments but the biggest highlight didn't come until August when I found my work home. What an amazing blessing that has been, and I owe every bit of it to Mel and to God.
I don't believe in chance.
Things were looking up for me. My job was...fabulous. There are no other words for it. My bosses could not have been better, more fun and positive people and I needed that so badly. Those things rub off on others and my God, did I need some rubbing of positive vibes. My daughter was doing so well in college as Vice President of Public Relations for her sorority. I never believed in those affiliations but it's what she wanted in her life at that time and I supported her. Of course, as with all other things she ever set her mind to, she excelled with it all. I was more than proud. My son was also doing well in school too. The year before, he struggled with some classes once he got to middle school and it broke my heart to see it happening. He needed help and he needed stability and my single goal was to make sure it happened. Well, this is how it all started...
When he was in first grade, his teacher and the school started in with the bullshit of how "he's such a sweet, sweet boy but he just doesn't stay on task..." or "Some days he stays on task and other days he's daydreaming and only wants to talk about dinosaurs, wrestling or super heroes." So my kid liked WWE and Marvel more than common core math that even confused me, and he had an imagination that took him outside of all that. I couldn't change that. All I knew was that we were having regular meetings with the school and their "board" way too often, with them suggesting I medicate him for ADHD. I was beyond furious because I knew that a diagnosis of that disorder cannot be determined until after the age of six. Even then, it is sketchy because some children develop quicker or slower than others. I had the diagnosis book...I knew the criteria...I had a counseling Master's Degree... and they were not going to pull one over on me. At the very last meeting I personally attended, I became black out angry and had to leave the room because I started screaming all this at them and I got dizzy to the point of fainting. My husband dealt with the rest of that day, and I never attended another meeting again. No one was going to patronize me, speak to me condescendingly, and criticize my six year old child with a slap of a pretty serious diagnosis.
Over the next several years, it was the same situation: One minute he was totally on his game and the next; he totally was not. Naturally, because I'm a cancer, I blamed myself for that. He turned five three weeks before kindergarten started. He was really still just a baby. I knew I had to wait to send him if his birthday was in September or later, but I didn't know I had the option to wait a year on my own. I really never knew that. I shouldn't have sent him yet but I did, and I wish I could go back and change that. I wonder if it would have been different.
His successes and struggles with school continued, with some days, quarters and years being great with others being difficult. I took him to the doctor, and he was always teetering on the brink of ADHD but not enough for an official diagnosis. He didn't have hyperactivity at all; his issues were only attention-related. By middle school, it was affecting his grades enough that I decided to give medication a try. I chose one that was quick release, that he didn't have to take on the weekends or over the summer, and that he could just stop taking if he had a reaction. The turning point was one night when I tucked him in to bed. He seemed sad and I asked him what was wrong. He started crying, and his sad words just all came out at once. He told me that he hated his brain because he couldn't always think straight at school. He said he felt different than the other kids and he felt stupid. He said he didn't like that he was different and he wanted to fit in that way and be the same. That is what changed my mind.
In one sense, I felt like the biggest piece of crap mom for giving him anything that could be remotely addictive because of my horrible family history but in the other sense, my heart literally hurt to know that it was affecting his self-esteem. Once he was asleep that night, I sat with my head on my knees in the bath and just cried. My heart was breaking for him and I was backed against a wall. My only other choice was to let him fail and I was not going to do that. His lack of staying on task...I blamed myself for that too. I was never diagnosed with ADHD but I fit some of the criteria. I'm a daydreamer and I have to have multiple tasks going at once. I didn't do great in school and I only aced my way through two degrees in college because they were topics that interested me. My son could do the same if it was all about wrestling, games and superheroes. That wasn't an option so back to the doctor we went. Because he was always teetering on the brink of a diagnosis, the doc and I had a long and serious talk about everything that had been going on. He gave me the least altering, side-effect-having options of medication to help concentration, I chose one, and we rolled with it. It made the biggest difference the rest of sixth grade and part way into seventh. C's an D's became straight A's and he made the honor roll. He was so excited and proud of himself and I was beaming! I had a normal job, we had a routine in place at home. I thought everything was finally going to be normal and good. August was my turning point with my new career and things were going to start looking up now. Right? No. Not yet. Not even close.
On Halloween, his friend got grounded and was unable to trick or treat with us at the last minute. We'd gone out the night before too so I didn't think it would be horrible to either just stay in or take him out on his own. He wanted to go out for a while so that's what we did. We're best friends so he wanted me to walk and hang out with him. I wasn't going to turn that down for one second. When we were done, we grabbed fast food and headed home. He got his laptop out and started on some homework. When he opened it up, the page of his grades was on the screen and I saw that all of his A's had dropped two letter grades and he had two F's. When I clicked on them, it said they were due to incomplete assignments and assignments not turned in. What? Why? We had a conversation about this and it got kind of heated. Every day he had been telling me he didn't have homework so he had been lying to me. That was strike one. He was just on the honor roll two weeks before and let it slip right away for what? That was strike two. In the middle of our talk, he broke down and started crying so hard. We didn't make it to strike three. He told me about some things that had been happening on the bus with older kids bullying him. He told me about different kids in P.E. class who called him chicken legs and puny arms. He told me that bigger kids were making fun of him for being small and it made him feel like he wasn't cool and that when he walked through the halls, everyone was staring at him in a bad way. He also talked to me about some things that made him sad about his relationship with his dad. That confused me beyond words because they have always been close. He was hurting though, but that was a part we COULD fix.
Then he told me that he knows why kids hurt or kill themselves, because it's hard having that feeling all day at school. He said when kids who get bullied hurt themselves, they do it to show the bullies how bad it really is and what they're really doing to people. ........Every ounce of color drained from my face and my entire body. I felt vomit come to my throat. I felt dizzy and faint. I felt the biggest pang of fear I have ever felt in my entire life. I was so numb I couldn't even cry. I couldn't speak. I couldn't even see straight. My son...the 6 lb 9 oz baby I brought into this world was now 12 years old, having feelings inside that were dark enough that he was telling me that sometimes he didn't want to be here anymore...and I couldn't even breathe. No. Not this. Anything but this. Run. Move. Find a place that is safe and start over. Where is that god damned bubble to put everyone I love in? Where is it??? Somehow I found air and I just started bawling. We were sitting on the living room floor facing each other. I held his face in my hands, touched my nose to his, looked him in the eyes, and told him how much I loved him. I told him that if he and his sister aren't here, I don't want to be here anymore either. I told him I am his best friend and I would do anything in this world to fix this if I could but inside, I knew I was helpless. I, alone, couldn't fix this. That is the most horrible feeling. I told him my own past at his very age, going through the same thing. I told him that being thin is healthier on his body than being too heavy. I told him to show me a perfect kid who isn't too skinny, too fat, too short, too tall, who has the perfect hair and ears and anything else under the sun that is ever made fun of. I told him that this wasn't about me but I was begging him to stay here...that I needed him, we needed him, the world needed him. I told him that hurting himself or dying would make a bully feel guilty for a week but they'd go on living their best life while the friends and families of the child who is lost will go on...and that it would be punishing those friends and families more than anyone else at all, forever, and ever. He promised me that he wouldn't do anything like that. He said we could go to the gym and he could work on things that way and he promised to use me as someone to talk to since I'd been through it and knew first-hand how hard it was. The next few days, we did go to the gym. He was in an unusually good mood, and he used his study hall to get all of his homework caught up and turned in. All of his grades became A's and B's again. On November 2nd, I came home from work, we went to the gym, we had dinner, and he was playing a racing game online. His dad came home and handed him a letter he'd written about how much he loved him, about the day he was born, about how they are best friends, and about how amazing and important he is. His dad wanted him to have something physical he could hold and read and look at whenever he wanted, and I thought that was a pretty nice gesture. He read it and gave his dad a hug, said, "I love you daaaaah" in his goofy voice they talk to each other in, and played his race game again with his friend online. It was close to bedtime so I told him to get in the shower. His typical response is, "Okay, wait," so I got that from him once. The second time I told him, it was quiet. I went in the living room and his headset was on the chaise. His dad's letter was next to it. He actually listened to me after the first try? Hmm. I went upstairs to say goodnight and he was sitting on his bed, with his room looking like a tornado as always. He was separating all of his M&M's and Skittles into color coded piles like he always does and I said, "Whatcha doin Bubs? You need a shower." In his goofy voice and with a smile, he goes, "I know maaah...I will in a minute." That's when I saw a faint pink line on the side his neck. The kid gets marks from his backpack and every tiny little scratch, even from fabric, but my gut said something was wrong. The numbness was back and so was the vomit in my throat. I couldn't even swallow. I was in Hell and I was living every parent's worst nightmare. I sat down and quietly asked him what was wrong with his neck. I looked around and I saw his phone cord on the floor in his pile of action figures. It was always there, but I knew...I knew what the mark on his neck was. His eyes got big, and he started panicking, saying that he wouldn't hurt himself and that he didn't try to. He was afraid and I knew that. As calmly as I could, I took his hand and held it and I softly said, "Let's go talk to dad..." At this point, and as a counselor, I would have had to recommend to any other parent that they take their child to Kettler but this was my child and all rules were off the table. I knew if we did that, it would do more damage than good to leave him somewhere without us for any amount of time. No...I couldn't do that, so what COULD I do?! The three of us were up for hours talking and talking...We talked through all of this until he fell asleep. We talked through his dealings at school and on the bus, and why on earth he thought his dad sometimes didn't love him. We talked about the good purpose he, and every single other person on this planet is capable of and has, and we told him how much he is needed always. I told him we could move and start over, we could live closer to my work and to my brother and our other family out that way. He firmly said, "No! I like my friends and I like my school." I was confused...but I was glad he wasn't isolated and that he never got to a point of not wanting to go to school...He always wanted to go to school. He told us the bullying wasn't always the same kids and it wasn't happening every day. He said it only happened sometimes and he would ignore it but then it would all pile up at once and make him sad and upset. He said that's what happened on Halloween and tonight. He told me that he loved me and would never, ever want to hurt me or his family that way. He said he would always talk to me if he was having a hard day. I felt better with those promises but promises from anyone anymore were faint and this was my child. I was restless and scared. I felt better but not calm, and sleep was not even an option because I was too uneasy, so...
A year ago today, I was a shell of a person. I was numb from my tingling head to the tips of my small toes. Somehow, I managed to drive aimlessly around my little town for six hours straight, finding myself on streets I never knew even existed and wishing I had a destination that resembled the tiniest bit of happiness. How...did I get to this point? How was this my reality? How was this my life, this day, right then? How. It isn't anymore.
Today, we've been prepping to paint the inside of our new house. So much changes in a year...so much. Some way, some how we came out of that Hell. I prayed a lot...a lot. We had a support system. He and I are still best friends and we've gotten closer than ever. It's always on my mind, and I've had an uneasy stomach this week just from memory's sake, but things are better now. He is the one sticking up for his younger best friend who gets bullied for being too heavy. He is the one who's playing that strong role for someone else who is hurting. He is the one who's using his own experiences from back then to make himself a stronger person. It still happens sometimes...the skinny comments...but he's got enough of my sass in him that he's found the guts to stick up for himself, even if he feels crappy inside, and he told me the other day that the handful of random kids who bullied him last year are his friends now and they go out of their way to say "hi" to him. I'm always still scared because nothing can undo the past, but I'm so proud of him and I hope he continues to grow in good ways from it all. This experience is something I've only shared with a few people for so many reasons. It's still hard to talk about and this was not easy or quick to write because it is now the 4th, so it took me two days, but it's important. Too many kids are being lost senselessly and it can be avoided... It can be so simply avoided. Stay close to your kids whether you're with them every day or not. Teach them to be confident. Teach them to help others be confident. Teach them what compassion is. Teach them to have feelings for others and not just for themselves. This world is way too self-absorbed and selfish. Teach them not to be assholes. -Sher