How fucked up is that?
In the most Wallace Shawn of fashions, it's "inconceivable" to accept this is happening. But it is. It's perhaps as substantial in his, and my life's journey as her death was for each of us. He is unaware that this was done, even though I told him multiple times within the last 24 hours that it would happen. He's so accustomed to "empty threats" that this is just another "fuck off" moment in his head. In mine, it's the most genuine and aggressive stance I've ever taken, and it's being taken with a running start on my part. Because I'm that adamant about FINALLY drawing a firm, precise line in what I'm willing to accept.
Ironically, the whole dynamic boils down to a dysfunctional dynamic that's been fostered, if not nurtured, for years and years. Through his mom. Through the dysfunction of his upbringing. Through failure to be more assertive with his mom and, later, with him. Which makes it all the harder to do now.
Looking back last night at the years of journal entries capturing the frustrations and struggles around trying to manage him highlights the painful reality that, in a cliche fashion… it's not me; it's him.
During all of these years, I had just given up. I acquiesced to the situation, hoping that he might recognize the cruelty of his dismissive nature in light of my decades spent putting him and his interests at the top of my list of priorities.
After filing this restraining order today, holding back the tears as I waited for my number to be called in order to hand over the stack of forms, I returned home, wanting to avoid the confrontation I knew would happen. I got to avoid it for a while. I enjoyed a pleasant dinner with friends at Opa, But the night ended with him being coerced into talking to me via his sister. After a good deal of defiance, he conceded to installing Life360 but immediately logged out when I said it would not be OK for him to exceed 80 MPH on freeways. The whole point of this is safety – his and that of others – but he seems incapable of accepting any direction for me or anybody else. "Rules" are for other people, in his worldview. That's a massively foreign position from anything I ever thought or felt as a young adult. He stormed out of the house after insisting I return "his shit," which turned out to be his BB guns. I said, "I'm not giving weapons to somebody that's angry". Besides, I don't have them here anyway. It was just something to argue about.
I called the police after Lauren tracked him to the back of the High School and said he'd made statements about suicide. He returned and went to bed.
Ironically, the whole dynamic boils down to a dysfunctional dynamic that's been fostered, if not nurtured, for years and years. Through his mom. Through the dysfunction of his upbringing. Through failure to be more assertive with his mom and, later, with him. Which makes it all the harder to do now.
Looking back last night at the years of journal entries capturing the frustrations and struggles around trying to manage him highlights the painful reality that, in a cliche fashion… it's not me; it's him.
During all of these years, I had just given up. I acquiesced to the situation, hoping that he might recognize the cruelty of his dismissive nature in light of my decades spent putting him and his interests at the top of my list of priorities.
After filing this restraining order today, holding back the tears as I waited for my number to be called in order to hand over the stack of forms, I returned home, wanting to avoid the confrontation I knew would happen. I got to avoid it for a while. I enjoyed a pleasant dinner with friends at Opa, But the night ended with him being coerced into talking to me via his sister. After a good deal of defiance, he conceded to installing Life360 but immediately logged out when I said it would not be OK for him to exceed 80 MPH on freeways. The whole point of this is safety – his and that of others – but he seems incapable of accepting any direction for me or anybody else. "Rules" are for other people, in his worldview. That's a massively foreign position from anything I ever thought or felt as a young adult. He stormed out of the house after insisting I return "his shit," which turned out to be his BB guns. I said, "I'm not giving weapons to somebody that's angry". Besides, I don't have them here anyway. It was just something to argue about.
I called the police after Lauren tracked him to the back of the High School and said he'd made statements about suicide. He returned and went to bed.
Suicide over being told not to speed? Really? I call bullshit. Why he's incapable of accepting what, by anybody's standards, is a more-than-reasonable set of boundaries related to the safety and consideration of others is a sign of complete narcissism. Ironically, he called me that as he left the house.