The same goes for flushing the toilet. A 21-year-old man won't flush the toilet in My home. Does he also flush at work, home, and friends' places? Of course, he does. They matter. We do not.
Today he had the gall to yell at me and tell me to fuck off because I emphasized that it was a condition of living here freely, hanging up afterward. It brought up such rage that I staggered about until I found the old shovel within reach and repeatedly smashed it against the ground and tree until it was in pieces. The shovel, not the tree. Still, though, poor tree. It was an innocent bystander.
The frustrations and disbelief are overwhelming. His mom exhibited the same constant, consistent set of unrealistic expectations. She failed to be grateful for all we had and all I provided and honor my need for a reasonably orderly home.
I needed a release at the moment of the explosive physical tension. It's a horrible thing to experience the need to pummel a punching bag to expel the coursing anger, and fury can be debilitating.
This sort of situation makes me at least capable of acknowledging that people pushed "too far" can snap. And that "too far" is variable. No two individuals have the same boundaries for what is "too far," as our "lines" get crossed and are specific to our experiences.
I know this, and until recently, I have been managing my expectations and moving the line with graceful adaptation to aspects of things beyond my control. Yet, over the past few weeks, my tolerance has diminished. While we were in Palm Springs, he took Jen's keys and used the BMW without permission. He had just been told that he could not drive our cars because he is uninsured. We have no coverage should an accident occur. Not to mention the outright abuse of my letting him use my car under false pretenses several weeks ago.
I guess these factors have been chipping away at my willingness to ignore or turn the other cheek. All of this is a zen-stoic challenge of epic scale. At this point, I am back to seeing him in a highly negative light, as his treatment of me, of us, of our home, given our support and generosity, well, it's pure abuse. He is emotionally and verbally abusive. Why would I want that? Why should I tolerate that?
Whatever progress might be made in his coming to realize and recognize his role in this is a "hope" but not a certainty. And I have nothing left to give.