Hopes for a future


The Weekly Adoption Shout Out

In the last couple of weeks I have struggled to get my head together and post anything.  Not because I haven’t written anything – there are several incomplete posts floating around in my folder waiting to be polished and published.

So what’s the problem? Have I just become lax and indecisive? Or, has life on ‘planet adoption’ sapped all the mental, emotional and physical energy out of me to the point where I can’t remember which end is ‘up’?

Well, I am definitely not firing on all cylinders at the moment (Viral infection, grief, living with a teenager).  To be honest I don’t believe anyone in the ‘Hive’ is on top form currently – each one of us with our own individual needs and ‘issues’ (I don’t really like that word, but it is how Buzzbee describes it and I can’t quite find a more appropriate word to describe it without going into a long list of ‘woes’ and sounding negative and self-pitying).

This weeks’ The Adoption Social’s #WASO theme is ‘when I grow up….’ , and as usual I begin thinking about writing a post with a clear idea of what I am going to say, but I am rapidly learning that no matter how good my intentions are for writing a thought provoking or amusing post, they always end up going in a completely different direction but somehow still fitting in with the current theme –this week is no different and in fact it ties in with the theme much more than my original ‘train of thought’ for this post.

Waxy has now been back at school for 2 weeks and to say the Easter holidays were stressful with him at home would be an understatement.  I don’t know if it is simply because he has turned 13 and has developed a skewed idea of how a teenager is supposed to behave and respond to adults (and his little brother) or if it is because the hormones are flying but he is emotionally unprepared or unable to cope as well as some of his peers with the changes.

There could be a thousand reasons for his current ‘pain in the backside’ demeanour and remaining therapeutic with him is certainly a challenge at the moment – especially for Bumble who is not only trying to manage his own grief but also the endless attempts by the ‘juvenile silverback’ to gain control over him.

Anyway I am waffling.  No matter how difficult Beeswax is being at the moment and how difficult he is making it for me to be around him or have a civil conversation with him that doesn’t involve him graphically describing what I should do to myself both physically and well, more explicitly (I will have to leave it up to your imagination what I mean by this) – there is a vulnerability about him that I haven’t seen for some time and it pulls at my heart strings. I find myself torn in two on one hand I am ‘hopping mad’ with him and on the other I am filled with empathy for him (this still intrigues  some of my family. They often wonder how I can do it – be completely incensed by his behaviour but remain filled with empathy for him at the same time)

My usual answer is “Answers on a postcard! I would love to know myself”.

Ok so how do my ramblings fit with this weeks’ theme?

Really, it comes down to an insane and rather pointless conversation between Waxy and myself last night about supper, which reached a point where he inadvertently allowed me a rare opportunity to look through the window into his inner world and let ‘slip’ what he thought his future would hold for him.

W: “I had fish fingers at school for lunch. I am not having f**king fish for tea tonight!”

H: “First of all. Thank you for letting me know what you don’t want but the food is already in the oven cooking and I will not be making anything else, but if you choose to not eat it then that is your decision. Secondly, if you had thought to ask me ‘what we were having for supper’ rather than going ‘off on one’, I would have told you that it was your favourite – chicken and leak plait”

W: “Well, you should have opened your big fat gob and told me. I shouldn’t have to ask. Do your job properly woman”

H: “Wow you are angry with me tonight.  Have I done something to upset you in the 3 hours since I collected you from school that I don’t remember?”

W: “You drive me nuts just by breathing.  I wish you would just shut up.  God, I will get more peace when I am in prison.  Actually at least then I will get 3 square meals a day that haven’t been ruined by you”

H: Again I am not sure what I have supposedly done to upset you but I am curious. Why do you think you are going to prison?  Unless you know something I don’t, I don’t believe you have done anything that warrants incarceration? Heck, you have never even been in trouble with the police as far as your dad and I are aware!”

W: “It’ll happen eventually! My parents (birth parents) were screw ups and it is obvious I will end up being one too”

H: “But, they have never been to prison as far as I am aware. It is really hard for me to hear you say this. I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you if you truly believe that this is what your future holds”  “You know your dad and I believe that you will do great things when you are older and so do your school if the report I read this week is anything to go on.  I really wonder what has happened for you to feel like this. Or, have you always believed this and only now feel you can trust me enough to tell me how you really feel about yourself”

Very quickly the conversation turned back into a torrent of verbal abuse about my parenting and his general opinion of me as a ‘good for nothing women who is such a ‘saddo’ that the dog is her only friend’ (I got too close. He can’t cope with me ‘connecting’ with him).

I have to be honest I was not prepared for his ‘bombshell’ and I found myself trying to ‘make it better’ and wanting to take his pain away. Maybe I am just very over sensitive at the moment but I shed more than a few tears after hearing him talk like this – I am pretty sure he thinks the tears are for his cruel words and not because he has just told me how hopeless he believes his future life will be.

When I started thinking about this post, I thought I would be writing about how when I was growing up I had dreams of being a famous wedding dress designer or a radiographer. Or, I would be writing about how Buzzbee’s ambition in life is to not only be a world renowned palaeontologist but he will discover a new prehistoric creature and name it after his big brother.

I certainly didn’t imagine while I was growing up that one day I would be stilling at the top of our staircase, listening to my extremely bright and articulate, eldest son telling me that he believes by the time he reaches adulthood, he will have ‘screwed up his life’ and will be in prison.

By now I should have learnt that just when you think you know what is going on in your child’s head or believe that they are confiding in you more – they do a complete 180 on you.

Life on ‘planet adoption’ is always different and often full of surprises but there is one thing it is never – BORING

Oh, I nearly forgot.  I now know why he was in such a foul mood with me.  During the week I had to bring him home for a doctors appointment – quite reasonable really and it was not during school hours.  It transpires that he had been on ‘the cool list’ and was supposed to be going to the cinema with some others on his unit but he had also forgotten to hand his report card in (they all have one everyday) and that day he had had his best scores in weeks, but because he didn’t hand it in those points didn’t count and so he did not get enough points to be on ‘the cool list’ for the coming week.

So there you have it.  It was all my fault!



2 thoughts on “Hopes for a future

  1. Thank you. I am still not quite sure where I drew the strength from to go with it and wait for him to calm down. Although I was definitely not so calm this weekend with his endless venom. As for looking after myself. Not much time for that but last week I managed to have a day to myself and took myself, Beedog, and my camera off for a few hours – heavenly place.

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