So it’s 2010. Now what?
Not sure where this year will take me. So far as resolutions go, I’m setting the bar pretty low. To borrow from an old classmate, my New Year Resolutions are: “1.) to get another year older, 2.) to accumulate more gray hair, and 3.) to work out less.”
Okay, so that last one is impossible for me… Divide by zero error: System halted.
Right now, my outlook for the year is grim. I’m just out of an active “police action” (we won’t call it a war) with Mrs. Who, and now active fighting has broken out on the parent-kid front. In the meantime, I still find myself living mostly alone in my late MamaBear’s house (blame the suck-ass weather) and getting more and more used to it. Don’t know what that means. But getting back to the active front…
My dumbass son “Goob” has chosen his path – one that doesn’t seem to have any room at all for stupid ass parents who lay “guilt trips” instead of pandering to his selfish whims (i.e., enforce responsible behavior). He’s determined he’s an adult, but acting like an overgrown four-year-old. Had the gall (not to be confused in any way with testicular fortitude) to ask me to turn over the keys and alarm code for his late grandma’s house so he could play house with his wounded-bird girlfriend.
It frikkin’ hurts to be a parent when you want to see them do the right thing and they are so caught up in hedonism and rebellion… I was rebellious, but I wasn’t THAT stupid. Shit. Okay, so maybe I was, but I was truly hoping to impart some of the wisdom I gained from my mistakes. Not much success in that, however, least of all when parental wisdom clashes with rutting teenager. Hell, in the few years since he discovered his “special purpose“, he’s already surpassed my own notch-count. It’s disappointing, but not entirely unexpected, I guess. Not that i can excuse his choices, however… since he’s choosing to be a little prick.
Case in point: he chooses to hook-up with a little tart that drops her panties on their first date – while he’s still in the process of “breaking up” with his previous g/f after providing her with a “morning after” abortion pill. Oh – she was under the age of 18, so that’s a case of illegal dispensing – and her parents were more than furious, wanting to swipe a chunk of his ass for the piece that he got from their daughter. He was more or less oblivious, leaving Mrs. Who and I to mop up while he went about his cavorting. In the midst of it all, he tried to demand that I “meet” his new piece of tail with him. Lacking a grain of respect for his little “Tragic Doll”, I declined.
Flash forward about eight or nine months, we get wind that Tragic Doll is claiming to have given birth to a baby boy – our grandson. Right away, I’m skeptical, since just a month before, she claimed to have had an inoperable brain tumor and lay dying in the hospital, only wanting to talk to Goob one more time. Dozens of times a day. Oops, she died. No, she didn’t. Maybe the brain tumor made her forget she was dead. Or that she was pregnant, since miraculously, she never had a brain tumor but suddenly she has a baby. Who has “a lung disease”. And some hell of an insurance plan, since he’s been in NICU for nearly three weeks and “all his bills are paid for and will be paid for until he’s 18.” She just wanted him to come see her to take a paternity test, even though such tests can be done with oceans and continents between the subjects. When we demanded to see proof of the child’s birth – of the certificate which bore my son’s name as the father, of the child’s illness… OOPS! He suddenly died. Oh, and she didn’t really have a baby because she was in Coast Guard Boot Camp the whole time. It must have been her cousin who was spoofing the whole ordeal because she wanted to make my son see how “special” Tragic Doll has become since he left her, and that “he would take one look at her and want her, but she’s not available to him any more.” Funny how Tragic Doll’s cousin sounds exactly like Tragic Doll in the telephone call recordings.
All the while we were uncovering Tragic Doll’s psychotic, hysterical claims and manipulative lies, Goob was getting on with Wounded Bird, who was evidently okay with the fact that his previous relationship was playing itself out with us in the middle, leaving him free to slip her some between the sheets. All evidence points to her being totally willing to betray her own self-respect by letting him poke her. But she’s learned sooo much from her life of hard knocks that all her decisions are intelligently and morally sound. Because she’s… you know… An 18 year old “adult”. And an admitted runaway. Rumored to have been fired for blowing a guy in a back room at Wendy’s. Pathetic and sad. Tragic, really. I feel so sorry for her. But there’s not a damn thing I can do.
The two of them are feeding on their past histories of abuse and claiming it “makes them strong” against the world. In reality, they’re indulging in that abuse, but they don’t see it that way. Of course, how would WE or anybody else know their lives? THEY are superior in their conjoined response to this terrible world – their tragedies having steeled them against the “false morality” of others… especially parents!
Yes indeed, if there’s one thing that heals the wounds of sexual abuse, it’s a good, guilt-free fuck!
Of course, Wounded Bird has no parents to speak of. She and Goob met in grade-school, and were trouble from the start. The gravity of sexual abuse trapped them in a violent orbit – nearly causing them both to be expelled at one point or another. Thank god for a tough little Irish nun who stood between them. I admit I always felt sorry for the girl, of course for the tragedy of her abuse, the absence of loving parents, and all… But also for the way my son had treated her back then. She was a year behind him, and in front of classmates, he had accused her of “wanting to suck your stepdad’s cock.” (Hence the near expulsion from parochial school.) I was mortified and ashamed of his actions then, but I understood where he was coming from. Then, she was a threat – she was a living totem of the abuse and the abused. No doubt there was a physical attraction – she pursued him from the get-go, and she was a cute girl. I know Goob isn’t blind… So to Goob, she was no doubt a bundle of desire, guilt and shame - and represented perhaps the part that “let the abuse happen”, and likely even the part that may have “felt good”. He responded with venom then.
Now, having come to terms with many of those feelings, I’m not surprised to see the abuse continue to play itself out as lust and nurturing for that part that is “accepted” or even “forgiven”. That part was evident in Goob’s indignant defense of his recent behavior, stating:
It is the past events in a person’s life that makes them who they are today, and honestly however FUBAR of a past, I am happy with who I am today, so I may not like the events, but I accept the past, I would not change a thing in it, even if that means getting abused by [ex-con felon scum].. it is something I have come to terms with and do not hide.
Jackpot! Going through all that got me all this (i.e., laid + kindred understanding + acceptance) today!
What worries me most about this is not the acceptance, but the evident embracing of this past. And I believe that has a lot everything to do with the sexual relationship he has cultivated with Wounded Bird. They simply have no clue of the dangers they are flirting with. Perhaps both are doing some rescuing, but WB is BAD needy – it’s written all over her. Her posture, body language, facial expressions, submissive glances and clinginess. (The unsettling way she hugged ME longer than necessary on two occasions screams her need for a “daddy” figure and goes that much further to my argument for her desperation for male attention and approval.) Most telling of all was her defensiveness when I tweaked her by telling her I pitied her. (And I truly do.) But I knew, and I was right; she came out swinging at the very notion and wouldn’t let it drop. They are both feeding on age-old hurts and new manipulations, and they’re too stupid-young to see any of it. They “love” each other out of need and pity, but don’t recognize that, either.
It’s a Catch-22. The more I say about it, the more Goob digs in his heels. Yet if I bite my tongue, he infers my tacit approval. Worse, it’s causing a rift between my son and myself that may never heal. On FaceBook, he commented on a picture of us at his Army BCT graduation:
lol, back when he was proud… seems like those days are gone, and so is he. Fuck it. dont need family, as far as im concerned they are all dead now to me, because obviously to them I might as well just be KIA.
I don’t know what to feel but sadness at that statement. Obviously it’s not true, but the alternative to him feeling this way is for me to accept the damage he’s doing to himself by allowing his stupid ass behavior to go un-reprimanded. Further, doing so would be my sacrificing someone else for my own benefit; WB may or may not be a hopeless case, but allowing them to recklessly indulge their shattered pasts is a recipe for a lifetime of failed and abusive relationships for both of them. It endangers not only them, but any children that might come about, as well as those who look up to them as role models for their own behavior (namely Buck). Call it “Tough Love” , but it would be irresponsible of me as a parent to do otherwise. Wouldn’t it?
I just don’t know anymore. The thing that often scares me most is my own anger – something of which I have an abundant supply. AT&T has “rollover minutes”, I have “rollover anger”. It just keeps stacking up. Of course I realize that my anger makes the things I say and do that much more difficult afterward. But my pressure relief is faulty. Plus, I seem to possess a flowing, predatory skill – of narrowing in almost effortlessly on the tenderest spot to land my blows. I read body language naturally, and within minutes of observing someone can pick the two or three of the most self-consciously guarded physical or psychological aspects of an individual to launch my attack. Heaven help you if I’ve known you longer.
I’ve had to check myself constantly in this battle of wills with Goob and his Wounded Bird mistress. I let it slip briefly once, and the damage was instant. It escalated into the position we find ourselves in now: after weeks of what can best be described as a “Cold War truce” since he left for Korea, we’ve recently broken-off negotiations and the hostility level has risen.
Where it goes from here, I have no idea.
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Sounds a lot like the situations I face with a couple of my kids. I’ve only recently been able to forgive my stepson for the terrible damage his actions have done to our family (meaning: I’ve let go of the anger towards him), but in the future only he can clean up the mess he created (or, to be fair, he finished creating after others got started on it). My daughter continues to think she can say or do whatever the hell she pleases and let others deal with the consequences, including leaving her baby behind without ever inquiring as to how he’s doing (something which I’ve covered extensively over at my place). Of course, she’ll be the one surprised when someday child enforcement lands on her with both feet, or she gets picked up for outstanding warrants that should and could’ve been dealt with long ago. At least, for now, we can keep her from warping the child she gave birth to (she hasn’t earned the title of “mother” in our opinion).
You’re right, playing the victim and reveling in the horrors of the past doesn’t make you stronger, it just makes you more pathetic and irresponsible. My wife’s niece I call the Chunt has done incalculable damage to her own children with exactly such behavior, and seems intent on turning them into pathetic victims as well, just to continue the cycle of dysfunction in the family (something else I’ve blogged extensively about). All you can do is just try to limit the damage they do to others, and reach out to those in the family to whom you can still make a difference with – much as I have done. And, as hard as it may be, leave a door open for the kids who have strayed, and let them know they are welcome to walk through it whenever they are ready. You can’t stop them from hurting themselves, but you can draw the line at them hurting the rest of the family.
Hang in there, friend, and don’t let the darkness overtake you completely. Because there are still those that need you out there. And, believe me, that makes all the difference in the world.
Wow, how did I not catch your response before now? Well, actually, I do know – I wrote this purgative piece and never looked at it again until now. Things have not changed much – they’ve since announced their engagement and wedding plans. Naturally, Mrs. Who and I are pretty much beside ourselves.
Thanks for your words of encouragement – it’s something to know that someone else has gone through and understands the same things we experience. My best to you and yours as well!