This is my son. He is no longer living with us, and though I know it was his disrespect that ultimately drove me to to take the very roof from over his head at 18, I still, on occasion, look back and try to see what I could have done differently to avoid it altogether. I have been told that it was not my fault, and that he made his choices. I know this, but somehow, it still nags me.
I will not go into details as to what happened. (I know that the internet is not private.) All I will say is that an ultimately unforgivable show of disrespect caused me to make the hardest decision of a mother’s life, expelling my son from his home. The disrespect on his behalf had been building for some time, and I had been letting it slide, but not without argument and protest, but I could no longer allow it. It had gotten to a point where I just could not put up with it any longer.
It hurt my heart that day, to oust him. Everyday after, I was hoping he would come to his senses, but he is still adrift on a sea of uncertainty. He may have a bit of direction now, but I can’t help but think from time to time, that there could have been something I could have done to prevent it. I know it was his choice to be rebellious, and one thing lead to another, but as a mother, I cannot help but mentally tick off a list to see if there was anything I missed or did wrong.
He is very artistic and, on occasion, very poetic. He is intelligent, and he can be wise, when he wishes. He does visit and call from time to time. This makes me happy. He does make it a point to make family dinners, birthdays, and family holiday events. This lets me know I did something right. I was very scared when everything went down, that he would not even do that, being angry with me at casting him out. What hurts me is seeing him living off the kindness of his friends and his friends parents. I didn’t raise him this way, and it upsets me. I have never given him living examples of laziness or living off of others. I just don’t know.
Until next time, God Bless.