Maybe I was floating for a little while or maybe I was always drowning and just convinced myself I wasn’t anymore. I don’t know. But having a minute to think things were improving was nice while it lasted; real or not.
I’m at a crossroads in my life that most people never have to face. And I wonder if I’m just so far under water that I can’t think rationally anymore. That’s a very likely possibility. Every ptsd symptom I had that I thought was getting better has come back.
Why? My son. My son who is seven, has little clue he was abused and zero control over his body or emotions. The rages. Like snowballs rolling downhill, getting bigger and bigger. He can scream so loud now that it hurts my ears. He’s volitile; so I’m always on edge. He torments my three year old daughter. He screams in her face, shoves her around. He tells me daily he hates me, I’m “a jerk”, and numerous times daily. Or we hate him. He always says we all hate him. He throws things and tears up stuff. It’s impossible to know what’s going to set him off anymore.
I’m scared for all of us but mostly my daughter. I try to stay right there with them, but it’s virtually impossible to do 100% of the time.
Yes, he’s in therapy. Things are only getting worse. He’s getting more violent and my daughter is starting to have her own ptsd symptoms. I can’t give him what he needs at that moment AND protect her at the exact same time. I feel just as alone now as I did when I was with and trying to leave my husband.
Everything is almost so obvious with him these days. His son was here, with me, for part of the holiday break. 20 minutes away. They spoke before he came, and he asked his son “does this mean I’ll get to see you?” He never once texted me. He never once texted his sons mother. To ask either of us about seeing him. He did not call his son the entire time he was here.
New Years Eve my stepson came to me at 11:40pm and was visibly upset. He said he was worried about his dad and that he’d tried to call him several times and he wouldn’t answer. I said “it’s New Year’s Eve, he’s drunk, he’s fine. Please don’t bring in the new year worrying about your dad, go spend those few minutes with the one who matters to you the most.”
He laid in bed with his baby sister for about an hour. The next day he got a text from his dad saying he couldn’t talk the night before. Duh. Cause he was drunk.
It didn’t go unnoticed by my stepson that his dad didn’t bother to see him the whole time he was here.
My daughter has decided she’ll call me by my name. She’s two and my name isn’t easy for a two year old to say so I have to laugh and it’s almost adorable. I remembered how she called her dad by his name and he’d get so pissed. I told him it was only because my other sons called him by his name and she’d figure it out. But pissed off he’d get any damn way. During his hours of endless lectures about how shitty of a person I was, he’d even make sure to mention I was so awful that I wouldn’t even correct his own child to call him dad instead of by his name.
It makes me laugh now. The absolute insanity of being so damn mad at a child for calling you by a certain fucking name. Holy crap.