#relational agression

[momsanddads]

Interesting—“People say, ‘well, boys are physically aggressive, but girls are aggressive in their relationships and it just does seem to be a myth.”

What Grown-Ups Are Missing About Boys

http://op-talk.blogs.nytimes.com/2014/12/03/what-grown-ups-are-missing-about-boys/?smid=tw-share&_r=2

[bandbacktogether]

Ask The Band: Am I A Monster?

I suffer from bipolar disorder and social anxiety, but that’s not what this post is about. It’s about being a mom who hates parenting and has done a shitty job of it.

My 18-year-old wants to move back home. I kicked her out about a month ago because I was angry and tired. I probably would have backed down, except she didn't. This all happened in text messages - I was at work. Two of my three daughters were trying to sleep-in during winter break, she decided she didn't care, and was blasting music so loud the neighbors could hear it. I got a message at work about it.

Me: Please be considerate of the other people in the house.

Debbie*: I don't care about <sister>

Me: Don't push me today. You'd be pissed if someone did it to you.

Debbie: She doesn't care about anyone so why should I? I'm leaving in a few anyway. Please just leave me alone. You and <stepdad> have been nothing but shit to me.

This is where I snapped.

We'd spent the last year and a half dealing with her in and out of juvenile hall, running away, spending six months in a group home while her dad didn't speak to her or see her for most of that time. We went to court appointments, paid court and juvenile hall fees, made sure she had what she needed, took time off to meet with counselors and probation officers, and helped her get a job and finish school.

Each time she cried and wrote letters to us and the judge about how she’d learned her lesson and didn’t want to be that person anymore. That she would speak with a counselor or a psychiatrist.

And then she’d do the same things again. When she was released from the group home and turned 18, we told her she could live with us if she followed basic rules:

Her boyfriend could not stay the night. If he came over, the door was to stay open.

Ask before having a bunch of friends over late at night.

Follow the curfew set by probation.

Let us know where she'd be and if she wouldn't be home at night.

Give us her work schedule and arrange for rides in advance. (She’s failed the written driving test three or four times, so no license.)

Help out around the house and with her little sister.

Pay $50 a month on the juvenile hall bill.

Do not take my things without asking.

Instead, we never knew for sure where she was or when she’d be home. When she was home, she slept and was rude. She left the front door unlocked and had her boyfriend come in after we went to bed, since his mom was tired of her staying there. She’d send a text message 20 minutes before she needed to be picked up expect us to drop everything and be there on time.

When we asked, again, that she give us more notice, she would yell at us about how we do nothing for her and do everything for the other kids. She took whatever she wanted from our room and a lock didn’t help – she and her siblings figured out how to get in anyway. She made everyone else in the house uncomfortable with her boyfriend coming over whenever she felt like it. She’d take him to her room, lock the door, and be loud. She cussed at all of us.

I was falling to pieces. My husband and I were fighting over the best way to deal with her – I was allowing guilt over the times I hadn’t been there for her to sway my current decisions.

I heard her dad and stepmom in my head: “Your mom doesn’t love you,” “Your mom doesn’t want you,” “Your mom is an unfit parent. She should never have been allowed to even be a parent,” and “Your mom uses bipolar disorder as an excuse. It’s not real." Our 9-year-old was a mess. School and coaches noticed a difference in her. And so, with that sentence, “You and <stepdad> have been nothing but shit to me,” I was done.

I couldn’t take anymore.

Me: Pack your shit and move out. Or I’ll do it for you. We give you rides, we put a roof over your head, we’ve done a lot for you. Get out.

Debbie: Oh, I'd fucking love to. If it was that fucking easy, I'd be gone. I do a lot, too. Sorry I don’t clean anything, but you never have to pay for shit, and I am a grateful kid. Sorry I don't wanna be a little shit and be ungrateful and barely do shit like your other wonderful kids.

Me: I’m not arguing. This isn’t a choice. If you aren’t gone tonight I’ll pack up for you.

Debbie: You're so dumb.

Me: Each of you have your issues, but you are the most disrespectful. And telling us we are shit to you is the final straw. You’re 18 now.

Debbie: Oh yeah, I'm so disrespectful. It's just me, though, nobody does anything wrong. And don’t put words in my mouth. I said you're being shit to me, and I'm sick of it. God. Sorry I was just your biggest mistake. Sucks having a Mom who never really wanted you.

Me: I told you I’m not arguing. You need to move out.

Debbie: Okay, cool. I need more than a day, stupid.

Me: Well, you don’t have one. Especially with comments like that.

Debbie: Omg you're so dramatic. If you're going through that depression stage, pop more pills.

What followed were more accusations from her and my refusal to discuss it. It ended with her telling me she never wanted to hear from me again. She came to the house twice after picking up her stuff and tried to take things that weren’t hers. She didn’t know I was off those days and left quickly when she discovered I was asleep in my room. I told her if she took anything of ours, I’d report it as theft.

My daughter is only 18. She works part-time in fast food making minimum wage. She doesn’t have a driver’s license. She has money for college because of her time in the group home, but doesn’t want to go. She’s dating a 24-year-old who lives with his parents while he finishes his degree. What kind of mom kicks out her 18-year-old knowing she can’t support herself?

Now, she wants to come home. No apology. Just a text that she hates to ask, but can she come home? Her hours were cut, she can’t afford rent, she’ll hardly ever be around anyway, she’ll pay us for gas if we give her rides to work and back. But I can’t do it. I’ve thought and cried and talked to friends. Our house is finally calming down again. People have noticed positive changes in my youngest daughter and I. I’m willing to help with rent, but I can’t let her move back in.

Am I some kind of monster?

*Names changed to protect privacy.

[bandbacktogether]

7 AM

That’s the hour she woke me up, screaming. Still going on about last night’s argument. When I realize it, I shrug it off and ignore her while she screams obsenities at me.

Just another one of her episodes, I tell myself. But another one on Christmas. Usually these episodes last for a week to three. If I’m lucky, that’s getting away easy.

"Ungrateful stupid child, I do everything for you. *curse word* and you get mad because I say this simple word in front of your son that isn’t even a curse word. All the things I do for both of you, you should be ashamed of yourself."

It’s kind of hard to shut off that voice from my brain when it’s waking me up at that hour. When it’s shouting at me so hotly, hurting my ears. Still, I ignore her because I’m genuenly tired; I put my son to bed almost at 2AM and managed to fall asleep at 4:30.

"DRESS UP! YOU’RE COMING WITH ME."

No, simply no. That’s all I said. There was no power on earth that was going to move me from that bed in that very moment, like there was no power on earth last night that was going to make me do as she said.

This triggered one of her episodes, which I had coming for two days now. My cousin had been staying over for two days doing all she commanded and asked, making him do chore work. Simple things she can do herself, she just loves saying to someone "Do this" and they go like well-trainned puppies and do as they are told. Kind of funny how sweet and nice she was to him and how sometimes she was actually nice to me.

Until he left. That’s when the screaming, cursing, putting-down began.

*Hears keys in the door*

And this is when my peace is over. Shame, I thought my son was finally going to have a day off to run around.

I don’t know how keys still don’t trigger memories and anxiety… Oh wait, never mind. I realize just now how much I dread hearing them every time at the door. It makes me jump whenever she comes home.