Posts Tagged ‘son

17
Jan
23

Response to She’s Cut Off From Grandkids, Too… (Ask Carolyn)

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Ask Carolyn (Hax) column originally titled “She’s cut off from grandkids, too, not just ‘angry’ grandpa.”

This letter/case addresses an aging mother/grandmother who is being denied time with her son’s children because the son refuses to visit and even speak with her. But, the enclosed blame for the lack of communication is placed upon the son’s father who is described as being a toxic, angry parent. The mother/grandmother feels she has been only kind, caring and supportive and thus has no reason to be denied time with the grandkids; she believes her relationship with the son was a good one…until he stopped communicating with her (and his father). The mother/grandmother tries to bridge the gap by sending gifts to the grandkids…and there is no mention of how those gifts are used/received.

Carolyn (Hax) does a decent job of bringing my attention to one possibility I did not consider, while reading the letter…and also possibly making the mother/grandmother feel exceedingly guilty/self-conscious in an already tender, tragic situation. The psychology here may be more fragile than it appears in text. And, I wouldn’t want the already troubled mother/grandmother to do anything further to ruin her health or end her life as a result of “tough love” from a columnist. But, as Carolyn seems to suggest or hint at, the psychology might also be something in the head of the mother/grandmother who is in denial of her part in the parenting mishap. [I could say the same of my parents. One (if not both) is definitely living in denial.]

—————-

Very Sad Grandma, I hope you are NOT my mother and thus someone who refuses to take any blame for how she performed (and continues to perform) as a parent…even though she might be right when she says she did the best she could…even if that means she just wasn’t ready/fit to parent. I hope you are just as much aware of your own potential missteps as you are able to point fingers at your son’s father, the other half of the parent equation. I hate to admit I am skeptical…because you did not make any mention of what even MIGHT be your fault…because you claim your relationship with this son was good. Either way, we, the readers, have little to no evidence, just your word.

[Acknowledge that it takes two to have a child and be parents (plural); admit that much. I am not saying single parents cannot adequately parent, in some (not all) cases. But, certainly, two happy, healthy mentors can do better than one struggling to make ends meet, so to speak (just like two kidneys over depending upon one).]

But, I also hope you are not the self-sacrificing, martyr type who will blame herself for more than she is guilty just to open a closed door and then repeat the problem that closed it. And, I hope you are not the sort who perpetually blames herself until she is a mindless corpse (because no amount of confessing seems enough to improve the situation). I hope you are not a “doormat.”

I will acknowledge, as any of these advice columnists must feel like saying though it is rarely if ever addressed, sorting out such a touchy subject outside of a therapy setting, where you can hear from all sides, provided all sides are present and permitted to speak freely in an orderly fashion…if that ever happens in our modern world, anymore…sorting out your big crisis through a newspaper column doesn’t seem very effective, productive and/or sensible. You write out your thoughts as they come to you, emotionally, in the moment. If you’re lucky, you review what you wrote before turning it in to the columnist. The columnist reads what you wrote and has to wrap their assessment into a set space.

…The whole thing just feels like a futile and tensely packed situation with no clear resolution.

[I would also like to address how writing an emotional plea to anyone, for advice or just to be heard, is a confusing effort when you include more than one person of a particular gender in a single sentence. This letter becomes a bit confusing at points, mixing the father of the son with the father of kids of his own. See what I mean? We need to break these sentences down to be extra clear; discuss one person at a time and watch those gender-specific words.]

Regardless, I have a few thoughts/ideas of my own I’d like to offer, if you are receptive.

There is one path Carolyn does not even bother to consider…because she is focused on the possibility that your relationship with the son’s father might be…er, dead. You might be divorced. You might be separated. You might no longer get along with the son’s father and feel you have separate rights to be with your kids and their kids. The path I am referring to involves you setting a “date” with your son to meet and be with the grandkids AWAY FROM THE FATHER.

Is that not possible? Couldn’t you contact the son and suggest a time and place you could meet which would not include “angry dad” and thus spare the son the agitation of being around the worst parent one more minute?

If the answer is no, if the son gives absolutely no response to any communication you send…how do you know your “gifts” are even received and/or put to good use? How do you know they are not tossed in the trash?

If you cannot make ANY contact with your troubled son, in which he responds with some form of opinion/thought, you really don’t have much you can do except go on with your life…YOUR life. [And, that doesn’t have to include your “angry” partner…at least, not all of the time.]

Yes, it would be lovely if every branch of every family could cohabitate and share life’s joys….but that seems like a hoop dream, lately. It’s romantic TV fantasy; it’s a family show from the 1950s, promoting good values where there are none. It’s propaganda to sell you dish soap and cigarettes for when the kids are asleep. Maybe real family life isn’t so rosy. Ya know?

But, if you can, try the secluded meeting option. Try setting up a meeting with your son and the grandkids in which “angry dad” does not attend. Then and only then might you be able to resolve what is surely keeping you distressed day-to-day (because you cannot let this go).

IF you can make contact with your agitated son…and IF he (still) refuses to meet with you apart from the father he (supposedly) detests, you’ll have your answer, as tragic as it may be. You are partially to blame for the son’s anger. Either you report back to his father in a way that makes you an associate to the problem, a subordinate contributor…or you are equally “bad” and just don’t see/admit it. Either way, you’ll know. Then it’s up to you, sigh, to accept the fallout and move on with YOUR life.

[On a recovery-from-fallout-with-my-son note, consider giving your motherly time and attention to kids who are not your own…not collecting lifeless dolls the way my mother’s family seems to do, voiceless, infantile representations of what they initially desired and not at all what happens when those cute little dolls mature. Consider being a mentor and, potentially, a gift giver to kids who lack guidance and emotional support. You won’t be able to take them into your own home (unless you legally adopt). You cannot call them your own, say or do anything that might violate some legal/family boundaries. But, you’ll be able to put that energy you currently cannot give out to good use, I’d hope.]

Carolyn isn’t wrong in suggesting sending a “genuine apology” *without any mention of you wanting time with the kids.* That IS the key/trigger, here. You cannot confess feelings of any kid to the son AND say you want to see the kids. That’s like attaching TNT to a care package…or giving a present with a tag that says “NOW, WHERE’S MY PRESENT?” You don’t want to harm your son, but you might be by mixing your wants for one thing with another…and by ignoring the bomb wires attached to your own hand in the parent trap. Cut the wrong wire, and you blow up your contact opportunity. It’s not pleasant to hear…but may be the truth.

So, to mend fences, or, at least, re-establish communication (if, currently, there is none) yes, try to apologize without a “gimme” clause. But, if you genuinely believe you are not to blame, at all, I don’t think an apology makes any sense. If you are guilty of something and take no blame upon yourself, you’re lying through your smile. If you blame yourself for something you didn’t do, putting yourself on the sacrificial table like a martyr, you’re adding unncessary emotion to the situation and could arrive at the same conclusion, a son who thinks his mother doesn’t know what she is saying and thus isn’t understanding the situation.

But, at the very least, if you cannot hear back from that son yet CAN admit some responsibility, yes, send a letter of apology…and then…pardon my language…SHUT UP. Stop beating on the door that won’t open (and let that door open, again, when/if it chooses to do so). Let that son reach out to you, if he still can. Communication is a two-way street. And, no one person, not even a guilt-free parent, can pave a smooth street, alone. All of your “force” isn’t repairing this road. So, accept what you did, try all that you can and then let the matter go…or sink with the ship.

[And, pardon me for mixing road metaphors with aquatic ones.]

Understand…this may be a wound that needs more time to mend before that part of the social body that is your family can continue to function. Like a gash on one of your limbs or a broken bone, we cannot rush recovery time, even if your insurance won’t cover more rehab. The body heals as it can, as it will. So do relationships, sometimes. Sometimes, effort is needed to accelerate and make productive change/improvement. Sometimes, nature just needs to take its course at its own pace. This may be an instance of the latter. Picking at the “scab” could just make matters worse.

[Don’t be the kid who won’t shut up in the backseat of the car, repeatedly asking, “Are we there, yet? Are we there, yet?” Kapeesh?]

04
Apr
22

Response to Must Dad call new wife ‘the love of his life’…; from Ask Carolyn (Hax)

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Ask Carolyn (Hax) column originally titled “Must dad call new wife ‘the love of his life’ around his kids?”

There are two letters to this particular column. The second ends with a line that triggers my pet peeve with this advice columnist.

Resentful is the non-gender-specific offspring of a deceased mother and a father who, after four years of solitude, has paired up with another woman, a woman he chooses to regularly call “the love of my life.” Resentful, upon hearing those words, including in the presence of children (possibly their own, possibly nieces/nephews, possibly both), becomes angry and hurt because those words were once the rightful description of their birth mother (and the grandmother of the children present). Resentful seeks a way to convey the anger to their father who persists in questioning why Resentful has reduced time spent with him. In other words, it’s a tense situation that won’t improve without some form of peaceful negotiation.

Carolyn essentially advises Resentful to speak up rather than silently withdraw, bottle the anger and leave Dad wondering until his heart permanently breaks from the disconnect. Carolyn also states that feelings from both sides may not be entirely as they appear in the column/letter. The father might still value Resentful’s birth mother but politely use the phrase to honor his new flame as the next phase in his on-going life. And, Resentful is choosing, in a way, to let the circumstances upset him/her, rather than simply accepting the choice made by their father.

Raising a Teen is a frustrated single? mother who has a tense relationship with her 17-year-old son and a number of fellow-parent “friends” who politely try to sympathize though their own kids are younger. Raising, somewhat like a teenager, feels the other parents (friends) just cannot understand all that goes through her head upon dealing with her own near-adult son. Memories of her ex, the boy’s father, who retains a bitter relationship with his own mother, trouble her. She wants to scream.

Carolyn somewhat subtly tells Raising to curb her anger and reconsider the advice and/or support of those other parents, even if they don’t have the exact same circumstances. And, if that’s not sufficient, if Raising still cannot calm down (possibly because some emotional responses are just too much for some people, possibly including Raising’s “friends”), she should seek professional help (therapy, I am guessing). [Can I scream, now?]

——————–

Resentful,

What Carolyn (and I just) said. The quick and easy answer is to bite the bullet and put your feelings on the table, ideally getting an honest confession from your father (not pressuring him to change his choice of words just to please you).

Right now, your anger/resentment is so vivid and fierce, like a raging fire; you cannot handle peaceful negotiation. So, I’d suggest taking some kind of trip/vacation on which you can process your feelings and digest our words/advice. It doesn’t have to be a long trip; just a day or two…probably two.

You need to calmly speak with your father to clarify his truest feelings. This could be challenging, considering he may be reluctant to say his feelings for your deceased mother are as strong as those he has for the new woman, for fear of upsetting that new woman…which is fair to say. And, if you cannot control your own fiery feelings, you might spoil the opportunity to assess the situation (which is why, I suppose, you reached out for advice).

How can someone new ever be a fully honored and accepted part of his life if he must constantly replay/relive emotional matters of his past? Would you expect him to say he loves two women, one deceased and one living, equally at every family gathering? Would you expect him to set a place at the dining table for the deceased and his new love interest?

I’d be a bit of a hypocrite if I didn’t see things from your side, as well. I have similar resentment for things my family chooses to do which trigger some unpleasant historical thoughts/feelings. Imagine being a rape victim and having your family party with evidence from that painful experience at the scene of the crime while they talk casually about the culprit. [No, I have not been raped…at least, not in the dictionary-definition sense. I’d say I’ve been sort of spiritually and mentally raped (or deeply offended and rattled by people I was told to trust). I just use that as a sort of metaphor/example of what’s still troubling me.]

You don’t like what your father is doing/saying. You don’t want to hear it. The healthier response would be to take the previous advice and defuse the bomb in your chest; if your father can convince you he still values your mother, even if he uses those particular words to address/introduce the new phase of his remaining lifetime, you have nothing to resent. This situation isn’t exactly a drug-abuse intervention, so you cannot pressure him to quit for his own health. Yet, the second-hand smoke–so to speak–is upsetting yours (your mental/emotional health). If he cannot see how the words upset you, that’s just as unkind of him if he doesn’t step forward to address the situation. “Honey/Son? Is what I am saying bothering you? Why? Let’s talk about it.”

Your choice to withdraw and spend less time with your dad isn’t too unreasonable. It gives you some control over the situation, unlike being the child who gets imprisoned if he/she turns against his/her parent(s) in some emotional conflict. You are not required to go along for the ride you have no interest in taking. You can step away/stay at your own home.

But, not resolving this matter only causes the resentment to fester in the wound. Your relationship with Dad won’t improve by biting your angry tongue and avoiding him. Once or twice, it might feel good to have that control. But, year after year, it’s sure to eat you alive…until he dies. And then, what will you do/feel? Will you let him go to his grave without a kind word…because he lived the (second) portion of his committed love life in a way that upset you? [I’m asking myself similar questions as I sort out what I will need to do when my (disappointing, to say the least) parents pass away.]

Carolyn commonly advises people to seek professional therapy. But, she did not in this case. Strangely enough, I am wondering if something similar wouldn’t benefit your situation. If you could arrange a talk with your father and some sort of mediator with no emotional ties to the situation, someone who you’d trust to serve as judge/counselor, you might stand a better chance at sorting out the details and putting your anger to rest.

——————–

Raising a Teen,

In your current state of mind, I doubt me saying “I feel your pain” would suffice, considering I am not a parent of a 17-year-old boy or any children, for that matter. But, I know that desire to scream when those we seek for sympathy and advice (though we are slow/reluctant to accept and/or follow it) don’t satisfy our desires for one reason and/or another. You are the sort who starts sentences with “Until you have…” and clenches her fists (and teeth) when someone who isn’t your twin says anything that doesn’t agree with your comfort zone. Differences in circumstances, for you (and, often enough, myself), are like pollen and dust to someone (like me) with seasonal allergies. And, I might be just a tad like your ex, considering the tense relationship I have with my own parents, both of them.

I’ve consulted people I’d like to call friends for advice and sympathy in matters troubling me; and, often enough, their responses lack something to satisfy my desires. This tends to anger me. And, when I contact these “friends,” they often claim I sound angry. I get worked up about certain matters…about a lot of things…more than the people I contact, it seems, ever do. They don’t seem as 3-D as I feel; they are more like cartoon/movie characters written to respond a certain way than people who can adequately relate to and help with my situation. In short, I’m “too much” for most people. And, once this is conveyed by the person I contact, contact is abruptly ended…not usually by my choice but by the other person. And, that only makes me want to cry and scream even more. What does one who is “too much” for so many do with that volcano of feelings?

The easy answer for many is to say, “You need to seek professional help.” And, to that, I respond GET LOST! Tell me how many people have come to you for sympathy/support or just someone to keep them company. And, how often did you tell them their problems/requests are too much for you? Did you tell them to get professional help for reasons other than resolving a mechanical problem (like fixing a leaky pipe or replacing a faulty appliance/computer)?

Gosh. “Professional help” must certainly be rich with all that business being thrown their way. It makes me wonder why there aren’t as many commercials for crisis assistance services and psychiatrists as there are for lawyers just waiting for someone to have a terrible vehicular accident or intake a hazardous drug/chemical; I suppose it’s because few if any are being told to go have a near-fatal vehicular accident or ingest a hazardous substance.

Tell me why a professional stranger, who has no prior experience with you upon which to base their assessments, who requires payment for every minute of their time (which sounds a bit like prostitution), is better than someone you sort of or sufficiently know taking the time to help you through your difficult time/situation. Isn’t the latter the definition of a good friend? Instead, you are supposed to lay out every important detail about what has been going on in your life (and omit what isn’t important, while swamped in emotional baggage), tell it all to someone new who can only give you an hour of their time maybe once a week if not once every other week, and expect them to have more sympathy than the people you call friends. That sounds…insane.

I cannot even discuss my health concerns and prior experiences, at full length, with my “primary care provider” before my “session” has expired. At best, I imagine a professional could steer you toward some other form of assistance, like a family/group therapy program or recreational activity you might (enjoy) with your son, provided he would participate with you in that activity. And, I suppose, that’s slightly better than telling you to get help elsewhere.

Wait; did I just give professional advice without a license? Hmm.

But, a therapist cannot remain professional and still be a good friend (as previously defined)…can they? They only have so much time and many others who need their help…because so many, who cannot handle helping other people, are providing these therapists with an ample supply of clients. A professional cannot be that person you call in the middle of the night when something’s bothering you (or even at a more reasonable hour, if you could be that respectful). I really wish I had such a friend, right now. But, I don’t. And, I’m guessing, you don’t have one, either.

I may have a difficult time processing some emotionally/mentally “heavy” situations. I may also not be the best source of advice/counsel, considering I can be harshly honest (or blunt) without intent to upset/hurt anyone. I don’t take pleasure in upsetting people, but it happens…often. If I don’t say something miraculously inspirational, usually making good use of a metaphor, I say something that disturbs the other person(s). I don’t smile in response, like some wicked people I’ve known do. I’m…sorry I upset someone. Yet, saying I am sorry won’t resolve the situation I just caused.

I like to think I take on more emotional conflicts than most people would; I like to think I am a decent counselor/therapist. I like helping people when and where I can, even going above and beyond what comes easy to most. But, considering I am dealing with a ton of my own mental/emotional baggage on a fairly regular basis, it’s not as if I can address the problems of another person with a clear slate/state of mind. A professional tends to limit their time to an hour with each client. I’m inclined to spend more than that with each person (being someone who is not a man of few words); which is one reason I would not be the most/best professional helper.

Now that I’ve sufficiently gone off-track with self-therapy, let’s get back to your situation. Hopefully, what I’ve just said will ease the tension in your shoulders a bit and you will agree we have similar feelings/experiences.

You and your son currently do not get along (well). You neglect to give any specific reasons/examples of those conflicts. And, your ex’s relationship with his mother troubles you.

Is that because you fear the son will take after his father? Is it possible your troubling son has already said something about his father to fuel his clashes with you? Is that so unreasonable?…for a son of divided parents to sort of side with the one he favors? Is that so abnormal that others–even those who don’t have the exact same circumstances–cannot relate/sympathize in some way? Divorce isn’t new or taboo. Separated parents are not new, either.

Considering you call the other parents (you mentioned) friends, I have to question/wonder how they earned that title. They don’t satisfy your needs. And, I’m betting you don’t do enough to please them, even if you feel you do plenty. It’s possible they don’t adequately appreciate and respect your output. You clearly don’t appreciate their output. So…how are they friends?

I’m inclined to think too many call undeserving people “friends” just to feel as if they are not entirely isolated in this world. I know I’d feel like a basket case if I couldn’t say I considered at least one person a friend…of some sort. I will come right out, right now, and admit I do not currently have a single close friend. There is no one I can trust with the depths of my soul, and that is quite discouraging. But, I do have what I’d consider very shallow, somewhat superficial, flimsy, fair-weather contacts, people I can reach by phone and/or email. And, yes, some of those contacts make me want to scream, now and then…especially if anyone stops “trying,” says I’m “too much” and/or tells me to get professional help.

If your “friends” are cardboard cutouts merely filling the places of people you’d prefer to have in your life, the desire to scream certainly makes sense. Imagine waking up to a world inhabited by only cardboard people (and yourself). That sounds awful.

I have no advice for how to improve your friendships other than to look elsewhere (for better friends). I’d take the advice I’ve been given about joining a club or exercise class at which you might meet people with similar interests and–ideally–outlooks. But, I have yet to follow that, myself, for whatever reason I am reluctant to confront.

You could listen to Carolyn–if I correctly understood her words–and take what you get from your “friends” without throwing it back in their faces. Accept the fact they don’t have the exact same situation yet offer what they can/will in response; and, if that’t not good enough, consult someone else…which you did by reaching out to an advice columnist. And, like those professionals we’re being told to find, she only has so much time and space to satisfy your needs…not enough to fill an hour of your day.

Similarly, you could alter your way of thinking about the problem by avoiding and/or derailing thoughts about the ex who doesn’t get along with his mother. Do all that you can to silence those voices in your head that say, “Like father, like son.” Avoid any movies and/or TV shows that use those words and tell stories of sons acting out the way their fathers once did. Your son is an individual, even if he is part you and part ex. He can be his own special person, if you treat him that way. But, if you feed him the same fertilizer and water you gave your ex, he will probably resemble that ex.

Is there any reason your son SHOULD feel/act the way your ex does/has? Are you, in any way, responsible for your son’s behavior? Can you admit that much? [And, if you can, that would have been helpful information to include in your letter…as well as the first step to resolving the conflict.] Taking responsibility for one’s part in a conflict is far better than accepting zero blame and simply expecting your son to change. Expressing awareness of how you may have upset the relationship (even if you cannot find any intent on your part) you have with your son could compel him to express similar feelings and bridge the gap.

What more can I/we say? Plenty, I suppose, if we spared the time and effort. But, I don’t have a concise, concrete, fool-proof solution. Who does? I don’t know.

28
Feb
17

My Response to “Achiever Mom” (Carolyn Hax)

*****
You can find my response to this and other letters on the designated page. But, while you’re here, have a read.  [You may find a loose end or two as my response kept evolving over a few days.  I finally just decided to post what I had.]

Achiever Mom is concerned about her son who is twelve years old, not exceptional in sports or academics and void of any interest with which she feels able to relate. She mentions her husband as a socially anxious under-achiever and highlights a moment in which her son supposedly chose to forfeit a spelling bee due to a lack of interest in winning/trying. Claiming she grew up grasping at every opportunity she could, this incident made her angry at him for not being more ambitious to achieve greater status.

Carolyn Hax does a decent job of asking Mom to accept her son as he is and let him find his own way. But, Hax seems to be making the assumption the son bailed on the challenge, knowing it would irk his mom, making the son appear more devious than he may be (which could have a negative impact on what the mother does next).

While overall content with the article/response, I felt there were a few details missing, details that might need light shed upon them to better understand and direct the situation at a crucial stage. This case also touches on a personal one, which motivates me to speak out. Thus, the following response is more about my experience and how it may be related to the situation at hand than added advice.

————–

Achiever Mom, you be careful with that boy. I don’t want to scare you, but soon, he will be entering high school, that tumultuous stormy sea between Scylla and Charybdis that tests youth’s metal. He will face temptation, heavier work loads and peer pressure like he has never known. He will be torn between convention and rebellion, between practical and unorthodox. And, if you so much as twist his wrist in an effort to tell him “how it’s done” or fail to teach him how to accept defeat, you could scar him and the connection you have for life.

If you don’t mind reading a novella, I’m content to sit down and discuss this with you for the moment. Getting all of the thoughts out and answers we might benefit from is a tad hard to achieve in half of a newspaper page. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable, take a deep cleansing breath, maybe fix yourself a calming drink and have a go at this.

[FYI, I speak from experience; I was a boy much like your son. I had a father who (without any “inheritance”) boasted military experience (in “peace time”) and a mother who was the self-proclaimed ruler of discipline and organization (as well as the queen of denial). But, I didn’t bail on the spelling bee. I simply fell short and discouraged myself from trying, again, because I had been built up to think I was smarter than I performed and acknowledged for a skill I must not have valued much (until I was older and learned to care more about the full use of words than just spelling them). I made one mistake and didn’t have the nurturing I felt necessary to continue or didn’t see the logic in trying, again. I had no “failure coping skills,” no interest in being less than the best and, to be quite honest, little to no interest in glory from spelling.

There were many other instances in which I had gut instincts to go one way and my parents insisted I go their way. And, in short, because they only accepted doing things my way after it was too late (after I paid the price of going against my gut feeling) or after lengthy protest and stressing out, a rift gradually grew. In just a few years, it grew to the point I lost sight of the childhood love I had for my parents. And, to this day, that love is razor thin; it’s an obligation and an oath, not a comfort or treasure.

I had a hard time talking with my parents about nearly every concern on my mind. And, there were plenty in my early teens. Certain tasks or challenges were deemed too dangerous or unfit for me before I could even attempt them. Where I wanted to try was not always approved. The more often I quit, the less my parents approved of me; and the more I disliked myself. Yet, I could not see any merit in continuing what discouraged and/or hurt me, as well as what seemed “too hard.” I was told I was a good student, but that didn’t seem the case when it came to learning from/with my parents. Confusion does not make a good foundation. And, when later asked by others why I couldn’t do something, I felt too embarrassed to say no one never taught me or that I was afraid to learn. Nor could I easily take what others taught me and apply it at home without my parents objecting strongly.]

Your last little paragraph kind of says it all. You are a tightly wound violin string ready to snap at the kid for a “mocking bow” and potentially never succeeding at anything. You may say it was so, but I don’t know and doubt he was mocking. Nor would I be so harsh to assume he will never succeed at anything; that’s just devastating talk. Get that junk out of your head, doing a weekly sweep if necessary.

[That reminds me of a time when my mother thought I was “faking” weakness/illness/injury. I was actually physically, mentally and emotionally hurt; and she thought I was faking. I don’t remember her saying so when I was in the moment. But, hearing her thoughts, decades later, hurt almost as much as they would have had I heard them as that kid. It explains why I felt so abandoned and helpless at the time, left to fend for myself like a baby bird that fell from the nest. Yet, I didn’t do so well fending for myself. Had I been a bird, I probably would have died or been eaten.]

Whether or not you shake your head at my earlier assessment, let me ask you a valid question (or two). How successful are you, really? [That might have shed some light on the situation.] Are you the “breadwinner?” Are you at the peak of your career path? Or, are you “content” with much less than you yourself could have had yet wishing–as many do–for your children to “have a better life” while losing sight of what you experienced?

Understand that some things never change; but others do. Tools that were available when you were his age are not the same now. Opportunities you had then are not necessarily available now. Others you did not have are. Circumstances are slightly different.

———
This next portion is going to sound much like what Carolyn said with a few different words. You might find a few new perspectives. But, you can skip past it, if you prefer.

Instead of focusing on the word “succeed,” right now, put the phrase “stimulate the happiness of others” up over your work space and do everything in your power to guide your son toward what makes him happy (not what makes you happy). In time, I would guess (I mean, what do I know?) this will turn into success once he feels good about what he can do before assuming he can or must be successful.

Teach him a lesson my parents had a hard time–if not failed at–grasping: how to experience failure and deal with it. Don’t teach him to fear failure and fear trying things you feel he isn’t fit or right to do (like laundry, cooking and other household chores), just because he doesn’t do them your way or makes a mess. [Maybe there’s a reason he doesn’t follow directions well; and it doesn’t have to be a “disability” or “attitude problem.”]

The scariest part of the coming years could be letting him do what he chooses and being ready to cushion any blows that come from those decisions, not letting him take over your house and lifestyle but allowing him to mold himself rather than have you pick the shape he takes. If there is competition, let him decide to enter or avoid it. Encourage him to discuss what is happening in his life without framing the moment with past experiences and assumptions/predictions. Then, if you see an opportunity for him to take a chance with good odds, kindly nudge him.

Say something like, “Hey, you’d be good at that. Why don’t you give that a try?” And, leave it at that. Or, provide the tools/supplies without any pressure to use them. [If you must, try a little negotiation. Say you’ll do ____ for him if he does ____ for you (for himself). And, don’t cave if he resists. But, don’t deprive him of necessities, either. Don’t take away his ability to connect with friends, regardless what he has done (and not from what he MIGHT do).] If he turns away from the challenge, don’t fight his decision. [However, if his life takes any scarier turns, if he withdraws so much from interaction, chores and challenges that his life seems in jeopardy, other action will become necessary.]

———

The first line of your letter that jumped out at me was where you mentioned your son being nervous and not wanting to be there. [Actually, the first was his saving grace, his sense of humor. I seem to have survived this long with that little life preserver, myself.] While nerves and refusal may be signs of weakness one could halt by pushing the weakling into the fray of battle, it might also have been an area of achievement he had little interest in pursuing. And, pressure to do something we do not instinctively favor could be unnecessary pressure, like peer pressure. Just because our peers tell us we’re uncool for not doing what they do; that doesn’t mean we can’t choose to do things differently.

Some adults might recall being kids pushed to take up musical instruments but, later, giving up these lessons to take up medical or financial jobs. They might look back and question their parents’ pressure to take interest. [Or, if they are so fortunate, the former kids might integrate those lessons into adult life and be some amazingly, envy-worthy, diverse people.]

[I personally was adept at math because I had a brain apparently gifted at absorbing equations. But, would I pursue math contests? No way. Too boring. I’m a creative spirit. There is no creativity in math, other than creating problems and, later, solutions. I don’t mind problem-solving. But, I guess I have little to no interest into imagining problems in terms of numbers and variables. My mind is more geared toward seeing social, arrangement/composition or regulation problems around me and figuring out solutions.]

One other thing about your letter that sticks in my mind: You briefly mention the husband being socially anxious and an under-achiever who struggles to get jobs. Yet, you love this guy; you married this guy, right? [That may be a tiny weight off my shoulders, an ounce of hope.] But, how much do you love him? And, could it be your marriage is merely another challenging opportunity you took upon yourself? Did you enter this family structure like a school contest, hoping to work your way up the ranks from district to state, mold the members like clay sculptures until they won the blue ribbon at the county fair? In other words, do you love your husband (and your son) for who he is, for being part of your life? Or, do you see them as works in progress you just haven’t been able to fully improve to the best of your ability, yet?

What would you say or have done had your husband not “inherited” any money? Would that have any impact on you marrying him? Was the money or family status a push toward the thought of a stable future/home?

I wonder, how does your husband feel about you (and the kid/s)? Do you have more than one child? That too could be a big factor in this pressure-to-achieve situation. For instance, how does this son get along with his siblings? How “successful” or “driven” are they? Might this son feel pressured to be like them when he is not?

[I knew a few “only childs” and saw how their parents treated them like pet projects, like singular rockets filled with hopes of greater success than any family of six or more could achieve.]

How would the husband feel being labeled an underachiever? Does he accept this like a healthy bowl of bran cereal to stabilize his diet? Is he comfortable not doing as much as some, accepting that some people are tortoises while others are hares? Or, do the words cut a little deep, leave him a little less eager to try?

———
Here comes some more advising verbiage. Again, breeze past it if you’d rather read more unique material.

At twelve, your son is at a crucial time of development, sure. [Heck, every year between birth and whatever number you want to use for labeling adulthood is crucial.] And, you could fortify this by giving him a swift kick into some regimen like boarding school or a “balanced diet,” and trust this will keep his back straight, his shoulders back and his elbows off the table. But, what is more important is a trusted family member fortifying him with experiences, both good and bad.

He needs to be free to try things, learn how to do them both your way and his own way and experience failure to learn from his mistakes. You’ve probably heard similar advice elsewhere. It just might not have stuck with you or found purpose. Well, I’d say the purpose has been found. It’s your son. And, he needs his mother to still catch him when he falls but to let him fall, as well, and learn what comes with failure, including the steps to recovery.

A parent who is driven by only success and grabbing every opportunity might not be relaxed enough to say, “It’s okay if I don’t have any interest in ___. Maybe I’ll give it a try; and, if I don’t like it, that’s fine. I’ll do better at something else.” You might get upset if you take on a crossword puzzle and leave half of it blank. You might cut interests out of your life because you did not excel at them. Or, you might think you have to be good at everything.

———

Which brings me back to the father in the picture. What’s his input with the son? How does he nurture the boy? Is his method annoying to you? If you answer the last question with some form of “yes,” that says plenty. Maybe a lack of desire to compete and excel could be directly or subtly linked to an unhappy union in which two committed lovers–role models for the boy–are anything but encouraging images at the finish line. The boy might not want to complete the race because the prize at the end of the road is not worth his time/energy. [Or, maybe, it’s not you he’s looking at but other families falling apart.]

———
One last push to sound competent and professional. These moments just pour out of me like a leaky boat. It’s the chatty therapist in me.

Get to know your son and his interests. [If at seventeen he still likes the cartoons he watched at five or keeps a stuffed animal on his bed, don’t harp on that being a bad thing.] Let him decide when it’s time to keep or part with something. Don’t assume his decisions or ways are bad ones. Teach your son how to pick himself up and try, again. Don’t insist he must continue or be smarter or more successful than he feels fit/able. Or, live with the possible failure of staying connected with your son; accept that he will likely cut ties with you or resent you if you push too hard or fail to fill in other gaps.

You can’t guarantee success no matter what method you try. You, too, must be able to cope with “failure” and still find happiness, contentment. Otherwise, this life is a miserable one.

———

Phew! And, breathe. [This is just the tip of the emotional iceberg for me.] If you manage to find my lengthy thought process here and wish to continue, feel free to contact me.




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