Thursday, June 08, 2017

Football Dreams

Potentially momentous things have been happening lately. A previous attempt to join the high school football team was stymied by too many failing grades. Ty was crushed, but not defeated. I've never seen Tyler work so hard for something in his life. No, he hasn't turned into the perfect A student. He still won't do homework most of the time. But he IS trying. He has managed to raise some of his grades. Will it be enough? We aren't sure. But he has been working out with the team, working out at home with his home gym, going to practices, and following this weird diet to cut fat and muscle up. He still sees "man boobs and fat" when he looks at himself in the mirror. I see a Greek god. The boy is ripped!

Yesterday he was issued footballs pads and gear by the team. A good sign, I think. What I wasn't prepared for was seeing him walk into the room, wearing just his gear and pads. I welled up with tears! He isn't a boy anymore. He looks like a professional football player. It was startling, a little scary and awe inspiring.

I want to support his football aspirations. I want to be there for his games. But we need to work on our mother/son relationship. He chose, about a year ago, to direct all his anger and frustration over school and anything else wrong in his life at me. Everything is my fault, apparently. He told me I was no longer his mother (he fired me) and he wasn't going to speak to me ever again. And many other more horrible things. I was left shocked and reeling. And yes, he is THAT stubborn and has pretty much stuck to his threat to cut me out of his life entirely.

I've sat here helplessly trying to work some mom magic by continuing to quietly provide him with things he needs, support him when he isn't looking, and keep out of his way. When he's angry about something, the "never speak to you again" rule gets tossed out in favor of venting at me and trying to start a fight. He likes to take a far right political stance and goad me about our current president. *sigh* If being a punching bag and stress reliever is my only role, then so be it. At least I am helping in some small way.

I could use some wisdom on how to repair our relationship. He says he won't even consider respecting me until I've lost weight, dismantled my home office here in the family room (where it has been since long before he was born) and disappearing from his sight. Leaving the family or dying would also be good.

I plan to talk with his therapist and see if he can help. This has gone on too long. A year. A whole year of not being allowed to be his mother. No one told me being a parent would get THIS hard.

Meanwhile, I really hope and pray he makes the team. He looks like a football player. I just wish I could get a photo of him in his gear. Not being allowed to photograph him breaks my heart the most.

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