The next time I spend a holiday with Red will be at his house, with his wife and children. I will sit there and whine and complain about how boring everything is, how disgusting the food looks, what I don't want on my plate. I will talk about how I will throw up if I eat one green bean. I will scream how unfair my life was while I was raising him. Then I will laugh manically all the way home.
In the days and weeks leading up to Thanksgiving, I knew that I should have sent him away, or I should have gone away. I looked in to tickets to California for me and Blue. When I brought it up, I got the major guilt trip from my mother. "What am I supposed to do while you're gone?"
"Um ...you could go with me and stay through Christmas with your son." She wasn't trying to hear that.
She has not picked up on the fact that our family can not always be traditional. We can not enjoy all being at home, for extended amounts of time without there being some fall out. Simple holidays at home don't happen unless one or more people leave this house.
Life got hectic with my husband's travel schedule and everyday details. Before I knew it, Red was scheduled to work and I was tasked with figuring out how he would get to and from work. Getting away was looking bleak.
Wednesday morning after sleeping for 8 hours, I woke up still exhausted. I wondered what the heck was going on with my body? Why was I still so tired? Ha! Depression much? Whether or not I wanted to be depressed, my body clearly was. That evening while I tried to do some food prep, Red came down and started being nasty and negative with his mouth. Clearly he wanted to pick a fight with me. I couldn't take it. I got up and went upstairs and went to bed.
That night I wrote on Facebook...
"I think my body is revolting against my preparing Thanksgiving dinner. I tried. I got as far as seasoning the turkey. Pray that I get it together by tomorrow, or that we find reservations. I'm out ..."
I woke up Thursday morning feeling somewhat energized. He woke up Thanksgiving morning with the same nastiness. Yelling, angry, and being argumentative with everyone.
My brother called in the middle of his yelling, telling people to shut up, etc. As, I told my brother what was going on, Red ran up the stairs to his room. He knew my brother would want to talk to him and he did not want to hear what he had to say.
A few minutes later, my brother/his uncle called him on his cell phone. After their conversation, Red came down and apologized to everyone.
We had peace for the next several hours while I cooked my ass off. Seriously...I have very little ass left.
|Blue helped me make the stuffing.|
Doesn't he look thrilled?
I made everything. Turkey, tenderloin roast, stuffing, sweet potato pudding, macaroni and cheese. My mom made the green beans. Blue helped me with the stuffing, which has several steps and he did great. Everything else was on me. Red was in his room doing whatever. He was quiet and that's all I cared
|My perfect tenderloin roast marinated with fresh basil and rosemary|
At about 6 o'clock Red emerged, hungry, grumpy and once again yelling. "This day is so boring! Why is it so boring? Why don't we have any company? Why didn't we have a party! This is the most boring Thanksgiving ever!"
"We don't have company because I never know exactly how you're going to behave. Up until yesterday, I didn't know if I would have enough strength to prepare a meal, much less entertain guests. How can I plan ahead of time for a party when I'm constantly dealing with your antics? You want to know why their is no party? Your behavior is why we have no party!"
I ended up sending him upstairs with his dinner. I refused to have him frowning and screaming at my table. By the time I actually served dinner, I was just totally spent. Everyone was going on and on about how delicious everything was. I couldn't even really taste it. I made this beautiful tenderloin roast that I had been dying for. I did not eat one bite. Half-way through the meal, salty tears filled my eyes and eventually my plate. I was thoroughly, disgusted.
My husband was an angel. He held me, poured me a drink and encouraged me to go lay down. Blue was a real trooper. He thoroughly enjoyed everything that I prepared. When he saw that I was upset I heard him ask his dad, "Is she o.k.? Did I do anything?" Later, he came to my bedroom to see about me and asked if I was o.k.
A few weeks ago I wrote about the fact that it is time for Red to go. It's time for him to move out of my house and into some kind of supported living environment. Since then, I've been busy hooking him up with services through different agencies, trying to get that ball rolling towards getting him the support that he needs. I wanted to put him into the best possible situation, so that he can go on from there and thrive.
A few minutes, after my husband told Red how much he had upset me, he was banging at my door, demanding that I open it. He did not care about how bad I was feeling. My exhaustion meant nothing to him. As usual,it was all about Red.
Hours later, when he came to apologize there were still excuses. "People in high school treated me like crap. That's why I behave this way." The excuses nullified the apology. For once in your life, take responsibility for your actions.
I'm done. I don't care where he goes or how perfect the situation is, I just want him away from me. I have to think of my own mental health. I will be working overtime to make his departure from this house, a reality.