middle of the night

I woke up in the middle of the night and now I can't go back to sleep.

Frustration, anger, sadness, disappointment, hurt, regret . . . my son. How can someone I loved with all of me - turn against me and not be the person I thought they were? I mean, I try and stay optimistic and try and tell myself that he will grow and become what I know he is but he's going to be 29 years old and it doesn't seem to be happening anytime soon. When I was pregnant and carrying him all I could do was imagine who he was going to be and how much he was going to be loved. This continued to grow as he was born and grew. I thought I would burst with all of the love and pride I had for him. I've always been there for him and for his sister. They have been my life. Everything I have done has been for them. All I have ever wanted in this life is a complete family. The only thing I've consistently wanted to be is a mother, grandmother and great grandmother.

My son lives in an old beaten down trailer in a trailer park with a woman who knows how to milk the government and any and all charities she happens upon. He allows this. My son does go to work. He works at a publishing company running some machine that pops out magazine like things. At least he is working. He went through this phase from 16 to early twenties where he was into drugs and running as far away from home as he could. At least he is working steadily. Here's the part where I tell you that he could be doing so much more. He draws so very well. He is so very talented. He is smart. He could be whatever he wanted to be but his big failing is that he is lazy. As talented as he is - he is that lazy and unmotivated. So I'm happy that he at least works now.

He sits in that trailer house watching tv or playing video games while my Grandson vegetates in the back bedroom with a television blaring 24 hours a day seven days a week. He's almost three and you can barely discern what he says. He tries to talk. He's still in diapers. He's so bright and shiny and full of life but he is a zombie every single time I walk into that place. He doesn't even hear when I walk into that room talking to his brother. He is frozen and staring into that stupid box. The only way I can break his concentration is to put myself physically between him and that hellish box. Then he breaks his concentration and for a second breaks into that great big grin and says, "Me Ma!". Then he goes into the living room to the front door and starts putting on his shoes. He wants out of that place. At least he has until the last few times. Now he has given up too. He's stuck there. He always ask about Scout and my truck and Richard but he knows he is resigned to that room and that stupid tv. Yes, tears are streaming down my face. No one should have to live that way much less grow up that way.