Navigating Blindfolded: Parenting Through Challenges and Chaos
Yesterday was another battle. I asked my son to catch up on schoolwork, and it spiraled into a standoff. He’s almost 17 now, bigger and stronger than me for years now and when he gets upset, I feel completely powerless and, honestly, afraid at times. How do you parent when the rules of discipline no longer work?
I’ve tried everything: explaining consequences, setting boundaries, taking away privileges. But he doesn’t understand. If something isn’t happening right now, it’s not real to him. And to be honest, he’s been shown by everyone that he can get away with just about anything because, somehow, the blame always falls back on me.
When he was 13, he got physical with me, and I had to call the authorities. That moment BROKE my heart. Sure, he went to the detention center, but even there, they caved to his stubbornness. He refused to eat, drink, or shower, so they gave him his own room with a TV, brought him Gatorade and chips, and even bought him Pediasure shakes. He was found incompetent and released. I begged for an intensive program to help him, but because he wasn’t charged, they said there was nothing they could do, nothing except send me a $650 bill.
I called the mental health crisis line several times, desperate for help. Each time, they told me to give him back whatever I’d taken away to de-escalate the situation. So now, I don’t call for help anymore. What’s the point?
Setting boundaries with him leads to aggression or elopement, and I’m left feeling like I’m walking a cliff blindfolded, one wrong step, and I’m going over. It feels like no matter what I do, I’m failing him and myself. I’m exhausted, and the thought of giving up crosses my mind more often than I’d like to admit.
I know my son isn’t trying to make life harder for me. He’s dealing with his own battles, but it’s hard to hold onto that perspective when I’m scared and emotionally drained. I’m terrified for his future. Every passing day brings him closer to adulthood, and I feel like I’m running out of time to help him.
Reaching out for help should feel like a relief, but instead, it feels like a punishment. People don’t understand the nuances of our situation, and the support I hope for often turns into blame or added stress. Most people tell me I’m too soft, that I let him get away with too much. But how do you make someone bigger and stronger than you listen? And those people never want to offer a helping hand, they just want to point out what I'm doing wrong. His dad isn’t in the picture; it’s just me, day in and day out.
He doesn’t go to in-person school anymore, that was a disaster. The school called me multiple times a day to put out their fires, I couldn’t keep a steady job. Now, he does virtual school. In some ways, it’s better but also worse because there’s less routine and structure, and he’s falling further behind. Of course, it all still falls on my shoulders.
He has no social circle, just me. I’m his whole world, so I bear every ounce of his emotions. It’s heavy, a very lonely and scary feeling.
I worry about what will happen when he turns 18 and I have to fight for partial guardianship. I get sad thinking about my future if he never develops enough to understand actions and consequences. I carry the weight of not doing enough to prepare him for the world, but I truly don’t know what more I can do while still keeping myself safe. Even though he struggles and many see him as jagged, he truly has a heart of gold. He will always be the first to stick up for the underdog or speak up when he sees someone treated unfairly. That’s a part of him I’m so proud of a reminder that beneath the challenges, there’s a kind and compassionate soul.
I try to take things one day at a time, but it’s hard to keep going when the light at the end of the tunnel feels so dim and the walls seem to be closing in. If you’ve ever been in this place, how did you keep from giving up?
Now, in keeping with the positive mindset he "loves" about me so much, I’ll say this: I’m grateful for the struggles I’ve faced with him because they’ve taught me so much about special education and helping kids with behavioral challenges. I know that kids like him just need one person to show up, meet them where they are, and love them unconditionally through their pain.
Unfortunately, I’ve also learned that for him, that person can’t be me. There was a time when someone else showed up for him. They said and did the same things I had been doing and saying for years, but because they weren’t me, it clicked. It changed his world. It was magical! But life happened, they moved away, COVID struck, and puberty hit. Talk about a nightmare! He didn’t understand the lockdown and thought I was being mean. And then he went to stay with his dad, something I’ll FOREVER regret.
I don’t know what happened while he was there, but almost four years later, he still hasn’t recovered. The regression is indescribable. Still, I hold onto hope. I hope he’ll find that person again, someone who will meet him where he’s at, see him, love him unconditionally, and never give up on him.
It sounds simple, but he makes it so hard. Everyone who was supposed to love and protect him has hurt him and let him down. He may look like a grown man now, all 5'11" and 300+ pounds, but he’s just a lost, fragile man-child.
And although I fight daily to stay in the fight, there isn’t a molecule in my body that will ever give up on him.
Through all of this, I’ve learned how incredibly strong I am. I’ve faced things I never imagined and would never have chosen, yet I came out a better version of myself for it. I now see the world in a different light and have so much more compassion for others.
But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel like I was fighting this battle alone. This is no fight for a one-person army. I wish there were more spaces where parents like me could be supported, where they could be raw and vulnerable without fear of shaming or judgment.
If you’re in the trenches like I am, I see you. You’re not alone. Keep pushing on, one breath at a time.
xo,
Amy
