The One Where I Spill My Guts About My Son’s Behavior

I’m going to be honest with you guys. I’m really tired of my son.

The level of disrespect and general level of unhappiness is becoming so distressing that I’m barely functioning as his mother. I don’t want to be around him. I don’t want to do anything for him.

I’ve given this so much thought – maybe too much. What am I doing wrong? Why is he so unhappy? Is he depressed? Do we have a real issue here?

I don’t have the answer. He is generally a normal, happy boy. Until it comes to me or his father. The way he treats us is just…horrifying. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING is ever right. Ever enough.

Why? How did we create this person who disrespects, demands, and blames us for everything? How did he become so…spoiled?

What do you do when all you want to do is scream, and cry, and hit, and run away?

What do you do when it’s always just boiling. Festering.

When the last thing you want to hear is anyone’s voice. Whether disrespecting, whining, asking, needing.

When you can’t for the LIFE of you imagine what else they could possibly need. What you AREN’T doing?

When the more you give them, the more they want. The more they complain. The more they tell you they hate you. What a terrible mother you are.

Who am I raising? And what am I doing wrong. Isn’t the way he treats me a reflection on my motherhood?

I love him so much. This is not the mother I wanted to be. I wanted to be the mother who has long talks, and listens, and encourages moving away from the norm. Using imagination, experimentation. Trial and error.

But I’m not.

I’m the mother who needs strict adherence to the rules. The routine. Do it now the way I want it done before my head blows off.

I don’t know why. Because I work from here, and I need some level of understanding and order? Because I just need people to not be contradictory even for just a little while?

I don’t know. But please tell me I’m not alone. And that it will be okay.

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