The doozie
I'm starting with my most recent, most heart breaking issue with being a Mormon mom. I know, but I have felt for some time that it needs to be said. It needs to be announced. It needs to be shared. I have no idea if anyone will ever even look at this blog, but my hope in sharing this is to let others know - you are not alone.
Note - I tend to go off on tangents and possibly rants, so try to stay with me.
My oldest child, "C", has broken my heart. He is 20 years old. He is not on a mission. In our 'Mormon' community, this is one of those things that possibly circles the gossip chain but that no one ever really wants to talk about. ("why isn't he on a mission? why did he come home early?", etc.)
We found out only a couple of years ago that he had been addicted to pornography since about age 9 - yes NINE! I had no clue. I just found out last week that a couple of my other children might have had a clue, but I did not. So after moving from the place he grew up in, to a completely different state, he went to the bishop in preparation for a mission. This is when we finally knew. We supported his efforts to overcome. We did what we could, but we didn't really know what to do. My husband took C to an LDS recovery meeting. C never wanted to go again. He didn't feel like he needed it I guess. He often thinks he can do everything on his own. After working with Bishop, they decided he was ready for a mission. So, we sent in papers, and we waited. After about four weeks (because it usually take two or three) I called Bishop, who suggested I call the Stake President, who said he would look into to. A call came about three weeks after that (apparently we had an unanswered question or something). San Diego, California. Yay! We got everything ready. He went to the temple. We had a farewell. We took him to the Provo MTC and I was so excited and thankful. (I am not a crier when it comes to my children leaving. I pretty much booted them to the bus when they started school.)
Towards the end of his two weeks at the MTC, his mission president (from the MTC) called and said he was having some issues. Issues with his eyes and headaches. He had an MRI. It was fine. We were actually able to talk to C and felt like we should tell him to stick with it. He was not happy about that.
Then he went to San Diego. About a week later, we picked him up from the airport and brought him home - honorably released from serving a mission. (That still doesn't sit well with me. I can't bring myself to say that he actually served a mission.)
He said he had witnessed a woman cut her own throat. His companions (he had two companions) didn't see anything. They couldn't collaborate his description of where they were or what he saw. He said he couldn't get over it. That it was disturbing his sleep and concentration. They sent him home.
We really didn't know what to do. He tried to take his own life. Actually, he didn't get a chance to try. I heard him open the front door in the middle of the night, so I got up to see what was going on. He was heading back to his room (which is right across from ours) to get an umbrella. There was a note by my bedroom door. He had a knife in his hand. He was wearing a suit. We didn't know what to do then either. We should have taken him to the hospital. We didn't.
He claimed he was having night terrors and couldn't sleep. He went to someone who could "fix" his PTSD (after only one appointment). As far as I know, he didn't attempt suicide again, but he probably thought about it. (That's a lame sentence, because you would think I would know if he did attempt suicide. Obviously there is a communication issue between us.)
Then he started going to the single young adult ward. Not. He said he did, and maybe he actually did. Once. He would leave at a time that would get him to church on time. But he wasn't going. It was a lie. I came home from church early once or twice and at least once he claimed that he just got home (but it didn't make any sense because of when that ward had their meetings). I just asked him if he was actually going or just making it look like he was. He did admit he wasn't going. I told him, either go or don't, but don't be deceiving about it. He stopped going.
He found a job, which was supposed to be full time permanent. He worked for about three months and then after the holidays, they scheduled him for less that part time hours. He quit. But he still had a phone bill and a computer loan to pay. He couldn't find another job. His money ran out. Guess who paid his bills. Yep, that's right. I don't know why either, but I did. For nearly a year.
The clencher. The most difficult part of this, so far, is the day he took a letter to Bishop to have his records removed from the church. I missed church because I was crying so much. It felt like the final pull of ripping my heart out.
Note - I tend to go off on tangents and possibly rants, so try to stay with me.
My oldest child, "C", has broken my heart. He is 20 years old. He is not on a mission. In our 'Mormon' community, this is one of those things that possibly circles the gossip chain but that no one ever really wants to talk about. ("why isn't he on a mission? why did he come home early?", etc.)
We found out only a couple of years ago that he had been addicted to pornography since about age 9 - yes NINE! I had no clue. I just found out last week that a couple of my other children might have had a clue, but I did not. So after moving from the place he grew up in, to a completely different state, he went to the bishop in preparation for a mission. This is when we finally knew. We supported his efforts to overcome. We did what we could, but we didn't really know what to do. My husband took C to an LDS recovery meeting. C never wanted to go again. He didn't feel like he needed it I guess. He often thinks he can do everything on his own. After working with Bishop, they decided he was ready for a mission. So, we sent in papers, and we waited. After about four weeks (because it usually take two or three) I called Bishop, who suggested I call the Stake President, who said he would look into to. A call came about three weeks after that (apparently we had an unanswered question or something). San Diego, California. Yay! We got everything ready. He went to the temple. We had a farewell. We took him to the Provo MTC and I was so excited and thankful. (I am not a crier when it comes to my children leaving. I pretty much booted them to the bus when they started school.)
Towards the end of his two weeks at the MTC, his mission president (from the MTC) called and said he was having some issues. Issues with his eyes and headaches. He had an MRI. It was fine. We were actually able to talk to C and felt like we should tell him to stick with it. He was not happy about that.
Then he went to San Diego. About a week later, we picked him up from the airport and brought him home - honorably released from serving a mission. (That still doesn't sit well with me. I can't bring myself to say that he actually served a mission.)
He said he had witnessed a woman cut her own throat. His companions (he had two companions) didn't see anything. They couldn't collaborate his description of where they were or what he saw. He said he couldn't get over it. That it was disturbing his sleep and concentration. They sent him home.
We really didn't know what to do. He tried to take his own life. Actually, he didn't get a chance to try. I heard him open the front door in the middle of the night, so I got up to see what was going on. He was heading back to his room (which is right across from ours) to get an umbrella. There was a note by my bedroom door. He had a knife in his hand. He was wearing a suit. We didn't know what to do then either. We should have taken him to the hospital. We didn't.
He claimed he was having night terrors and couldn't sleep. He went to someone who could "fix" his PTSD (after only one appointment). As far as I know, he didn't attempt suicide again, but he probably thought about it. (That's a lame sentence, because you would think I would know if he did attempt suicide. Obviously there is a communication issue between us.)
Then he started going to the single young adult ward. Not. He said he did, and maybe he actually did. Once. He would leave at a time that would get him to church on time. But he wasn't going. It was a lie. I came home from church early once or twice and at least once he claimed that he just got home (but it didn't make any sense because of when that ward had their meetings). I just asked him if he was actually going or just making it look like he was. He did admit he wasn't going. I told him, either go or don't, but don't be deceiving about it. He stopped going.
He found a job, which was supposed to be full time permanent. He worked for about three months and then after the holidays, they scheduled him for less that part time hours. He quit. But he still had a phone bill and a computer loan to pay. He couldn't find another job. His money ran out. Guess who paid his bills. Yep, that's right. I don't know why either, but I did. For nearly a year.
The clencher. The most difficult part of this, so far, is the day he took a letter to Bishop to have his records removed from the church. I missed church because I was crying so much. It felt like the final pull of ripping my heart out.
Comments
Post a Comment