When Adam first started junior high, he had tremendous support. I met the principal the day I registered him for school--a total honey badger. Perfect lady to have on Adam's side. Smart. Tough. Sharp. Soon, the teaching staff fell in love with him, which was comforting. He has always been comfortable around adults, and he felt safe with their presence and attention.
His stress level increased. He had days when he didn't want to go to school. I would take him to school, and he would refuse to leave the van. He would cry bitter, and defiant tears. Sometimes he won. Sometimes I won. Sometimes, from the curb of his school, I had to call the school office for reinforcement.
I had gotten a job as as a server at a country club halfway through Adam's 7th grade year. My life in Nebraska had me at home full time, raising the kids, and homeschooling them. This was a life we chose, and it was a life we loved. But, my choice to move to California left me on my own, with no resume. Working as a server was all I could find to do, but it was great, because it increased my hourly income when I factored in my tips. The downside was that I had to work a lot in order to survive. Which meant less time at home. Less time to care for my family. For the kids who were used to my availability, it was a huge stress.
After the children and I lived in California for a year, my husband moved from Nebraska to join us. He had stayed behind in Nebraska when we moved. He spent the year in counseling. We moved into a townhouse, and not sure that he was fully recovered from his anger issues and control, I could only have us live as roommates. It was a practical decision. The kids were suffering with me having to work and be away so much, and with the separation of their parents and life changes. He could help out, and give himself to their needs. My deepest hopes and dreams were that he would be available to them for the first time, ever. That we could heal. We worked on rebuilding our life together.
His grades fell. His episodes of not wanting to go to school increased. He was always kind and respectful to the staff, but they could still see signs of stress. We made the decision to have a counselor from a local counseling center come to the school weekly to meet with him. And in addition to the counseling through the city, we got both him into private counseling, as well as encouraging his involvement in the youth group at church.
Never, when I separated the children and myself from my husband, did I want the end result to be divorce. It was a separation, for the sake of reconciliation. Beauty from ashes. With great hope that our nightmare would be behind us, and that we would emerge a stronger, more healthy family.
But, after a year of living together, it was evident that my husband hadn't changed in the ways that we needed him to. Things started out so good. He was available to the kids. Responsive to their needs. Patient. Joyful. He wanted us to move back to Nebraska, and since that was where we had spent the majority of our life together, where all but Tessa had been born, the kids and I wanted to move back too. But he didn't want to move back to Gothenburg, where our life had been before. He wanted us to live in a community completely new to the kids and me. The one he had moved to a few months after we separated, before the kids and I came to California. It was a 5 hour drive from Gothenburg.
I had too many people advising against it, concerned about him relocating us to a new community. Fearing that our lack of an established support system would too easily enable us to revert back to our former roles. That the kids and I would too easily be left with a life of control and abuse. I presented these concerns of so many of our friends and family to my husband. Not that any of them thought that there was no hope; they just thought that it was too soon. He responded negatively. He was mad that I listened to them. Mad that I needed, or even wanted more time. Over the days and weeks following, his anger increased. He acted out more against the kids. He resented me. Despondent, I made the decision to file for divorce. Tessa, Abi, Lee, and I moved to a less expensive house closer to my parents' house, and my husband moved into an apartment. With Adam. Our family was divided.
Although he had moved out of my house, I stayed involved in Adam's life. High school was a nightmare for him. The rougher kids he had gravitated toward before were now into bigger things. Gang activity was prevalent in his school. He joined a group of kids that had gang ties, and were very gang-like in their behavior. Brotherhood. Violence. Bad attitude. Defiance.
We kept him in counseling. Still, he was slipping away. He failed every class in the first semester of his freshman year. I was at his school a lot, meeting with his guidance counselor, and teachers. They observed that Adam was deliberately failing. Two teachers told me he was the smartest kid in their classes. The other kids would go to him for help, he would give it, but yet, he himself would fail. Next, he failed his second semester. He had to leave the school and go to a charter school that had an independent study program. As bad as this was, I was relieved, as it got him away from the daily influence of the gang he was involved in.
I worked a second job at a restaurant near his charter school. He had to go to school twice a week to turn in work and test. He would walk to the restaurant to see me sometimes. I loved seeing him, and drank in the opportunity to connect with my son. But, when he would come to my house, he would end up having loud, verbal outbursts, when we'd disagree over anything. Highly emotional, even attempting to intimidate me by towering over me, with clenched fists. I had to tell him that as long as he behaved that way, he couldn't come to my house. I would not subject our family to that kind of environment. Our family. Where was our family? How had this happened?
I was dying, or thinking about it, at least, and trying so hard to heal. I was in Celebrate Recovery, and I was seeing all of the wrong ways in which our family had functioned. The wrong ways in which I had functioned. I started making changes. In everything. No more undisciplined disregard for keeping up our house, though this part was hard, with me working 6-7 days a week. No more accepting laziness as normal. No more eating whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted. And for me, no more wrapping the essence of my entire being into doing whatever I needed to do, to make and keep my children happy. They had to take responsibility for that, accepting my guidance and example, but doing the work to achieve it, themselves. If they weren't happy, they could no longer project their disappointments onto me, expecting me to make happiness happen for them. We all had to accept the things that had happened in our family, and then do what we needed to do, to make our family healthy, and good. A lot of changing had to take place. The combination of the way I approached them and life itself so differently from how they were used to me being their entire life before, and having our life be so different, was very threatening and uncomfortable for them.
But, yet life with their dad was as it had always been before. It was normal for them. The way they were used to life being, even if it was dysfunctional and unhealthy. Gaming as much as they wanted, not having to do house chores, or pick up after themselves. Living under the rule and control of their dad, complete with verbal insults, and loud outbursts. Hating the new feel of home with me, and craving a feeling of normalcy, Tessa eventually moved out and lived with her dad and Adam. Our family was truly divided.
It was around the time that I was really thinking about that concrete median on the freeway, that Hugo, a high school mate and friend of my sister's husband, came into our life. When Tessa and Adam came over for visits, and Hugo was at my house, they were comfortable with him, and enjoyed being around. Our times together were more pleasant. Less stressful.
The divorce was final in early December, 2009. Hugo proposed Christmas Day, at my parents' house. Adam was happy with the engagement. Feeling urgency to get on with our life and create a healthy and new normal for the kids, we married two months later. He lived with me after we married, until we bought our current house in Glendora. I quit my job, and we moved. This was nearly two years ago.
Just before we moved, when I told Adam that I was quitting my job, and that we were going to be moving to Glendora, he shocked me when he said, "Mom, I can't tell you how long I've been waiting for you to say that." And then a few weeks later, he said something else that shocked me even more. He said that he wanted to move out of his dad's house, and move in with Hugo and me.
Hope. But, there were obstacles in his future that would challenge whether or not he was really ready to take life seriously, put away old habits, and pursue a better path. He still had a rough road ahead of him.
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