|The Boy and best friend, Tattie Whippet|
Where did my little boy go the one who was a cheeky little monkey, who loved finding things out, who ran with abandon, who giggled and laughed, who made up jokes and told stories, who had lots of friends?
He certainly wasn’t about this morning or indeed last night. And although I glimpse him from time to time it seems as though he is getting more and more lost and I don’t think I am helping him all that much. The thing is I don’t know how.
This morning he was a screaming, wailing foul mouthed termagant thrashing about in the car telling me he hated himself, hated me, and hated his brother. Saying how he wished he had never been born. And all because we had said that we were taking away his privileges because he wasn’t working. He isn’t even trying to try. He was giving up.
I know a lot of it is to do with the fact he is learning to try but to just throw down your homework because I suggested he use a ruler to draw lines and then refuse to do it was a little much.
I get this a lot with his homework and indeed anything we ask him to do. It is almost as if he uses his epilepsy as an excuse to not do anything that he doesn’t want to. It is such a battle to get him to do anything at all from putting his dirty clothes in the basket in his room, to brushing his teeth. I sometimes feel that he actually likes being a martyr, that he enjoys feeling miserable.
And through all that fog of anger and frustration I cannot reach him. I don’t know what to do. I need to be able to do something fast but what?
He has no self-esteem, and he constantly measures himself up to his friends and comes away feeling bad because he’s not as good. I try to explain but he doesn’t listen or cannot comprehend what I am trying to say.
I feel cack handed, awkward and stupid and while I try to sort him out I neglect his younger brother. God I wish parenting wasn’t so complicated. It’s not much to ask to find your little boy is it?