My son was the cuddliest baby. As a kid he loved legos, reading, holding hands, science and cooking. He's frequently in trouble at school. Over the years he got diagnosed with ADHD, and later autism, and later depression. I've prioritized his care, working the systems for him to get therapy, medical care, etc. I even managed to get him into a fantastic high school for teens with behavioral health needs.
Over the years his outbursts or non-listening have resulted in getting kicked out of many activities. playdates, summer camps, the cross country team, the public library, the machine-shop program he picked out, so many suspensions etc. With the help of therapists and many books, we've made huge progress in learning self-care skills and calming techniques. We've learned how to reduce emotional escalation by consciously walking away to cool off during arguments.
Suddenly he is six inches taller than me. A month or two before graduation, which coincides with his eighteenth birthday, he stops doing all chores and starts acting pushier than usual. The week before he left, he stared setting his alarm clock to wake me up two hours before my own, and then demanded I solve the problem by buying him an expensive vibrating alarm clock gadget (no).
Right before a (court ordered) week with his bio-dad, I put my foot down about the messes. I insisted that he put the books he'd left on the coffee table for a week, away on his shelf. He insisted on leaving them on his bed to force the (monthly) maid to put them away. He started complaining about me nagging him to pick up the random messes he leaves around the house, and I suggested we schedule daily cleaning time instead. He screams over me, "THIS CONVERSATION IS OVER" and just keeps repeating it. I doubt he realized that as he walked toward me, he backed me into a corner. I yelled at him to go outside. Instead he went to his room lamenting and packing. He politely asked me for boxes. It seemed calm and I said, "You don't have to leave. You could just be nice to me and we can pick a cleaning time". Of course, this set him off again. He told me he had a note in his backpack for me but I couldn't have it. He said "If you touch my backpack I will break your fingers!" Foolishly, I reached for the backpack. He grabbed it, hurting but not breaking my two little fingers. I hid in another room.
Bio-dad offered to watch him for the rest of the school year. It's cool that I'm safe at home now, but it sucks that my son is with the guy who used to hit me. (Yes, I tried to get full custody. The courts believed my ex)(I don't think my son is in physical danger at this Dads, because Dad's violence is only toward "weak" women. I don't think my ex is in physical danger from my son, because my ex is huge)
It's been three weeks now, the longest I've ever not seen my son. I called disability services and started the process of finding him a group home for adults with behavioral health needs. I worked with the school staff to get the ball rolling. This way, if as an adult he chooses to pursue this service, the paperwork is already done.
IDK what to do with myself. My career paused about eight years ago for caregiving responsibilities. My son was planning to live here for at least another year. At some point every day I am heartbroken and devastated and I miss our snack-time chats so bad. I miss feeding and playing with the cats with him. My son is an absolute blast to go grocery shopping with. I miss his texts and hearing him holler "I love you" every morning when he leaves for school. Etc. etc. I saw a baby bird on the sidewalk the other day, and fear washed over me. Will he be okay? But he doesn't fit under my wing anymore. I try to console myself by listing the things I've successfully taught him that will help him out, how to write a professional email, how to describe your symptoms to doctors, how to bake, how to do your own laundry.
I don't miss the exhaustion of choosing my battles all day every day. I don't miss always worrying about how to express my normal survival needs while puzzling out how to avoid a meltdown. I don't miss running to the neighbors house to hide when he blows up. I don't miss the anxiety of avoiding places I want to go, for fear of being kicked out forever. I haven't had a tachycardia since he moved out. I don't miss living with someone who refuses to play catch, watch TV, mow the lawn, drive OR ride the bus, go to DnD club, or take turns talking.
My fantasy is that if I give him some space, he will eventually decide to cooperate with finding more psychiatric care. Then, after some new therapy or new med situation, he will gradually become chill enough to visit for weekends. Maybe he lives in a group home nearby where he learns to be a decent roommate, and I pick him up to go grocery shopping every Saturday. I fear he'll accept his Dad's shittalking of me, and live a lonely angry life.
TL, DR: Kicked out my son for menacing. Sad and worried, but physically safe for now. Don't know how to format blank lines between paragraphs