I'm physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted. The physical and mental exhaustion are mostly due to it being the 3rd week of school. The children are starting to come around...but it's been a battle. I know it's worth it, but damnnnnnn. I'm tired. (Add to that that my classes are packed out because the counselors know that I'll take care of "their babies"...and it just gets worse.)
The emotional exhaustion is due to my getting my heart squished this week. I worried all weekend about Fridayboy...so I started the week already a little on edge. He came by to see Tuesday morning - with girlfriend in tow - they are back together, and things are "good". (We'll see...)
Buggy has been very distant since the start of school. I have known....known....that there's something big going on with him, and he's dodging me to keep from sharing. He's claimed that he's just been busy....but something in my gut told me that wasn't the case.
I had a conversation with him at lunch Tuesday about his decision to drop gymnastics. I asked him why he wanted to....he said "because I do". (Which we all know is not an answer.) I asked him a couple more times...to no avail. I finally hit my limit of getting shut out and walked away from him. Rude? Perhaps. Honest? Definitely.
I turned around and asked him, "You get that I'm not happy with you, right?"
He said "Yeah."
punk
Wednesday I talked to his counselor to help him get one of his electives changed from a hard one to an easier one. (Turns out it was too late to drop gymnastics...so he has to stay in. Had he talked to me LAST WEEK I could've told him about the deadline...punk.) He was with the recruiter to get officially signed up....and was relatively appreciative for my help.
That evening Crazybrother calls me to ask me to be a reference for him with the Army. I said yes....he said, "Miss! Buggy is IN! He's a Marine!" We both whooped and hollered a little bit...talked about the benefits of the Marines vs. the Army....and then Crazybrother served up the buzzkill...
"Yeah, Miss. I told him to come by your room and tell you...he said he didn't feel like it."
I'm sorry. But could you remove your foot from my heart, please.....
When I'm able to breathe again, I ask him, "I realize you're probably not going to answer this, but I'm going to ask it anyway. What is going on with Buggy? Is there something going on at home? Why is he dodging me?" To which, he replies...
"Miss, you'll have to ask him. You should call him. He's on his way here...."
and then the out-of-the-mouths-of-babes part, as he's thinking out-loud....
"...but...he probably won't answer your call..."
and then he realized that that part was, in fact, out loud. And that I heard it...
Through the sound of my heart being squished on the floor...I said, "Yeah. That's what I figured. Tell him I said congrats......"
At that point, I hear Buggy come into the room....they exchange greetings...and I tell Crazybrother, "I'll see you at school...bye."
I spent yesterday evening alternating between being pissed off...being hurt....realllllllly wanting to cry....and realllllly wanting to pinch his head off. America's therapist, Dr. McGraw, says that anger comes from 1 of 3 sources: fear, frustration, or hurt. To which, I reply, "check. check. check."
Another one of Buggy's teachers talked to me today. Said Buggy had come by to see him today, and that he looked like hell. And that Buggy said something about not living at the apartment for much longer. Mr. Teacher didn't know why exactly....didn't know if it was everybody was moving or even if it was a 'voluntary' move....but said Buggy looked stressed.
I told him I was pretty much through with Buggy until he had a grande epiphany. Yes, I love the kid like he was my own. Yes, I care that he's going through hell. Yes, I will be there for him if he needs me. But he's going to have to realize that he's not an island. That asking for help is not a sign of weakness. And that you shouldn't shut out people who are trying to help you....because not only does it distance you from their help, but it hurts them. Because as much as that person may try to come across as a cast-iron hardass....she still has a heart. And it still hurts very deeply when the rejection happens so suddenly and completely.
Yes, I realize he's only 17....still a child in many ways. I'm trying to show him grace and mercy while he's coming to terms with these realizations -- which is why I haven't shown up on his doorstep and whapped him to give him a reality check. I am going to try to wait and see if he surfaces and comes to talk to me.
This is going to be one of the hardest things I've ever done.
I don't wait well.
-hasta