The Hardest Decision

20/08/24

Today I told my alcoholic adult son that he must leave my house.

I know I’ve made the right decision but I still feel a bit sick.

The decision was made last night after yet another episode of his unacceptable behaviour towards me.

Having, around a week ago, fully recognised and acknowledged the relationship dynamic between us it’s been increasingly impossible to excuse, ignore or put to one side.

The anxiety I feel when his car pulls on the drive is undeniable.

The false brightness I use to try to avoid any opportunity for him to ‘take offence’ and start a row; the dread, and dismay, and hiding; the ceasing to do things I want to because they’re spoiled by his cavalier attitude to my space and right to personal choices.

All of this is happening with Kieran.

All of this was happening with EH.

I’ve been declaring I never again want to be in the position I was with EH and yet, here I find myself.

The need to ask Kieran to go was becoming increasingly unavoidable, but I still hadn’t quite got there, until last night’s incident.

He came back from work, already drunk enough to be the wrong side of the line where he becomes irrational.

Noting this I opted for avoidance, sticking to the garden swing seat rather than be inside with him.

This worked for a while but he did keep popping out, attempting to get me to engage with his shitty state of mind. I was perfectly civil and ‘nice’ but declined to really get on board.

Eventually I had to come back into the house, which unfortunately was timed just as he entered the kitchen to cook his dinner.

I can’t even remember exactly what he said, (something about arguments we’ve previously had), but ultimately I responded by calmly telling him that from my perspective, these things will continue to be an issue as long as he’s drinking.

Well!

Let’s remember, his alcoholism is an acknowledged fact. It’s not like he was hearing, for the first time, a suggestion that he had a problem, so I wasn’t expecting the type of defensive reaction that ensued.

He followed me up to my bedroom, volume of voice rising all the way, declaring that as far as he is concerned the thing causing the problem is me smoking weed, and that he can’t stand the smell, and I shouldn’t be putting him through it. I’ve got a cheek talking about his drinking but that’s just his drug of choice same as me smoking weed, and at least he’s not making excuses like I do with weed, and if I can choose to smoke that then he can choose to drink.

At this point, with every ounce of self control I could muster, I told him he was raising two entirely different issues, but regardless, I wasn’t prepared to have this conversation and could he please now leave my bedroom.

He continued saying things whilst stood outside the door.

Again, finding some control I didn’t know I had, I told him not to do that as I was not going to have this conversation with him.

He slammed into his bedroom and I could still hear him ranting for a while.

As is always the case for me with confrontational situations, I experienced a massive surge of adrenaline that caused all over shakes.

Not wanting to just submit to those feelings, I stuck on a playlist and did some writing.

It worked. The physical stuff calmed down quite quickly, and the expunging through writing prevented a downward mental/emotional spiral.

While I was doing this frenetic writing, the part of my brain that works away in the background suddenly, very firmly, said, “You have to tell him to go“.

I stopped writing, sat back, and rolled that around, testing out how it felt.

It felt right. Not easy, but right.

It’s the right thing for me, my healing, the changes I want to set in place.

It’s also the right thing for him and his healing.

Based on all the reading I’ve done in the last 24 hours, I’ve come to see that everything I’ve been doing, thinking I’m helping, has actually been enabling.

From the ridiculously low rent I’ve been accepting, allowing the general freeloading of food and grocery items, constantly lending him money, not holding him accountable, making excuses for him, allowing things to be brushed aside and not confronting his behaviour, my lack of boundary holding… none of this is healthy for me or him.

Decision made, it was far too late to implement, so I decided to not think about it at all, and to just go to sleep.

When I woke up it was the first thing I thought of and I still knew in my gut it was the right decision. That didn’t stop the nausea and twisting anxiety in my stomach though.

Fortunately, I had a morning Frazzled Café meeting booked, which, as ever, was hugely helpful to me, and helped calm the anxiety somewhat.

Less fortunately, the meetings are only an hour long, which still left me with around 7 hours of dreading and thinking and scenario running before Kieran got home.

Lena bore a chunk of that time burden, reassuring me that this was the right thing to do, and that no, it doesn’t make me the world’s shittiest mother.

A few therapeutic, knowledge gaining podcasts, and more writing took me through until my scheduled call with Altan.

Altan is Altan: having unbreakable faith in me, always in my corner, always willing to tell me the truth, cheering me on, lifting me up, laughing with me, crying with me, sympathising and empathising. He’s like my very own gift from the gods and I love him with every fibre of my being. He did and said all the good things, and kept me away from the anxiety.

Then Kieran came home and I steeled myself to do the deed.

As I’ve previously observed, the anticipation of a less than pleasant task is often far worse than the reality, and so it was with this.

I non-emotionally told Kieran the living situation isn’t working for me and that he needs to leave. I also said that I wasn’t suggesting we cease our relationship, but that living together couldn’t continue.

His response was a sarcastic, “Thanks. I’ll do my best to find something as soon as possible.“

I told him his has until the end of the week.

I got another sarcastic “Thanks for that“, and he closed the bedroom door.

I sat on my bed, observing both my physical and emotional reactions.

I had the adrenaline pump, some twisty anxiety, and a huge amount of sorrow, but I also had an inner sense of calm and relief.

I’d listened to my gut and it felt right.

Talking about personal wins with progress, or pride in new found self caring abilities, seems like a very weird juxtaposition with the pain of this ongoing experience (for both him and me).

On the other hand, it’s a small positive to cling to in this otherwise dreadful situation.

This was good selfish, and I mustn’t let myself forget that.

Still bloody hard though.

MUSIC OF THE DAY : The Middle – Jimmy Eat World

JP