Open Letter to My Grown Sons…

Dear Boys,

I have loved you from the moment I conceived you. I’ve loved you through colic, sickness, grade school difficulties, high school dramas, nights you would sneak out of the house, exorbitant cell bills, your non-paid bills, your high school graduations, the end of your military career, your accidents, your hospitalizations, unfortunate incarcerations; driven you where you needed to be when you needed to be there, supported you emotionally, financially, and just about every possible way a mother can support her sons.

You both are grown.

You know…GROWN UP; adults; capable of making your own decisions, your own mistakes.

And mistakes you have made. PLENTY of them.

You’ve abandoned the home you purchased. You took (or took the rap for whomever did) something that did not belong to you. I have visited you in jail at every opportunity. I’ve gone into your mess of an abandoned home to try and salvage what I could of your belongings with the key you left me when you left the state and took off for points west, simply because you asked me to. I drove to and spent a weekend in DC to see you when you did something stupid and landed at Walter Reid Army Medical Center. I’ve driven you to Virginia to pick up the vehicle you had shipped to you. I’ve put cash in your jail canteen account, kept the account for your collect calls paid up so that you can hear a friendly voice at least once a week. I’ve tolerated verbal abuse at the hands of your fiance not once, but on two separate occasions, fielded nasty texts and messages, and made every opportunity to like the unlovable and disrespectful. I have lost more nights of sleep than I would like to admit to either of you.

That said?  It’s over.

I raised you both to be the best men that you could be. That you went from straight A honor students to grown men that have made unfortunate decisions is not my fault, and I will no longer go out of my way to clean up the messes that both of you have made. That abandoned house with all the crap still in it? It will sit there. Unless you do it, the locks won’t be changed, the door won’t be replaced, and you can find your own cleaning crew and contractor. I’m out. You want to get out of jail? You better write someone loaded, because I refuse to put my home on the line to bail you out. I’m sorry, but this is why you are still sitting in jail almost four months after your arrest. I will continue to visit you, but I will no longer continue to spend hours trying to track down your attorney, find out what’s going on, or spend my days trying to find you another attorney you can’t afford, because, quite frankly? While I love you, I didn’t do this, and I have my own financial obligations to deal with, and will not take on yours.

I have spent my last sleepless night in tears because you did something stupid. I will no longer get upset because your “better half” is a rude, disrespectful, and mean. I will never again receive a verbally abusive text or message. Harassment is what it is; harassment. I don’t have to like her, and she doesn’t have to like me. After all, YOU, Son, are the one that has to live with her. I will no longer wrack my brains until I’m brain dead to try and figure a way to get you out of the legal predicament that has landed your tail in jail.

I will own up to the fact that, while trying to be the “good mom,” I’ve enabled the hell out of you both, and for that, I sincerely apologize.

I have learned a very valuable lesson in the 48 hours between the afternoon of April 2, when I spent the better part of my day in a courtroom, and today, after having lost a night of sleep because I was so upset that not only would you condone the verbal abuse of your own mom, you would be pissed at me for sticking up for myself. That lesson is this: I raised you, housed you, fed you, and supported you until well into adulthood.

As of right now? You boys are on your own.

I wish you every happiness, but I will no longer neglect my household in favor of trying to help you establish your own. I owe you that much.

Good luck, boys.

Love always,

Mom

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About Julie the Workaholic

Mom of three (grown) sons and one (grown) step-daughter, wife of one, friend of many, and owned by seven 4-legged critters, writer, photographer, friend, huge fan of life, and most of all, lover of all things beautiful .….Getting healthy, and hoping to make a dent in the world in a most positive way! (And then there's my alter-ego, the Workaholic, who is me, just unfiltered.)
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13 Responses to Open Letter to My Grown Sons…

  1. ally617 says:

    Good on you, Jules. ❤

  2. Elaine says:

    Way to go, Julie. I’m glad you are finished with enabling. It will help them learn to swim or let them sink to their bottom faster, and the faster that happens the faster they can get help from *someone else* and get better. I am sending light, courage, and strength to you.

  3. carolynswork says:

    You know this is a really personal post you put up. Thank you. I have raised 3 boys. One still at home too. I needed to read this. I have been so much like you. So I thank you again:)

    • I am really REALLY happy that someone got something out of it. I thought it was hard when they were younger, LOL. Seems the older they get, the bigger the problems. I am learning how to disengage.

  4. It’s about fucking time. Now, that been said, I do not have kids. never could. I know you and I were raised up to respect our parents and treat them honor. When kids act like assholes, it’s is mom and dad’s duty to point that out. When I turned 18, my parents gave me a choice—college or get out of the nest. Soon as I got my diploma, mom and dad drop kicked me out of the nest. It was sink of swim time. If I fucked up, I had to own it. Wholeheartedly. I did screw up sometimes, and I figured out a way top get out of it, ir face up to it.

    Gentlemen, time to grow up. The nest is closed…

    Well done, Muffin. I have heaps of proud of you. I love you, hardass mom.

    • SD!!!! ❤ I love you, too.

      I can't remember a time when my parents had to clean up any of my messes. I do remember being half way across the country when my eldest's dad and I split up. Hell, I was homeless for a time (THAT sucked), but kept a job and found places to stay until I could get back on my own feet. I bet Mom and Dad don't know about that.

      No…Aside from borrowing a few bucks here and there, I've pretty much handled my own business. 🙂

  5. Elaine Estes says:

    Stands and applauds!! So sorry this happened but they will be better men for it! And you can have some peace! There just comes a point when you have to say NO!

    • Yes. This is exactly right. I still have one in the nest and he needs the attention and guidance right now, not to be left hanging out there while I run around trying to clean up everyone else’s mess. They can tend to their own and I shall tend to mine. THAT should free up a LOT of hours in the day. 😉

  6. Claire Lopez says:

    Good for you! Bravissima! I bet it doesn’t feel good right now, but it’s the right thing to do. BIG hugs!

  7. Susan D. says:

    Tough love is damned hard. But hopefully they will be the better for it in the long run. I feel for you. I really do. This brought a lump to my throat and a tear to my eye. And yet, I sense that you are doing the right thing. Good luck.

    • You know, it’s not as hard as I thought that it would be. I did most of my crying the night the one landed in jail, and again the other night when his case got continued to June, and then once again the other night when the oldest one turned the other cheek and sent the message that it’s fine to speak to his mother any ol’ way you want.

      Pretty much, all that’s left is relief.

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