My Son Just Turned 20 Without His Mother

This time last year I published a tribute that I wrote for my only child on his 19th birthday. It was written through tears of grief, my agony of not seeing him spilling out onto the screen.

Since then I have written many articles about the struggle I have had, since, escaping a long term abusive relationship, to maintain a relationship with my only child, a stunning, young man with autism and a severe intellectual disability.

A young man who turned 20 a few weeks ago.

If you have been following my story you will know that I won the battle (so I believed) back in late October, and was reunited with my son at that time.

Looking back I now realize just how fragile that restoration of our relationship was. Only one thing needed to go wrong, and the whole thing would crumble.

I would be right back where I began.

And crumble it did. The young support worker who was facilitating our visits resigned from the position, abruptly ending my Saturday afternoon visits with my son.

Once again, I’m not seeing him at all. It’s been three months this time.

Once again I’m trying to navigate a road back to him, strategically planning my next step, acutely aware that whilst I’m a person with a high capacity, that capacity has limits. I have never reached the end of my capacity, and that frightens me.

Because I don’t know what happens when my high capacity runs out.

I can’t help but ponder how much more either of us can take.

No fairy-tale

Those few weeks where I was seeing him taught me a great deal about him, and myself. The reality was he was different. He had grown physically into a man, a man he will never truly be. He was less willing to just sit with me. He would smile, hug and kiss me when we met, but be ready to leave after an hour.

Like most young adults, he is not as keen to spend time with his mother, as I am to spend time with him.

It’s heartbreaking.

To make things worse, his father, who is the center of his world, is determined to punish me for escaping his control, and even though almost six years have passed since I left, will never cease his pursuit to destroy my life. He would love to see my career and marriage fail.

Because I wounded him when I left, and for that he will never forgive me.

Where to from here?

Recently, after weeks of silence, my ex-husband sent me a message via Our Family Wizard. In his message he rejected my suggestions of ways that I could spend time with Jack whilst maintaining my one essential condition.

That I cannot under any circumstances have any direct contact with my ex.

After trying to work with him for years after we separated for the sake of our son, I couldn’t take any more. On the strong advice of my doctor and counsellor I cut contact. That decision has had devastating consequences for my relationship with my son. But as hard as it has been, I still believe it was the right decision. Every time I saw, spoke to or received communication from my son’s father, I was retraumatized. The flashbacks returned, the sense of being crushed, of being unable to escape overwhelmed me.

My only chance of recovery, of restoration of peace and a somewhat normal life is to have zero contact with my abuser.

So I have compartmentalized my life as a way of coping with the relentless heartbreak that comes from separation from a much loved child. My son is in a box that I only open when I’m strong enough. His photos hang in places in our home where I need to be intentional to look at them. His box is kept in a place of safety, where it cannot be damaged, somewhat hidden behind work, and my other responsibilities, protected by other boxes that don’t contain, like his does, large chunks of my soul.

I matter too

I love my son more than words can express but I am fighting an opponent I cannot conquer. I cannot imagine trying to destroy my son’s relationship with his father. I also can’t imagine trying to force someone to communicate with me if that was unhealthy for them.

I can’t have contact with my ex, that is non-negotiable. If I must, then I may as well die now, because he is life destroying to me.

Some have called me selfish for enforcing this boundary, a boundary that protects my mental health and provides a barrier around my re-built life that my abuser cannot penetrate.

But I’m not the one using a vulnerable person as a pawn.

So I wait in the unknown, and place my faith in God that when the time is right, I will know what to do. Until then, my life stays compartmentalized.

And I will get up tomorrow and live, because I matter too.

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Previously Published on medium

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