So, I think I mentioned this, but I haven't needed to ever talk about this on here due to the fact he's been so much better.  But now?  Things have gotten worse again.  It's like where there is a vacuum, my son will come and fill up the space.  Why?  I don't know.  It just works out there way.  My mom stopped being an issue in my life and now my son has taken up that role.  

Now, I am NOT here to bitch about my kid and say mean things about him or make fun of him.  He's a good person who happens to have emotional problems.  He always had them since he was a little kid, but at seventeen, he turned into...something else.  When he was little, we took the advice to name his anger, so that way he didn't feel that it was who he was.  It was a separate part of himself that had its own personality traits (anger) that was a part of him, but wasn't him.  Little did we know, we were practicing IFS back then.  And he named his anger "The Hulk".  When the Hulk showed up, little D wasn't little D anymore, he was something else entirely.  But little did we know there was a worse, more angry Hulk brewing inside of him that, when he turned seventeen, was going to take over his entire personality.  And that ended with me having to place him in his father's home for a bit, as he was destroying my house and punching people in the face, and trying to put his brother in the hospital.  I almost called the police on him, but I am grateful I never did.  

When he came home, he was more agreeable, and I had gotten the book "How to Parent Your Out of Control Teenager" and it helped, tremendously.  We followed the rules set up in that book, and because of that (and as he aged), he got better.  He got so better that it was only once or twice a year he'd have a breakdown and punch something (or someone).  But recently, it got bad again.  To the point that he was destroying my house and getting into fistfights with his brother again at least once a month.  It's been ten years since he's been seventeen.  And just recently, I thought me, and both of my children were all going to die in a car accident, because of him having an episode in the car while driving.  And I almost jumped out of a moving car because of it.

See, my oldest son will wake up in these "moods".  He can be fine the day before, and then out of nowhere, he will wake up...I don't even know how to explain it.  Crabby doesn't even touch what he acts like.  I think the better word here is volatile.  Like a lit fuse waiting to explode.  And when he feels like this, he has ZERO ability to recognize he's being this way.  The thing is, he doesn't always explode.  So I always take it as "Oh, if I just stay quiet, everything will be okay, even if he's irritated."   But I forget: I am not the only person who lives in this house.  And that day in the car?  Was his brother pushing him while he was a lit fuse.  And BAM!  It exploded.  

The only reason this ever happens is when we don't back down.  If we stay quiet, and ignore his snippy angry mood, he won't ignite.  That's what happened when he was seventeen.  We had no idea that we were the problem (well, he was, but we were the ones who pushed him to become so bad).  So, if my son gets with an equally as argumentative person as a significant other?  My son will end up in jail.  Or worse.  

As little D got older, his moods evened out and he stopped being a lit fuse as much.  But we also stopped participating in his baiting arguments.  So he stopped igniting.  It was a mutual effort.  But like I said, recently, it got worse.  That's because recently, he's been prescribed Adderall, which is helping with his motivation (which he has none, due to his depression and ADHD), a little with his ADHD, and a lot with his weight loss (he has binge eating disorder).  And at first, it was bad, but eventually, he evened out.  But then came the weed.  And his weed addiction.  Yes, you can become addicted to weed, and it's NOT pretty when you go through withdrawals.  Esp. when your doctor doesn't give you your Adderall because he's on vacation.  So he was withdrawing from both and that snapped something in his brain, and now he's back to being a lit fuse again, even though he's quit marijuana.  

Don't fuck with your brain chemistry, people.  And especially not when it's working right.  

For, let's say about eight years, my son has been on an even keel with his moods.  Yes, he's moody.  Like regularly.  And yes, in the first four years we lived here, my son has busted a hole in his door, twice (which only made it bigger), broken our door that goes to the garage, wrote his name on the basement door (with swear words after it), almost broke a hole in my door (there's just an indentation), broke his glasses (we had to buy new ones), broke our remote (had to buy a new one eventually), broke the PS4 controller (had to buy a new one), and thrown numerous things at people (like cans and bottles, and the such).  And has been in a fist fight with his brother at least twice (once while in the car, but at least they pulled over first).  Punched my husband in the face (but then again, that one was bad for a reason outside of my son's control, even though he's still responsible for what he did).  And once caused my husband to try to walk home from Walmart, which was is well over five miles away.  Sounds like a lot.  But in reality, they are barely anything compared to when he's actually bad.  Those all were one-off instances.  And all of those things were happening while my mom was giving me shit due to her NPD.  But when he's actually bad, like he has been recently, it get so much worse, so much more violent, and so much more volatile.  And now we have the added part where he's been threatening suicide.  Like recently he threatened suicide because I didn't have the fridge clean.  Stuff like that, that makes no sense to be that upset over.  

And now he's trying to date for the first time in his life.  And I am terrified of someone else coming in and fucking with the mix of emotional issues my son already has.  I feel whoever he gets with, if they aren't right for him, they will be the reason my son ends up either dead or in jail.  

And of course my son can't hold down a job due to all of this.  So all of those things I wrote about that he broke has to be paid by us.  But not only that, he spends our money without telling me.  Recently, he spent almost $500 without telling me, and now I am going to have to restrict his access to our money.  BUT a huge issue is him spending it with Affirm, which makes it almost impossible to restrict his access.  

So, also recently, he's been coming to realize that he has zero ability to take care of himself and told me if I die, he will kill himself.  So that's fun.  Realization after realization has been hitting him, realizing just how mentally ill he is, and out of his desperation, he's been taking it out on me, saying I need to take care of him, or else he will die.  And when he says "take care of him", he means every second of every single day, in every way possible: telling him what to eat, cleaning his room, doing his laundry, managing his time.  And on top of that, doing all the cleaning of the house, all the cooking (which I already do), and come up with intricate meal plans, so he will never have to guess what to eat.  So my job, according to him, as his parent, is to manage every second of his every single day, so he stops feeling so utterly depressed because he's unable to take care of himself.  

And I know he's mentally ill, but I can't fucking do that.  He keeps saying "You're forty-eight years old!  Grow up!  Figure it out!  You're the parent!"  I know those words come from frustration and anger at his own inability to do these things for himself.  And I know he's projecting.  But can he even hear himself?  I want to say "Yes, kid, I am forty-eight.  And I've been doing this since I was twenty-one years old.  I am fucking tired.  I want my own life again.  At least partially."  But I know saying that is selfish, but one person can only do so much.  He refuses to let anyone else help him, it has to be me.  I am his safe person.  But geezus effing christ.  I am tired.  I am depleted.  And most all, I am only one person.  His therapist recently said that to him.  And it got him thinking.  

Oh, and by the way, his therapist knows NOTHING about any of this.  He's been seeing her for a year, and I've been urging him to tell her what's been going on, but he refuses.  So she's not much help for his REAL issues, but that's on him, not her.  He's been bringing me to see her over the past like six months, and it's all about how I am going to be able to help him, and how I've been the one failing as a mom because I haven't done enough for him.  Did I mention that he's always blamed me for his issues?  That all of his problems in life are everyone else's fault?  Yes.  That's how he's seen things.  Up until two nights ago.  

Two nights ago, he was scrolling through his phone and like a beacon of light from the heavens above, a thing popped up about Borderline Personality Disorder.  And he took a test.  And he passed that thing so hard that it's pretty much undeniable that he has BPD.  So he took another test, same result.  So he called me into his room and informed me, "Mom, I am pretty sure I have borderline personality disorder.  In fact, based on my results, I know I do."  

And now we finally have a name for what's been going on for his entire life.  

See, I already knew this.  Well, I suspected it.  Either that, or bipolar (since his depressions lately have been bad).  But I can't go to him and say "Hey, little D, I think you have BPD."  That would not go over at all.  And there was no way to drop hints.  Not any that would get him to figure it out on his own.  So I just had to sit and wait.  And see if his therapist suggested it.  But now he's figured it out himself, and we're going to go to his therapist and figure out a good plan to help him.  And getting a diagnosis may help him get SSI, since he can't take care of himself, like at all.  

Oh, he also recently got a diagnosis for POTS, which has been hard AF getting doctors to actually care enough to listen to him.  So, 2025 is becoming the year of revelations.  Thank goodness.  I feel like we've all, everyone in my house, have suffered for a long, long time without any light at the end of the deep dark tunnel we've been traversing.  And now, not only is there a light, there's a fucking oasis where we finally have answers and things may get better.  With this change him?  Not fully.  But hopefully, with treatment, he'll be on the right track.  And maybe I can get help for this, too, so I can have better tools to help him with.  So we all can move towards things that actually matter, instead of being stuck on this fucking broken record where I am the bad guy for not doing enough for him.  Nothing would have ever been enough for him, because I don't know how to treat BPD.  

Thank you Al Gore, for inventing the internet (tee hee!), and giving my son that ad at the right time so we can all find some fucking peace for once.  At least a little bit.  And now I can let out that breath I've been holding for almost twenty-seven years and know that at least with a name for what's been going on, there is hope.