A Dangerous Son

 

A Dangerous Son – An HBO Documentary

WOW...just WOW.

Did that just hit home.

I was all over the place emotionally. I laughed, I cried, I argued with the TV, and more than once I caught myself yelling at the TV, "YES! Exactly!"

If you've ever wondered what life has been like for me over the last decade, this documentary gives you a glimpse.

It doesn't tell my family's story, but it tells a story that feels painfully familiar.

One family featured was from Aurora, Colorado. While every family in the documentary struggled to find treatment, watching the Colorado family's experience hit especially hard because I've lived so much of it firsthand.

If you haven't seen it, A Dangerous Son follows several families raising adolescent boys with severe mental health challenges. This isn't about kids acting out or parents who "can't control their children." It's about families desperately searching for answers while trying to keep everyone safe, including the child who's struggling the most.

I have two teenage boys, both with very different mental health challenges. For this story, though, I'm talking about my oldest. My younger son has his own journey, but this documentary mirrored so much of what I’ve experienced with my oldest that I couldn't stop thinking about him.

He's 17 now.

So where do I even begin?

I guess we start at the beginning.

My pregnancy was mostly uneventful...except for one bizarre medical mystery. Around six months along, I ended up in the hospital for a week with severe kidney pain caused by a blockage no one could explain. After countless tests, procedures, and stents, the blockage eventually cleared on its own. To this day, no one knows why it happened. Thankfully, it never happened again. Just one more mystery to add to my collection...haha.

The delivery itself was pretty typical...well, mostly. It was a teaching hospital, so I swear there were about a billion interns in the room. Of course, I had FRIENDS playing on the TV because...well...of course I did. Haha.

When he was finally born, the umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck twice. He was blue. The NICU team rushed in and quickly took him to be checked over. Those few minutes felt like forever, but thankfully everything turned out okay. We went home a day or two later like any other family.

As a baby and toddler, he hit all of his milestones. Well...mostly. He never really cared much for crawling the "normal" way. He mastered the army crawl and got so fast at it that he rarely bothered crawling on all fours. Haha.

His younger brother was diagnosed with Autism at an early age, so our home became a revolving door of therapists for several years. By then my oldest was around three or four, and while those services were there for his brother, he naturally became part of many of the activities too. Looking back, I sometimes wonder if having so much attention focused on his younger brother affected him in ways I didn't recognize at the time.

Then came first grade.

One afternoon, I received calls from three different teachers. They were all concerned because my son had suddenly started violently jerking his head throughout the day.

I got him into his pediatrician as quickly as I could, and we were referred to Children's Hospital.

That was when he was diagnosed with Tourette syndrome.

We quickly learned that stress, anxiety, fear, and anger made his tics much worse. The harder he tried to suppress them, the headaches would come on too.

Kids can be incredibly cruel without realizing the damage they're doing. They accused him of faking it. They'd tell him to "just stop" twitching, laugh at him, and insist he was doing it on purpose. They couldn't understand that he had absolutely no control over it.

Not long after, ADHD was added to his list of diagnoses.

At the time, I honestly believed those diagnoses explained what we were seeing.

I had no idea we were only at the beginning of a journey that would change all of our lives.

As time went on, his behavior became more and more concerning.

By second grade, he had been expelled because his behavior had become a danger to himself and others. By third grade, I was missing work so I could sit beside him in class all day. I'd leave work early to pick him up after another suspension or another phone call from the school. He threw chairs across classrooms. He screamed at teachers and classmates. Some days, just getting through the school day felt impossible.

But here's what people didn't see. When he wasn't struggling, he was incredible. Kind. Polite. Helpful. Funny. The kind of kid who would go out of his way to help someone else without expecting anything in return. That is my son too.

Then came the pandemic.

Like so many families, our lives were turned upside down. We had just moved, he was starting at a new school remotely in sixth grade, and whatever balance we had managed to find completely disappeared.

His anger became more intense. He became increasingly aggressive toward me and his younger brother. Most of the aggression was directed at his younger brother. He ran away from home. He destroyed televisions, remotes, other electronics, toys, walls...if it was in his path, it wasn't always safe.

Over the next few years, we lived through what felt like an endless cycle of crisis. There were countless trips to Children's Hospital, seventy-two-hour psychiatric holds, longer inpatient stays—including one that lasted more than a month—intensive outpatient programs, medication changes, appointments, and waiting lists. We'd get hopeful. Then we'd get disappointed. Before long, we were doing it all over again. Every time we thought we might finally be getting somewhere, we'd find ourselves right back where we started.

Eventually, another diagnosis was added: Oppositional Defiant Disorder (ODD). At the time, I fought for that diagnosis because I believed it might finally open another door to treatment. Looking back now, I'm not even sure it was the right diagnosis. Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn't. I'm not a doctor—I never wanted to be his doctor.

My job wasn't to diagnose my son. My job was to tell the doctors everything I was seeing: the voices he said he heard, the suicidal thoughts, the homicidal thoughts, the destruction, the violence, the running away, and the emotional crashes that seemed impossible to explain.

I wasn't asking them to agree with me. I was asking them to keep looking because something still didn't fit. I was simply asking them to keep an open mind.

And here's one of the hardest parts to explain to people who haven't lived it. Colorado has resources. On paper, there are resources everywhere. But having resources and actually being able to access them are two very different things.

If your insurance doesn't cover it...if you don't qualify...if there isn't an open bed...or if you simply can't afford it...those resources might as well not exist.

That's what our reality felt like.

My biggest fear wasn't that my son was a bad kid, because he wasn't. My biggest fear was that he would grow into an adult without ever getting the help he truly needed. That he'd end up homeless...or in jail...or dead.

Not because he was a bad person, but because he was a kid who desperately needed the right tools, and no one seemed able to hand them to him.

Now let's get into the really hard part.

When my son was 13, I made a decision I still think about to this day.

I had him arrested. It was never a decision I imagined having to make as a parent.

Even writing those words hurts.

That day, he caused more than $2,000 worth of damage to his bedroom. During the incident, he shoved me to the ground and banged my head against a door. He wasn't acting like a rebellious teenager. He wasn't throwing a tantrum. He wasn't well.

By the time law enforcement arrived, he had calmed down. Because he was no longer considered an immediate danger to himself or anyone else, taking him to the hospital wasn't an option. The officers explained that if I wanted them to do anything further, I would have to press charges.

Those were the choices in front of me: keep him home and hope another violent episode didn't happen...or have my 13-year-old son arrested.

No parent dreams of making that decision. I chose the option that I believed gave us the best chance of keeping everyone safe, including him.

Do I still question it?

Absolutely.

I probably always will.

When these episodes ended, something else happened that made them even harder to understand. He would completely crash. After hours of destruction, screaming, threats, and violence, he'd fall asleep from pure exhaustion. When he woke up, he often remembered very little of what had happened.

That's mental illness.

Not long after that, another night changed everything.

He was yelling, slamming doors, throwing things, telling me he hated me, saying he wished he had never been born and that he'd be happier dead. Then he kicked a yoga ball directly at me.

To most people, that probably doesn't sound like much. To me, it was a warning because I knew the pattern. Throwing things had often been the beginning. Physical violence usually came next.

Earlier, when the violence first started, my dad told me to keep a baseball bat nearby.  I couldn't do it. Instead, I bought pepper spray. Not because I ever wanted to use it, but because I hoped that if things ever became dangerous, I could stop the situation without causing permanent harm.

That night, I used it.

Afterward, I cried harder than I can remember crying in a long time. I felt like I had failed my son, but I also knew something else.

Everyone in the house was safe.

Even my son later told the responding officers that he deserved it. He admitted he had been out of control and didn't know what might have happened if things had continued. That doesn't erase how awful it felt. I don't know if there was a perfect decision that night. I only know I made the best decision I could with the information I had.

Not long after that, people I considered close friends stepped in to help. At first, I was grateful. They gave my son another environment, another routine, another chance to decompress away from home. For a while, I thought maybe they were seeing something I wasn't.

Then another violent episode happened at my house. His mentor witnessed much of it firsthand as he became extremely destructive again.  During the incident, my son threatened to kill himself and threatened to hurt me.

I called the police again.

That single phone call changed everything.

Almost overnight, people who had once supported me began questioning everything I did. I was suddenly the bad mother. My house wasn't safe. I was the problem. Some family members believed it too. It was devastating.

These were people who had watched me spend years searching for answers, sitting through appointments, calling hospitals, missing work, and doing everything I could think of to help my son. Now they believed I was the reason he was struggling.

Eventually, the courts placed him with those same “friends” under a temporary kinship arrangement. For a while, everything looked wonderful.

Then the honeymoon phase ended.

He became destructive there too. He ran away. He became violent. The same behaviors followed him. Eventually, they asked for him to be removed from their home.  They discovered what I had been trying to explain all along, and in the end, it was simply too much for them.

This wasn't about parenting.

My son needed far more help than any one household could provide.

From there, he entered foster care. Because he was over 13, his wishes carried significant weight, and many decisions were influenced by what he wanted in the moment. The foster home gave him far more freedom than I would have.

At first, everything seemed fine.

Then the honeymoon phase ended again.

School problems returned. Legal problems followed. At one point, I found myself helping him complete court-ordered community service because the adults responsible for supervising him weren't making sure it was getting done.

Nearly two and a half years had passed, and I was still asking the same question I'd been asking since the beginning.

Can someone please help my son?

I wanted a full psychological evaluation. Not another twenty-minute appointment, another medication adjustment, or another discharge because he had finally calmed down. I wanted someone to see him from beginning to end. I wanted someone to see him when he was calm, when he was escalating, when he was at his worst, and afterward, when he crashed so hard he barely remembered what had happened.

I wasn't looking for a label.

I was looking for answers.

At one point, I became convinced that maybe bipolar disorder explained what we were living through. I read everything I could find. I listened to podcasts. I searched for stories from families who sounded like ours. Some things fit. Other things didn't.

Then I came across Borderline Personality Disorder.

Again, I wasn't trying to diagnose my son. I know I'm not a doctor, and I also knew he was a teenager. I understood why many clinicians are cautious about applying certain diagnoses at that age. What I wanted wasn't for someone to agree with me. I wanted them to stay curious. To be willing to explore every reasonable possibility with an open mind. To listen. To ask questions. To keep looking. Because I knew, deep down, that something still wasn't adding up.

There are huge pieces of this journey I'm leaving out. Entire chapters. Court hearings. Therapists. Caseworkers. Lawyers. Missed holidays. Broken relationships. What I now recognize as parental alienation. Small victories. Huge setbacks. Almost three years of our lives were consumed by a system that often seemed more focused on checking boxes than finding answers.

Eventually, the courts ended. I was awarded full custody of both of my boys. Their father also lost custody. That chapter closed. Not because everything had been fixed, because it hadn't, but because for the first time in a long time we could finally begin moving forward instead of constantly fighting to survive another hearing, another placement, or another decision made by someone who didn't live our lives.

Watching A Dangerous Son brought all of those memories rushing back. For the first time in a long time, I didn't feel like I was watching strangers. I felt like I was watching pieces of my own family. Different faces. Different names. The same fear. The same exhaustion. The same hope that somewhere, somehow, someone would finally know how to help.

As I watched these parents, I realized how easy it would be for someone on the outside to misunderstand them. There are moments when they seem detached, almost cold. You might question their words or wonder why they made a particular decision.

But what you're seeing isn't a lack of love.

You're seeing years of living in survival mode.

At least for me, it was never about control or power. It was about keeping my composure, making the best decision I could with the information I had in that moment, and doing everything possible to keep everyone safe.  When you've lived through the same crisis over and over again, you learn very quickly that if you lose control of your own emotions, you're no longer able to help the person who needs you most.

If you've never lived this life, I hope you never do.

If you have...I hope you know you're not alone.

And if you ever see a parent whose child is struggling with severe mental illness, please remember this: you're seeing one moment. You're not seeing the years of appointments, the sleepless nights, the fear, the second-guessing, the impossible decisions, or the love behind every one of them.

Mental illness doesn't just affect the person living with it. It affects every person who loves them.

Watching this documentary reminded me that our family isn't the only one living this reality. There are parents all over the country searching for answers, making impossible decisions, and hoping someone will finally see the whole picture.

I don't pretend to have the answers. I won’t ever have all of them. But I know this: my son has never been the problem. The problem has always been finding the help he deserves.

Until we become better at supporting families before they reach their breaking point, there will continue to be parents just like me...doing the very best they can with the information they have in the moment, hoping that somehow it's enough.

#MyBeautifulShitShow #MentalHealth #ADangerousSon #NotAlone #AMothersLove

 

Fooled Me Twice

I honestly do not even know where to begin. I am still in shock. Then again, maybe I shouldn't be. But WOW... what an actor.

So, you wanna know why I am baffled.  Let me tell you.

2024, one of my close friends came to me asking if I had a room to rent for someone.  I did and did not.  I had the room, just needed to make the room.  So we made room for her, but it wasn't completely empty. Some of my things were still stored there.

Nina moved in and, we were on a week-to-week agreement.  She paid weekly, and the rent was reduced because the room wasn't entirely hers yet.  We were two completely different people, but I could use the help and I really wanted to help her where I could. 

We talked daily, she helped around the house and worked her random jobs all week.  We talked about her struggles, her losses, and the ways we related to each other's experiences.  However, she and I handled our past trauma very differently.  Which is OK.  It was weird and fun to have her there.  She is only a few years older than me.  We were born into the same generation but grew up in very different parts of America.

I do not remember how long she lived with me the first time.  My house was chaotic then. I mean... it still is, but back then it was really bad.  She moved in, it was just myself and Wyatt.  But my ex came back to help and things were good until they were not.  I made the chaos and drama going on in my life abundantly clear, so she had an idea of what she was walking into.

Fast forward to whenever.  I think she stayed a few months.  While I was at work, she packed up all her things, left the keys on the counter and told my son she could not do this and was gone.  No text, no call, no note.  She did not owe me money.  She did not take anything from me.  In fact, she left things she could not take with her she wanted out so bad for whatever reason.  Blocked on everything and ghosted like a cheap date.

Let’s now jump to maybe the end of March 2026 where she unblocks me or whatever on Facebook and makes a comment on a post or two of mine.  So, I reach out.  I asked how she'd been and what she'd been up to.  She was not in Colorado anymore.  But she wanted to come back.  I explained that I was planning to move out of state...but I have a lot of work that needs to be done in my house in order to prepare to move. I told her if she wants to come back and help, she can stay rent free so to speak for a few months and then she would start paying.  There was so much to do and I had little time and motivation.

She got a flight out here so fast it was crazy but I was cool with it. 

Before she came out, I had one request.

Do not ghost me again.

We are adults. If you want to move out, tell me. If I need you to find another place to live, I'll tell you. We can have uncomfortable conversations. We don't have to disappear from each other's lives.

She promised she wouldn't do it again.

I believed her.

She got here, this time has a whole room to herself.  Her own space.  The garage fridge was basically hers to use, and she had space in the kitchen too.  Storage in the garage and a yard to sit out in.

She helped so much with the house.  I rented a 30-yard dumpster and we filled that sucker.  Wyatt and Nina did a lot more of the work than I did, if we're being honest... haha.  She really did help so much with the main level of the home and the yard. 

One of her goals was finally attempting the Manitou Incline, so a few weeks after she arrived, we went together.  I had always wanted to do it too but had never been motivated enough. Because of Nina, I can honestly say I completed the Manitou Incline.  The top was amazing.  

We talked about her coming with us out of state when we move.  I really thought of her with every house I looked at.  Making sure if it did not have a 4^th bedroom, it had something that could be turned into a room or another structure outside.  We did errands together, I would take her places if she needed.  We went to dinners with my boys, for Mother’s Day as well, did an escape room and probably more I am not remembering at the moment.  It was nice.  We were friends.  Or so I thought.

Today June 25, 2026 I was home sick again.  I have been sick for 2 days now.  I think it was something I ate.  Thank God I think I am finally coming to the end of it.  But the night is not over….haha  OK back on track.  She asks me if I need anything, let me know if she can help in any way since I am sick.  We talk on and off.  My son is on the computer looking for a job, she comes in and talks with us and helps some.  Nothing out of the norm.  She tells me she is gonna have her new friend come over and hang and I am like cool.  They hung out yesterday and I know how much Nina enjoyed her company.  They met a short while back at the gym when we went. 

Wyatt and I had to do a quick errand.  We were gone for about 20 minutes.  I told her we would be right back.  We go do our thing, and on my way home, my friend who actually introduced us back in 2024 sends me a message saying “WTH is going on?”  My reply “Huh?”  She then sends me a screenshot of Nina messaging her on Facebook saying never to speak to her again.  I am like I have no idea.  I will ask her if she was hacked when I get home.  I will be home in a few.  Then it hit me, well if she is there.  We both were like, “Did she leave again?”  I was like no, that cannot be.  Something is off.  I get home and I checked…she is gone!  I look at my phone and on Messenger I see I have a message from Nina saying “Please do not speak to me again.”

OK OK OK.  What in the actual fuck?!  I am irritated. We are supposed to be adults. Friends even.  How do you disappear again without saying a word?  We had a small thing the other day and I talked with her about it.  Told her why I was upset with what happened and we discussed it like adults and moved on.  I feel like she had been planning this for longer than that one small disagreement. It was something I had already gotten over. I only wanted to talk about it so we'd understand each other if it ever happened again.  But maybe it was.  I do not know. 

This is just not how you treat people. 

Just like last time, she owed me no money.  July was going to be her first month paying actual rent, and she did not take anything.  Just left a bunch of stuff.  Which I am not sure why she did not just grab a trash bag and take it with her.  They were things I see her use often.  Whatever, I am just lost. 

Emotionally, I am all over the place.  I am hurt and pissed.  I am confused and back to thinking what in the world is wrong with me that she would just up and leave.  I had similar thoughts when she left in 2024.  But in 2024 at least I could find some solace in thinking I get why she left.  So much crap with the courts, with my kids, with my ex, drinking more than I should.  But it was still a roof over her head, space to call her own.  Because back then she was living in her car before living with me.  This time she was using one of those room-rental apps—kind of like Airbnb, but for longer stays.

Then the good person in me is a little worried.  Is this new person that is helping her safe, will she take advantage of her?  And I will never know because we are not to ever speak again and she blocked me on Facebook again.  That's who I am.  I can be and am livid right now, but I am still worried about her wellbeing.  Do I throw out all her stuff or give it a few just in case she comes back for it?  I am OK with her getting it.  I know she has very little with her right now. 

Fool me once...Shame on you.

Fool me twice...Apparently I still have some lessons to learn.

But there will not be a third time.  That is for certain.

#MyBeautifulShitShow #FooledTwice #StillInShock #Trust #Friendship

Consent is Sexy - Dating after 14 years

Consent is Sexy

Dating again after 14 years.

Let's talk about that for a moment.

At the time of writing this, I am almost a 48-year-old straight white woman. Does that matter? I don't think so, but those are the facts.

I'm a single mom with two teenage boys who have mental health and other struggles. But that's not why we're here. Different stories for different days.

Anywho... a little background. (Again, another story for another time.)

My boys are from one man. My last relationship was 14 years long, but it wasn't with their dad.

I am a serial monogamist.

Now I'm slowly dipping my toes back into the dating world.

Let's get something straight. I am not a prude by any means. If you ever get the chance to experience me behind the bedroom door, it'll probably be amazing, often, and craved... BUT that is not what I'm looking for.

That needs to be earned.

There are key factors in dating that I think we should all know.

I can only speak for myself, but I don't like to be a bitch. There are so many social cues that, at least in this story, I promise this woman was giving. But eventually, I had to stop relying on body language and use my words.

Let's paint the picture.

I decided to get on a dating app.

I knew absolutely nothing about dating apps. I wasn't in a hurry to settle down, and I wasn't looking to date around. I was simply ready to get back out there a little bit and learn how dating even works anymore.

No expectations.

Just learn how to talk to someone again with the possibility that maybe, someday, it could turn into something.

NOT a hookup.

If you know me, you know I'm pretty honest and blunt. So it wasn't like I hid any of this. I made it clear that I was brand new to dating again, had no idea what in the actual fuck I was doing, and honestly wasn't even sure what I was looking for.

What I did know was this:

I missed companionship.

I missed having someone to tell the biggest news to... or the dumbest thing imaginable because, somehow, they were the person you wanted to tell.

Got the background?

OK... let's move on.

I matched with someone.

Honestly, even matching freaked me out.

He had liked me first and sent me a short message. I went to respond, but in order to send it, I had to officially hit "Match."

That little button made me panic.

It delayed me responding.

But I did.

We messaged back and forth, exchanged numbers, and eventually met for lunch.

So far, so good.

We talked.

Well... I talked more. Shocking, I know.

Overall, it was a really nice first date.

I even told him that asking me to lunch made me feel comfortable because there weren't any expectations. I also explained that I was completely green when it came to dating again.

This was my first real date in over 14 years.

I don't think he realized he was my first date, but he absolutely knew I was new to all of this.

After talking a little more, we decided to have a casual dinner at his place.

I brought burgers.

We ate.

We watched a movie.

And I was nervous.

Is he going to expect something?

Do I need to say anything?

Is it weird if I bring it up before anything even happens?

I mean... we're just eating burgers and watching a movie.

He's also older.

I'm 47.

He's 59.

Surely he isn't trying to rush anything...

Right?

Meanwhile, all of this is running through my head.

Quick sidebar...

Some really bad shit has happened to me with men.

Although I'm a strong woman, there have been times in my life where men have overpowered me and things happened that never should have happened.

Again... another story for another day.

We finished eating.

He put his arm around me on the couch.

Honestly?

It reminded me of high school.

You'd go to the movies, and your date would finally work up the courage to put his arm around you.

Kind of sweet.

He started rubbing my arm.

That didn't bother me.

But I also wasn't leaning into it or encouraging it.

I wasn't upset.

I wasn't thrilled.

I was simply... there.

Watching the movie.

Trying to figure out if I was accidentally giving signals I didn't intend to give.

He kept rubbing my arm.

At one point, I rubbed his leg a little.

Nothing sexual.

Didn't move closer.

Didn't change how I was sitting.

Then I caught myself thinking, "Wait... could this give the wrong impression?"

So I stopped.

I put my hand back on myself and went back to simply watching the movie.

A little while later, he leaned over and kissed me.

I kissed him back.

Not a bad kisser.

Not a great kisser either.

If that makes sense.

The movie continued.

I honestly felt like I was back in high school... trying to figure out if there was chemistry.

Then he asked if I wanted to finish the movie in his bedroom.

Truthfully...

I probably should have just said no.

Instead, here's what happened.

In my head, I thought:

"I don't mind finishing the movie in there. Watching movies in bed sounds comfortable. But I don't want him thinking that means I want to have sex."

So I said exactly this:

"I'm fine with finishing the movie in your room because it'll be more comfortable, but I want to finish the movie. I'm not wanting to have sex or anything."

Those were my literal words.

He responded, "Oh yeah... just to be more relaxed."

So we went into the bedroom.

We laid there watching the movie.

His arm was around me.

He rubbed my arm.

We kissed here and there.

He touched my boobs.

For me...

Boobs are just boobs.

Men seem to love them.

I honestly couldn't care less.

So him touching them wasn't some huge line for me personally.

I was still feeling things out.

What I wasn't doing was escalating anything.

I wasn't groping him.

I wasn't moaning.

I wasn't pulling him closer.

Did I shove him away?

No.

At that point, I honestly didn't think he was misunderstanding me.

We kept alternating between kissing, cuddling, and watching the movie.

Then he tried to go downstairs.

I stopped him.

I specifically told him he was NOT going downstairs.

He replied that he "just wanted to feel."

I said, "No."

Men.

I probably should have just left then.

Instead, we finished the movie.

We kissed a little more.

Then he asked me to touch him.

Seriously?

I said no again.

Something along the lines of, "That's not what I'm looking for."

He said OK.

We chatted a little longer.

He asked if he could take me to dinner sometime.

I told him we'd see.

Then I left.

The next morning, I took him to the airport because I'd already agreed to.

He kept calling me sweetie, babe, and honey.

When I picked him up, he leaned in for a kiss.

It honestly caught me off guard.

The same thing happened when I dropped him off.

Since then...

He hasn't called.

Honestly, I'm hoping he doesn't.

Not because I think he's a terrible person.

But because I realized we're simply not in the same place.

Now let's talk about all the cues that were missed.

Or maybe ignored.

I'm not perfect.

I could have been even more direct.

But that also could have come across as cold, rude, or like I was assuming the worst when maybe he meant nothing by it.

I genuinely wanted to get to know this man.

He was attractive.

Successful.

Financially stable.

Had a good job.

I truly don't know how dating works anymore.

But I know this...

My body language said I was friendly.

It also said there were guardrails.

When that wasn't enough...

I used my words.

In the end...

Did he violate me?

No.

Did he push my boundaries into a place where I became uncomfortable?

Yes.

The reason I'm telling this story isn't to shame him.

It isn't to shame men.

It isn't to shame myself.

It's to wake people up.

This man was former military.

Retired FBI.

Owns a successful business.

He's an intelligent man.

Am I really supposed to believe my body language invited him to keep pushing?

I don't think so.

I think he got caught up in the moment.

He stopped paying attention to the quiet cues and started treating my spoken boundaries like they were suggestions instead of rules.

I don't think he's a bad man.

I don't think I did anything wrong.

But I do think this is a wake-up call.

Maybe it was the age gap.

Maybe it was confidence.

Maybe it was assumptions.

Maybe it was simply two people who weren't in the same place.

Whatever the reason...

If you're dating, pay attention.

Really listen.

Watch.

Respect what the other person is telling you—with their body and with their words.

I shouldn't still be wondering whether I should have done something differently.

Maybe that's why I'm writing this.

Maybe that's why this becomes a post.

Or a podcast.

Or a video.

Because I know I can't be the only one.

This is the gray area of dating.

I've been part of the Me Too movement.

I wouldn't put this experience in that category.

But I do think this is the space where those bigger stories sometimes begin...

...when someone's boundaries aren't heard, seen, or respected.

And here's the honest truth.

Years ago...

In a different situation...

I might have frozen.

I might have simply submitted.

Out of fear.

I know that because I've lived it.

Past trauma has created more trauma.

But growth...

Growth has helped me find my voice.

Most of the time, anyway.

Baby steps.

Do better, everyone.

#Consent #Boundaries #RealStories #LifeLessons #Storytelling #WomenOver40 #DatingOver40 #DatingAfterDivorce

Why I Work So Hard

Whether you are new to my blog or you are a follower, I thank you for reading and following my journey.

I originally started this to let anyone out there know they were not alone and they did not have to be a victim.  I have slacked on that, not because I have not wanted to help, more-so because I became a mother of 2 wonderful boys, one on the spectrum and still adjusting to autism and the life of being a single mom.  I know I will venture back to my past to help those in similar situations.  However, currently for my family, I need to focus on the now and the future.

I have a lot of support via email and Facebook as a single mom.  Personally and physically...not so much, as I am sure many of you experience.  I live out of state from the majority of my family, my ex left to our homes state and does not help out with our boys financially or with any of our son's services.  Yet he wants to stay in their lives via Skype.  It is what it is and I will write more on that journey I am sure.  But like many of you I struggle with finances and making ends meet.  I have asked for help but I hate asking for help.  I have always been a helper and I am sure because of that it is why it is that much harder to ask,

So, instead of asking (unless I absolutely have to), I do what I can.  I work full time at an amazing job which come July will be my 10 year anniversary.  I look for any jobs I possibly can do for odesk, I look at other work from home part time job options.  With it just being myself and my two boys, having a part time job away from home is next to impossible.  I sell things I no longer need at all as well as donate.  I am an extreme couponer in which I have taught many on how to save money.  Now, I am an It Works Rep.  I am confident in their product which is why I chose to be a distributor.

I do all I can for my boys.  I taking any classes I can to be more educated about Autism for my son and others affected.  I try to help other families learning.  I volunteer with the Autism Society of Colorado.  There is not much of a free moment in my life, bit I would not change a thing.

I know it will all work out.  I know I will always find a way to provide for my boys.  For them I do all I can to make all our lives better!

Walk With Autism

Autism Society of Colorado is hosting their 3^rd Annual “Walk With Autism” event on June 14, 2015.  Please feel free to find more info or create a team here.

I had the pleasure of creating a team for my son Wyatt last year.  It was my first year getting involved and making a team.  All in all it was a huge success.  My goal was to raise $500, since it was my first year.  Our team raised just under $2300.00!!!!  Boy was I impressed.  The awesome thing about the money raised is ALL money STAYS in COLORADO to help families with services and such.

 

The event last year was so fun.  There were a few vendors, entertainment, Waldo on Stilts, Balloon Man Maker, Reptiles, Food and more.  It is a beautiful lake you walk around and there is a park for all the kiddos to play at.  Such a great Family and Friends event spreading awareness on autism, sharing stories and meeting some wonderful people you can now call friends.

Walk with autism in your life whether it be you personally, a family member or a friend, you know how lost and overwhelming you can feel.  I know for the longest time I felt so alone and unsure of what steps to take next and what was the priority for benefitting my son the best.  I have attended some classes and I plan to attend many more so I am as educated as I can be for my son and other’s affected.  Research and theories are constantly changing and we still do not have an official cause.  The numbers keep rising and we are currently at 1 in every 68 people are somewhere on the Spectrum.   It is more common in boys.

There is so much we can all do to help spread awareness, be more accepting and help teach those affected with Autism how to learn and succeed their way.

Please feel free to join and or donate to my son’s team WalkWith Wyatt.

Like Walk With Wyatt Community Page 

Easter Weekend 2015

What an amazing weekend.  The weather was perfect and there was so much fun family time.  On Saturday we went to Waterton Canyon.  All in all the mild hike was just over 8 miles.  I could not believe the boys did so well.  Of course when we had about a mile left, the complaining started….ha ha

We saw so many deer and big horned sheep.  The boys loved it.  They were hoping to see a snake and other animals, but these were just fine.  There were people fishing in the river and the boys would watch for a few.  Of course there were snack and potty breaks along the way.  We ate lunch at Lion’s Den and played in the grass for a little and then started our way back down.  At about the 2 mile mark from the car, we stopped at a lake area.  The younger boys stripped to their boxer briefs and played in the water, sand/dirt and with the rocks while the big boys skipped rocks. 

We were there from about 8:45am to 3pm.  The sun was shining and there was a cool breeze keeping the weather absolutely perfect the whole day.

The drive home, my boys fell asleep in the car.  That was very nice.  Then I showered them then me.  We grabbed a few things and then off to dye eggs with friends and family.  The boys had so much fun.  We had a wonderful BBQ dinner and just enjoyed our company.  A perfect Saturday in my opinion!

Easter the boys woke up, they found their eggs.  We had some oatmeal and just did normal weekend stuff for a bit.  The boys watched a show while I got some cleaning and laundry done. 

The boy’s dad arrived in town on Sunday as he had court on Monday.  So, I took the boys over to their Memaw’s house where they were able to spend a few hours with their father.  I was there the whole time as I was just not OK leaving them alone with him.  The boys have not seen their dad since he moved back to California at the end of February.  So, it was nice they got to see him even if he did not come out to visit his boys.

All in all, Easter Weekend 2015 goes down in the books as an awesome weekend.  We have not had those in a long time and I plan to do things like this much more often.

Struggling

I am a single mother of 2 boys, one on the spectrum and I work full time.  My soon to be ex and I have 2 boys together.  Our marriage had been struggling for a while and I tried really hard to work things out and be a family.  There was a lot of anger issues with him and depression issues.  I suffer from depression as well, but I am dealing with it with my doctor and I am on low dose medication.  I feel there is nothing to be ashamed of.  

Our youngest son was diagnosed with Autism on March 17, 2012, just a little before he turned 2, I decided at that point to end my marriage so I could focus on our 2 boys and this new journey through Autism.  At the time, he was the stay at home dad and I told him we would need to discuss what needs to be done since he is home with the boys.  The next day, he brought a U-Haul and took all his stuff and whatever else he wanted and left.  I had 1 day to find a sitter and I was just hit with the reality of my son’s diagnosis and all we have ahead of us.  

Since March 18, 2012 my ex has maybe had the boys a total of 30 days added up, he has not helped out financially at all and he is not involved with any of our son’s services.  I paid for his cell phone for over 2 years, as I would not have the boys there with no way to contact them.  When he did take the boys, I would usually need to give him food or money so he could care for them.  Rather than tell him he cannot have the boys because he could not care for them, I helped make it happen.  

From then till the end of 2013 I had been doing amazing financially with getting everything paid up and not living exactly paycheck to paycheck.  All without any of my ex’s help.  Then at the end of 2013, there was the first of 3 family emergencies where I would have to get myself out to California (which is where the majority of my family live, none really in Colorado where the boys and I are).  My grandmother was going to have surgery in November 2013 where the doctors stressed they did not think her heart would handle the surgery.  Thankfully she is still with us, but she has been in and out of the hospital or nursing homes since, I made another trip for another scare.  She and I are very close and family is the only thing that makes living in Colorado hard.  However, Colorado is my home (at least for now). In June 1014  my dog had an emergency surgery on her ear.  Then I was participating in one of the many 5K's I do, I had fallen and tore my ligament in my thumb.  I had an emergency surgery if I wanted to use my thumb ever again properly.  With all that happening and no extra income coming in, I actually had my car repossessed (which I have gotten back) and I have been struggling so hard since about the middle of last year.  

I have asked my ex for help with them and he always saying he cannot.  Then at the end of February 2015, my ex decided to say goodbye to our boys and leave to go back to California.  So, now it is just us.  I have a great full time job that I have been with for 10 years.  I am trying to find work from home jobs at night and weekends so I can pay my bills.  I have done some work on oDesk, but that is not making a real difference yet.  I am selling all that I do not need.  Unfortunately, I am not in a position to get a part time job away from my home.

I am actively taking classes and finding out any information I can for my son on the spectrum.  I am helping with the Autism Society of Colorado again this year.  I always help out anyone I can whenever I can no matter if that means I go without.  I have taught myself to be an extreme couponer so I can afford to keep food on the table.  I have shared my couponing with many others to help them save.  However, no matter what I do, I just keep getting further and further behind and I am very scared I will be losing the home we rent and possibly more.  I am ashamed to have to ask for help and I am still trying every avenue I can to bring  money in.   And now I am an It Works Rep, again doing all I can to bring in more income for my family.  It Works Page  FaceBook It Works Page

Thank you so much for reading this.  Even if this does not touch your heart to donate to my go fund page, a prayer for my family and I that it will all work out would be always welcome.