Entry Three: (Under) The Wheels on the Bus

Part of this story is about me. It just is. For so long I felt selfish sharing my feelings, so I pushed them down and tried to ignore them.

That is a recipe for disaster. 

When Adam tried to drown his brother, John was upstairs doing the bathtime routine with them. He had stepped away to sort out pajamas, heard the laughing, went back in, and saw the scene. He immediately rescued Isaiah and took Adam to his room, then came downstairs to fill me in. 

Just days before, we had an argument about Adam that went the way all our arguments went: 

Me: Hey, I see this issue. 

John: I don’t see that issue. You are wrong. And if you’re right, it isn’t my fault. 

Me: This isn’t about fault. I want you to help get this issue fixed or at least worked on. 

John: You’re crazy. You always overreact. Everyone sees you overreacting. You just need to relax. There is no problem.

This constant denial and lack of help was slowly making me lose all hope. I was beyond frustration and anger. I was living in a lonely land that was gray. I had been struggling with post-partem depression since the twins were born, and my bids for connection with John were not only ignored, but they were also punished with accusations and attacks from him. 

So when he came down the stairs and was visibly upset, and he told me what had happened, this was my reaction: “I am done. SO DONE. You can take over figuring him out. I can’t do it anymore.” My words were focused more on my anger at John than on Adam. I was tired of fighting for help, being rejected or ignored, and then proven right about my fears. 

That response was not what John wanted. He wanted me to jump into action and try to solve it. As I always did. Of course, solving a problem that had been denied by him was maddening for me. I did call my mother and tell her what happened. Word spread through my family and friends, and a concerned friend offered to meet with John to see how he could help. I pushed John to go to lunch with this friend (who we’ll call Matt), thinking it would be good for him. 

John came home and said it was a good lunch. Shortly after, Matt showed up at our house. I remember the three of us standing in the kitchen. Matt said something like, “You need to focus more on your kids. You aren’t giving Adam what he needs. You need to try to help him.” To me. I was flabbergasted. I had stayed home with my children full-time for the last few years. I had dragged Adam to every therapist I could. I spent hours/days searching online for help. 

Apparently, the lunch had gone differently than John said. 

Matt began questioning my life outside of the kids. I had recently found a hobby that gave me joy: community theater. I was finding happiness for the first time in a long time. I was gone a few hours a week in the evenings, mostly after the kids were in bed. But me being gone seemed to really upset Matt, and he concluded I needed to “focus more” on my family. I told Matt, “That is ridiculous. I am home all day with the kids, and I have taken Adam to every counselor I can find to try and help him.” Apparently, that part hadn’t come up at lunch. He replied, “But you have given up on Adam.” I said, “I haven’t given up on him. I am just weary of trying to find the answer. I would never give up on him.” He said, “Well, that is what John told me.” 

You know how sometimes someone says something to you and you hear an actual sound in 

your head? This one was like a car hitting a brick wall. Smashing and glass breaking and destruction.  

John had told Matt that I was losing focus on my kids by doing theater and I was making new friends who distracted me. He had failed to mention all the things I had done to help Adam- my “obsession” with figuring him out; and most of all, he had failed to mention his own denial and reluctance to assist me. He just told him about my “I am so done” comment. He had thrown me under the bus, when I was the only one who had seen the issue and was working non-stop to help Adam. He had told Matt that he was afraid and worried, and I was being no help. 

I knew John was emotionally stunted. I knew John wasn’t helpful to me. But I didn’t know he would sell me out to a friend. This was some professional-level narcissism. He didn't want anyone to blame him for this horrible event, so he turned the focus to me. Honestly, it wasn’t the first time John had protected himself and threw me to the wolves, it was just the most upsetting. And it certainly wouldn’t be the last time. 

I finally convinced Matt that I was planning to help Adam, and of course I was because no one else would. I think Matt left disappointed in me, but I couldn’t worry about that at the time. 

I had much bigger things to worry about: 1) my child who was clearly not functioning in a typical fashion, and 2) my marriage was a complete disaster. 

Like always, I tabled #2. I took Adam back to his original attachment counselor who we loved. She saw him probably 6 times (and I failed to mention that most of his therapy was an hour away. Oh, and John worked out of town and was gone 10-12 hours a day, so I was the one dealing with appointments and such). She declared that the bath incident was a one-off and Adam understood it was wrong. 

Again, no real help and no real answers. And I was more alone than I had ever been.