I think they look SO much alike. I love HAPPY kids!
Archive for the ‘Bronson’ Category
They grow up too fast.
Bronson is ten in this picture.
Ty is six.
It seems like yesterday,
but it was a lifetime ago…..
11
Feb
Bronson has a JOB!
Can you all believe it? I guess nobody googled his name. Lucky little SHIT!
He leaves the house at six AM and rolls in the door about seven PM.
I sent him a text yesterday telling him how proud I was of him, but confessed how much I missed him. This was his response.
"waaah waah waaah. Get a job. waaah waah waaah I miss you. there's just no pleasing you mom. :p"
Smart Ass!
06
Feb
a new rant
A huge thank you to all of you for answering my questions yesterday. The post served it's purpose and has now been removed from my blog. There is nothing else to say.
Deep cleansing breath-
Moving on!
*****************************************************************************************
Bronson is doing fabulous. He graduated yesterday from his intensive therapy program. That means he is doing well enough for therapy in the private sector. He has an awesome therapist that will see him twice a week for as long as needed. I am so proud of him. He is on the road to finding happiness. Hip Hip Hooray for Bronson!!
Being done with therapy also means I have two less hours in the car. Hip Hip Hooray for the mom!! I have spent the last three weeks living in the car. Being a "stay at home mom" doesn't mean I actually stay at home. For me, I am a "stay in the Armada mom."
On school days, I leave the house in the morning at 6:50 with Hunter and Parker. (Parker comes with me everywhere I go, because he is obsessed with trash trucks. The longer he stays in the car, the more trash trucks he sees.) I return home at 7:45 in time to honk the horn and gather Bronson, Hadley, Jace, Jazzi, and Kate. I drop the little ones off at 7:55. I drop Hadley off at 8:00. I drive Bronson to Laguna Beach and get him there at 8:35. I return home at 9:10. Parker has now seen 27 (cha-cha) trash trucks, 34 (Bah)busses. and 3 (cha cha dir) tractors digging dirt. Parker is HAPPY. I am tired of driving!
I have four hours at home until I have to gather everyone that I JUST BARELY dropped off. Pick up happens the exact same way, Hunter first, then Jace, Jazzi, and Kate. I have a fifteen minute break at home and then it's time for Hadley and Bronson. I get home at 4:00. My swimmers are at the pool thanks to Brandon or Cece. I pick up them up at 5:00 when I drop off the second group of swimmers. My driving day ends at 6:00. Bedtime is at 7:00. That's about the time Brandon asks if I want to go out?
My answer-
HELL NO! I have been out all day!!
Wow, that turned into quite the rant.
Let's just say, that I am VERY happy I get to be home for two extra hours in the day now that Bronson is discharged.
YAY BRONSON!
In the meantime, I am going to spend all weekend sucking up these little people because, before you know it, I will be driving them all over Hell and back!
Happy weekend friends!
Hello everyone. It’s Bronson. I’m guest blogging here today to set the record straight. It seems as though everyone has their own opinions as to how I am doing, what my future holds, whether or not I’m stable, and whether or not my family is doing what’s best for me.
But before I get too far into any of that, I would like to thank everyone who has been supportive of me. My family, my friends, and my girlfriend mean everything to me. They have been loving, kind, caring, and they have ALWAYS been there for me. To all those who love me out there, I’m sorry that I scared the shit out of you a few weeks ago. I love you all and I never meant to traumatize any of you. I wouldn’t trade any of you crazy people for all the riches in the world. You’re the best support group I could ask for. Ever. I love you all.
Now it seems as though many of you people out there in the universe are overly concerned that I am a sad weepy mess, teetering on the verge of another suicide attempt. That’s not true at all. Now I can understand why many of you would believe this. Suicide and sadness usually go hand-in-hand. And yes, it’s true that I struggle with depression, but nothing that any of you commenters say, nor anything that my mother types about me on her blog is going to send me over the edge into another suicidal frenzy. Not now. Not twenty years from now. Not ever. Seriously. All you worriers need to take a chill pill and get off my mother’s back and mine. Thanks.
“But, Bronson,” I’m sure many of you are asking, “Why did you try to commit suicide if you’re not a sad and weepy mess?” Well, dearest readers, I tried to kill myself because I’m a selfish asshole who found life too hard, too repetitive, too predictable, and too stupid to go on. To me, life is like the board game Monopoly. It takes too long, it’s never fair, you go in mindless circles, and you scramble over paper money that only has value because you believe it does.
Imagine me, sitting there, playing this Monopoly game of life. I’m getting a bunch of shitty rolls, I can’t buy anything I want because I’m low on fake money, everything is unfair, and I’ve spent eighteen years playing this stupid game. I try looking for meaning in this board game, but I’ve come to recognize that it’s nothing more than a big shitty circle in which all the players fight over shit that doesn’t matter.
Talk about lame!
My suicide attempt was that board game equivalent of throwing my money down, shouting “Fuck this game,” and making a big scene about quitting to let everyone know how pissed I was. Unfortunately, in this world, when you threaten to stop playing Monopoly, you get locked in the psych ward for a few days.
I didn’t try to end my life because I was miserable. I tried to end my life because I was pissed and impulsive. Maybe, on some subconscious level, my suicide attempt was nothing more than a cry for help. But regardless of whether or not I was trying to get help, I got it. After attempting suicide, I got new meds, a therapist, a few days in the psych ward, a few weeks of outpatient programs, and lots of support from my family and friends across the globe.
Over the past few weeks, I’ve looked back at my Monopoly board of life. The game is still stupid and unfair, long and repetitive, predictable and obnoxious, but I’ve realized that my Monopoly metaphor doesn’t work as well as I’d like. If you quit a board game, you have an opportunity to read a book, or watch TV, or build a skyscraper for all I care. But if you quit on life, you lose all those opportunities. No more good times, no more fun, no more happiness, no more life, no more nothing.
I still think life sucks, but NOT living sucks even more. If I throw a bitch-fit and give up on life, I’m going to hurt everyone I’ve ever cared about and leave them behind in this shitty Monopoly world. That’s some selfish bullshit!
I’m going to keep living this game of life, thankfully playing with everyone I love. I’ll always have my family and friends by my side to help me along. And I am SO SO SO thankful for that. I love these people, and I’m not going to ruin their lives by being a selfish dick. I plan on staying in this world. Besides, Monopoly isn’t that bad when you’re playing with people you love.
Sidenote: Whoever suggested “Darkness Visible” to my mother has my ultimate respect. Best book about depression ever. If anyone wants any other good reads, check out “The Stranger” or “The Myth of Sisyphus” by Albert Camus.
I’m sorry that I put you all through that obnoxious Monopoly analogy. Thank you all for your support and constructive criticism. I love you all. Except for the haters. They can go fuck themselves.
I’m too lazy to go back and edit this. Deal with it. <3
19
Jan
feelings
I was in ninth grade when I had had enough of this life. It was about a boy, and I thought, I was in love with him…. He had told me he just wanted to be friends. That was after I had given him my virginity. He told me I was too tall, too skinny, and had too many zits. There wasn't enough benzoyl peroxide on the planet to make me what he was looking for. Tall, skinny, and without a clear complexion, I felt I had nothing and would never be valuable enough to be loved by anyone else. All I ever wanted was to get married and have babies. If the first boy I had ever been with felt that way about me, surely all boys would. My dreams went up in smoke that day.
I took handfuls of dramamine, iron tablets, tylenol, and anything else that was floating around in my parents medicine cupboard. Was it a means for attention? At the time, I sure didn't think so. At that moment, with tears streaming down my face, and my Maverick mug full of water, I started swallowing pill after pill. When I had emptied the bottles, I laid down on my bed with my stuffed animal in my arms and hoped to just fall asleep. As soon as I felt the world begin to spin, I started to panic. I ran down the hall and told my brother what I had done and he woke up my mom. The rest is a blur. I honestly don't remember much, other than vomiting for what felt like days. I know I was in the hospital, and I know that is what began years and years of therapy and counseling.
I recovered. I will always have the "clinical depression" status. I have never attempted or contemplated suicide since that night twenty four years ago. BUT I have dealt with depression. The darkest years of my life were from age 17-26. I was on Prozac for most of those years, stopping only to get through pregnancies. But with Hadley, the doctors and I both felt that Prozac throughout her pregnancy was one of those "the benefits outweigh the risks" type of things, so I carried Hadley with Prozac coursing through my veins. I nursed her for 12 months with Prozac laced milk. (surprisingly enough she is the most mentally stable of all) and after her first birthday, weeks before Jayden joined our family, I stopped taking my meds. I have been med free ever since…. well, almost ever since. I had a 45 day run on Celexa after my brother-in-law committed suicide. But that was short lived and more for anxiety.
All of that is being said because……
None of that qualifies me to "know" how Bronson feels. Nor does it qualify anyone else. I can be sympathetic. I can even be empathetic, but that doesn't mean I know exactly how he is feeling or why he is feeling that way. So many of you shared your concerns about what a fragile place he was in, and what an 'unstable, unable to make rational decisions' place he was in. While I appreciate how many friends, supporters and nay-sayers, left comments and shared stories, none of you "know" how Bronson is feeling. Since the child is my son and he lives with me, in my home, 24/7, I would guess that I have a better handle on him than most of you.
What offended some of you in the post of suicide was that I was writing about me, not him. Since I only know how I feel, I think that is a good place to start.
Bronson called home yesterday and wanted to know if I had blogged yet. I told him that I had and that there were 77 comments left wishing him well. He asked if I would read the post to him because he didn't want to wait to read it himself. So I did. I read him every word and cried of course. He stood in the hallway of the psyche ward with his head against the wall and listened and when I choked through every word he said, "awww, thanks mommy."
I told him there were plenty of people that thought I had done the wrong thing by blogging about such a personal thing and putting it out there for the world to see.
And he said, "Fuck 'em. I told you to write it and I am glad you did. You love to write and I love to read what you write and nobody else matters."
Bronson was discharged shortly after that phone call. He is doing well. He is in an outpatient program where he goes for seven hours a day. He is on a new med and his attitude is so much better than it was on Saturday. He has found a new love, and that is for wounded spirits. He has fallen in love with the people in the unit. I am just happy to see him have a reason to wake up in the morning.
We were at Borders last night when I got another comment on the blog telling me what a sick person I was to share my child's issues with the world and Bronson got pissed. He said, "I am going home and guest blogging."
I said, "I think that's a great idea. Writing is theraputic. I am so excited!! I have been asking you for years to do a post for me."
Bronson said, "All I am going to write is FUCK OFF!"
"Okay baby, I don't think so. All my readers will say, 'see that child is still so unstable.' maybe another time when you have something eloquent and articulate to say."
…and that's where we are right now. I am mothering away. I am blogging away. It's just another day in the life. But things seem a little brighter and stuff that I thought was important last week just doesn't feel as important today. I am hugging all my babies a little tighter and holding them a little longer.
Thanks for letting me get that off my chest.
Sitting in the emergency room on Saturday night, watching my oldest baby be poked, prodded, questioned, and watched, he says to me,
"Life is like a movie. You are born into the theater and expected to stay there your whole life. The movie is "The Love Guru." Some people find it greatly entertaining and even hysterical and others find it stupid, pointless and a waste of time. I tried walking out of the theater because I am in the latter group. LIFE IS POINTLESS."
Bronson took 2,000 mg of Zoloft on Saturday afternoon in an attempt to get out if his pointless life. An outsider may think that this kid has it all. A family who loves and adores him, an upper middle class life, a paid for college education, the world at his feet. But in fact, he is a broken one. Clinical depression doesn't care if he has everything or nothing. It can and does affect everyone. Even if you are not the one with the diagnosis, I would bet that you have been affected by someone that does.
I have never felt more helpless than I did sitting in the ER. There is nothing I can do to fix him. There is nothing I can do to make him happy. Nothing I can do to make him want to live another day. He is selfish and stubborn and done with life. All I feel is guilt for bringing him into this world. Sick to my stomach guilt. He didn't ask to be born. He didn't ask to live this life.
*sigh*
When I adopted all these kids with special needs, I spent a lot of time coming to terms with life, death, and the fairness of it all. With so many of these babies, who were so medically fragile as infants, I thought many times that death may be the easier way for them. Surgery after surgery, fighting for life with every breath… It was painful to watch. It was horrible to go through. But each and every one pulled through. Whether it was life threatening RSV, or congenital heart failure, or an allergic reaction to anesthesia I have taken each and every child home with me from that hospital alive and happy. It's the happy part that I keep thinking about. Ty, Coco, Dalin and Pickle are the happiest people in this household.
ignorance is bliss.
I will take a medically fragile, fighting for life, happy child over a sad, depressed, can't live in this world one more minute child any day of the week.
From a parenting stand point,
Dealing with suicidal children SUCKS!
I have joined Bronson on his emotional roller coaster. NOT BY CHOICE. But because of his actions. I go back and forth between, "Thank God you are okay." to "If you want to die just tell me and I will happily kill you." I am hurt and angry about his stupidity. I am frustrated by his lack of judgement. I am pissed off at his poor choices. I love him more than anything. I want nothing but the best for him. But more than anything, I want him to be happy. That is all I have ever wanted for my children, just their happiness. But it's been brought to my attention that I want them to be happy as long as they live up to societies standards. If living in a tent, smoking weed and living off the land brings Bronson happiness, why won't I let him do it? I am not stopping him from doing it, but I am not going to finance his habit, purchase his tent or drive him to the wilderness. Does that mean I truly don't want his happiness? According to him it does.
Sometimes life is HARD!
Bronson is in a fantastic facility here in Orange County. He isn't happy about it. He wants out. But moments after uttering those words, he says he wants to stay. Because at least in there he doesn't have to make any decisions about life or get a job. He isn't the most stable person on the planet, and for my sake and the sake of the rest of the family, I hope they keep him for awhile.
He spent seven hours at our ER. Once he was medically stable, they hauled him away to another facility. I couldn't go with him. He is an adult. He calls the shots. He signs the papers. Legally he does NOT need his mother. I like to think that emotionally he still does. Most of what I hear coming from him doesn't paint that picture. I am just a deterrent to his happily ever after. It will be me that will be pained to play the tough love card and watch him flounder. Coddling him didn't work. Tough love is the only other choice on the menu. It's terrifying to be the bad cop now that I know how fragile he is. If he hates life now, I don't know why he'll like it when I take away his phone and computer. Why will life be worth living if he is given an ultimatum? I am scared to death to push him, but I feel like I have no choice.
I find myself questioning everything. I want to right the wrongs and fix the issues that have played a part in his emotional breakdown. I want to fix him. I want to make him happy. I want him to find his inner peace. I want to fast forward time, and know that he is still here, and happy, twenty years from now. I want my baby back. My happy baby.
For all of you that are concerned that I am writing about my adult child…. He told me today to write whatever I wanted to about this and said, "I don't want you to think you have to ask my permission, so I am just telling you right now to blog whatever you need to."
03
Dec
A little love for Bronson
He has one more week of school.
He has the pressure of life weighing heavy on his brain!
If you know Bronson in real life, please RALLY around him.
He is in a deep dark hole that only medication and a little sunshine can fix.
His "meh" attitude is more chemical than I realized.
Brandon and I spent the entire day talking him off the cliff.
I hope he returns to Tulane after winter break, but if he doesn’t…….
…that is his choice.
He is an adult and has our support regardless.
***********************
Bronson-
Things are going to get better.
The world is yours to figure out.
There are hundreds of people out there that want you to be happy.
You are not alone in this ugly battle.
Take a deep breath and take this last week moment by moment.
Everyday that goes by, you are that much closer to being home.
I love you Bronson baby.
XOXO
02
Dec
FAILURE to Launch
Since I put Bronson back on the plane, he has been front and center in my brain and I am filled with so many thoughts and concerns with him and about his future that I am unable to process anything else but BRONSON right now.
I need some help or advice on parenting adult children.
This is a situation like, "You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make him drink." This is currently my worst nightmare and I don’t have a clue what, if anything, I should be doing.
Bronson is one that will blow through life without any control of his future at all. Wherever he ends up, will be where he ends up. In some areas this is a blessing. He is a go with the flow kind of kid, adjusts to change, doesn’t let much upset him. But in the goal setting, ambition, and motivation department, this is an effing nightmare. Brandon sums him up like this. Bronson is like a space shuttle without rocket boosters. Trying to launch him, is about as difficult as throwing the space shuttle into space. -sigh-
Bronson has been given an amazing education. He has been at one of the ‘best of the best’ high schools for the past four years, was accepted at Tulane, a fantastic university and a costly one at that….. AND….. he wants to live in the sticks with no job. And I am not talking about right now, I am talking about when he grows up. He gets stellar grades, he is brilliant when it comes to book smarts, but he doesn’t appreciate his ability or the education and what it can do for him in life. He just wants to coast. He wants to live off my money for the rest of forever. But it’s not like he wants a lot of it, he just wants a couple hundred a month to buy his quiznos and his sprite.
Remember when I talked about my battle with Brandon over boarding school VS public school? Bronson is single handedly ruining all of his siblings chances at an amazing education, because Brandon’s argument has been proven with Bronson. He received a $120 thousand dollar high school education. My argument was, it will allow him a jump start in college and guarantee him an acceptance into a fabulous one. Brandon said, just because he goes to a good college doesn’t guarantee success…………..
SHIT. I guess we can say, he was successful in class, just not in life……
We gave him a car for graduation. He doesn’t want it. He doesn’t have a drivers license and STILL has ZERO desire to get one. He says, "Why be a driver when you can be a passenger?" ARRRRRRRRR! (That’s me screaming and pulling my hair out.) That pretty much sums up him and his attitude about life right there.
I feel like Brandon and I (and Bronson) are at a crossroads here and this is where I am at a loss for what the right thing to do is.
Do I let him stay in Tulane? Do I let him coast through four years on my dime at an unbelievable school and do nothing with that education? Do we pull him out and let him attend Saddleback college right here and save ourselves $50 grand a year? If he truly isn’t going to do anything with this college education, WHY IN GODS NAME is he at TULANE?
OR, is this normal Freshman behavior to not have a desire in hell to work and move forward in life and in the real world? I honestly have no clue. I am going to be pissed if we pay for this education only to have him work at juice-it-up and live in someone’s basement for the rest of his life. But, I will also be very upset if I pull him out, and let him fall on his face, and have him go to work as a plumber for his dad.
His dad is a lot like Bronson in this area. When I met him, he wanted to be an architect. However, when I met him at twenty,he wasn’t even in college, instead he was working for his dad as a plumber because it was the easy thing to do. He didn’t want to be a plumber, he didn’t want to do the family business, he despised his older brother and for fifteen years I listened to him complain everyday about going to work. If he had gone to college and followed his heart he would have had a very different life.
Back to Bronson. When he was home this past week, we talked about what he wanted to do in life. I got answers like,
As little as possible.
Nothing.
Live in the sticks.
Live with you and Brandon forever.
Go back to Asheville.
When he said he wanted to go back to Asheville I suggested he do just that, "Go back and teach. You can live in the sticks in Asheville and teach the kids at the school."
"meh"
I should have named Bronson "meh," no other word on earth describes him better.
Later I walked in on him telling Hunter about his oceanography class.
"It’s like my crack cocaine. I love it."
When he started telling me about the amazing ocean I lived so near and knew so little about, he lit up like a damn Christmas tree. He was telling me stuff I can’t even compute, let alone repeat. it was like a foreign language in Science. HE LOVES IT! All of his life he talked about being a marine biologist. I reminded him of that and suggested he go after something in the science field. "Do what you love, if you don’t want to teach, be an oceanographer, or a marine biologist, or geologist…. ANYTHING!!!! Just set a damn goal and go after it."
"meh"
Is it always this frustrating parenting older kids? If so, I have fourteen others that I am going to place for adoption at seventeen.
I want Bronson to be happy. I realize that at this point in his life doing nothing makes him happy, but life isn’t always going to be such a cake walk. Am I enabling him to be a slacker or is it innate? WHAT DO I DO? Please give me some words of wisdom. I am about to make a very large tuition payment and I feel totally fine about it when I think I am investing in my child’s future. BUT it isn’t feeling like that at all at this point.
HELP!!!
PS- I have Bronson’s blessing and permission to post this.
29
Nov
stellar day *UPDATED*
Two kids peed their pants,
one kid broke his arm,
two kids got into a knock down drag out fight in my front room,
and none of these were related. Just the children… The children are related.
More details later. Now, I have to take Bronson to the airport. He is going back to school and he isn’t very happy about it. He has been sicker than a dog all week. It used to be easy to return him, because he loved Asheville so much. Today, he is dragging his feet and making me feel like telling him to just stay home for a few more days. Being a mother to adult children SUCKS! I just want to make it all better and tuck him back in bed, but it doesn’t seem to be an option. I have to let him go and do the right thing and I hate it. Give me five two-year-olds any day of the week. But one 18-year-old is kicking my ass!
UPDATED- Bronson is still home. Thanks to Continental who had a broken plane. Brons will fly out tomorrow.