Words Spoken in Anger

For over four years now I have tried to carve a family out of our little band of misfits. For the little ones, it has been relatively easy and they have accepted our family as it is; miss-matched and crazy but sewn together with love. Primero has been another story entirely. He has resisted most, if not all, of my attempts to envelope him into the fold. Now, when I talk about creating our family, I see it as in addition to, not seclusion from, their original families. I am not trying to replace, remove, or eliminate their biological families, I am trying to bring the four of us together as an immediate family with all of their family members as well. It’s about addition, not subtraction. Still, Primero resists. He is willing to consider the estranged niece of his oldest brother’s girlfriend family, but won’t call Chica Marie his sister or Love Bug his brother. In the past I used to force or cajole, sometimes even straight-up bribe Primero to participate in family outings. More often than not it ended in me getting frustrated with his dour mood and shitty attitude. I think it’s been well over a year since I’ve even asked him along with us. I do understand he is at an age where it isn’t common to do things with the family, I just wanted to try to soak up as much family time with him as I could before he leaps from the nest. It feels all for naught these days.

 

Primero and I had a not-so-great weekend. We had two minor skirmishes and one very large fight. During our blow-out fight Sunday evening, I felt something inside me break and let go. It was the hope that Primero would accept our family as his family, that he would embrace us all and not feel like having an adoptive family and a biological family are diametrically opposite things; an “us” and “them” kind of situation. He is stuck with us, but wants to be with them. And, while I can understand that and I recognize it is hard, I just thought at some point in time he would come to accept things as they are. He has, and always has had, the opportunity to be in touch and spend time with his biological family. I have never stood in his way or made him feel like he needed to choose (except when he literally does, like where to have Thanksgiving dinner or something like that). On some level, I know he appreciates the stability of our family. We haven’t moved since he moved in. We haven’t experienced any of the calamities he lived through as a child, with domestic violence and whatnot. Still, he resists embracing our family as his. I have (mostly) come to terms with him never calling me “mom” or even really seeing me as one. But, it really hurts to see him reject the little ones in the same way. He often times still refers to them as his “foster siblings” and when counting his brothers and sisters, he does not include them. I’m sure, if my parents had adopted little kids when I was a teenager I would have felt like they were interlopers, but at some point I think I’d move past it. I thought maybe finalization would make that happen, but thus far that doesn’t seem to be the case.

 

Primero and I finally talked Wednesday night and he mentioned wondering what things would be like if he had chosen Permanent Legal Custody instead of adoption. I don’t really know what difference he thinks there would be, because he planned on staying with me. Maybe he thinks it would make it easier to walk away? It would give a looser connection? I told him I think it would have made me less tolerant of his recent behaviors. Plus, all legal obligation would have ended when he turned 18, so maybe he would have felt like he had more freedom at that point in time. I don’t know. We really didn’t get to discuss what difference he thinks it would have made. I think Primero regrets being adopted, I think he still wishes his biological family had kept him.

 

The reason this all came up was because when we were fighting Primero like to find the most painful, caustic thing he can say and hurl it at me. He has been doing this for quite some time now and the small cuts and bruises have grown into gaping wounds. His words, spoken in anger, have wormed their way into my brain and so now I tell them to myself – he wants to absolve the adoption, he thinks I’m a terrible mother, he thinks I adopted them for the money, he thinks he would be better off without me. For a while I could hold them back, but now I cannot. Before when I brought this up to him, he told me, “Well, families fight.” Yes, families do fight but they don’t find the most terrible thing they know you think about yourself and fling it at you with such vitriol. I said I have been very angry at him but never have I said, “I wish I hadn’t adopted you.” Never did I make fun of his sexuality or his weight, both sensitive subjects to him. Because even when I am boiling angry, I don’t want to hurt him like that. I don’t want to be cruel. I’m not sure if I got through to him, but I hope I did. It is a lesson he needs to learn now, not later. The things he says, even in anger, can cause lasting damage. I hope he keeps that in mind.