We’ve been having a rough time lately. I don’t know why. I never really know why. I lost my temper with a friend the other day while Kevin was tantruming. She asked, “Why do you think he’s behaving this way?” and I responded, “I don’t know Gail why don’t you ask him and see how far YOU get.” It was unfair. She was only trying to be helpful, but that question is like lemon juice in a paper cut for us club members.
“Why do you think he’s behaving this way?”
“I don’t know. If I did, I’d be able to make him stop now wouldn’t I.”
One morning last week was really bad. I can’t remember what set him off but he came at me like a battering ram kicking and punching and I lost it. I lost my temper and made the worst possible choice: I hit him back. Now I know a great many of you are thinking, “Good! Now maybe he’ll stop hurting you.” But that’s not how it works here. When Kevin hits you and you hit him back he flies into an uncontrollable, violent rage. If he can’t attack YOU he’ll attack his sisters, and if he can’t attack them he’ll break whatever he can find, and if there’s nothing to break he’ll pee himself, or do whatever he can think of to make you pay. On this particular occasion, after I hit him back, Kevin got me in a headlock and as I pried his hands off of my head he scratched me along the side of my face. Dana helped me secure him in a restraining hold and when he finally calmed down we apologized to each other as we always do. Then Dana said, “Mom you better go check yourself out in the mirror. That scratch, it’s pretty bad.”
So I went to the bathroom to survey the damage, pretty nasty, and did what I’ve been doing for the better part of five years: decided what lie I would tell when someone asked me about it. When I’m deciding on a lie I usually talk myself through it.
Me: You could say it was a curling iron?
Me #2: It’s obviously a scratch Rachel.
Me: So what do I do, I have to be at work in 20 minutes?!
Me #2: Wear your hair down that will cover the whole thing.
Me: It’s 105 degrees out there I can’t wear my hair down.
Me #2: Concealer?
Me: Ok, but, again, it’s 105 degrees out there it’s going to melt off.
Me# 2: Bring it with you, stop at every bathroom along the camp route and re-apply. Oh and don’t go swimming today, just lie and say you have your period.
Me: OK. Ok. Yeah that works. I can do that. Perfect.
And then, as I reached for the concealer, a third voice, one I’d never heard before, suddenly chimed in.
Me #3: Rachel, why don’t you just tell the truth?
Me: I can’t do that.
Me #3: Why?
Me: It will make people feel uncomfortable.
Me #3: It will make THEM feel uncomfortable or YOU uncomfortable.
Me: Both
Me #3: So you’d rather lie?
Me: No, but it’s, it’s ………..
Me #3: Easier?
Me: OK fine yes it IS easier. You think I want to be pitied? You think I want those awkward glances? You think having a child who hits you isn’t hard enough?!
Me #3: Are you ashamed?
Me: No!
Me #3: Then don’t lie.
Me: But… what will people think?!
Me #3: They will think you have a son who hits you sometimes. They already know it. You write about it all the time. Now they’re going to see it, and if it makes them uncomfortable that’s not your concern.
Me: But…….
Me #3: Rachel, I know it’s been a rough morning. Fuck, it’s been a rough month, but didn’t you finish an entry last week telling a mom just like yourself that it doesn’t matter what other people think?
Me: Yes.
Me #3: You said she didn’t have to lie?
Me: Yes.
Me #3: And you told her she didn’t have to hide anymore, didn’t you.
Me: I did.
Me #3: Did you mean it?
Me: Yes.
Me #3: Well I’m sorry sweetheart but if you can’t walk out of this house with that scratch on your face then I don’t believe you, and you can’t expect anyone else to believe you either.
Me: That’s harsh.
Me #3: No it’s true. You just had a conversation with Matt yesterday about how brave everyone is behind their computer screen, but when it comes to real life confrontation they’re all a bunch of pansy asses. You’ve spent the better part of two years WRITING honestly I think it’s about time you started LIVING honestly.
Silence
Me #3: Put the concealer down. Put your hair up in a ponytail it’s 105 degrees out there. Go to camp. When you get there people will ask you about the scratch on your face. Tell the truth. Say, “Kevin scratched me.” You don’t have to go into detail.
Me: Just like that?
Me #3: Just like that. Now get to work you’re going to be late.
And I did. I went to work with a visible scratch along the side of my face and it wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought. When I got there a co-worker asked me what happened to my face. I replied, “Kevin scratched me,” and he gave me a kind smile with an encouraging hug. It felt reassuring. The next person to ask was one of my campers. When I told her what happened she became embarrassed and walked away but I was OK with that. Next to ask was a close friend and one of Kevin’s biggest fans. She saw me and asked,
“What happened to your face and please don’t tell me it was Kevin?”
“I’m sorry sweetheart,” I replied, “but it was.”
Her eyes got a little wet then and she too changed the subject. I thought this would upset me but it didn’t. She was obviously hurting for me and Kevin, not pitying us. And she didn’t change the subject because she was embarrassed, she did it to be kind.
Last but not least, one of Dana’s friends whom I’ll call Yeshara (because it means blunt) walked right up to me, pointed to my face and asked,
“Did Kevin do that?”
“Yes he did.”
“Yeah Dana says he can be a real turd sometimes.”
“Well she speaks the truth, Kevin CAN be a real turd sometimes.”
“Does it hurt?’
“No not really.”
“That’s good. I’m sorry he scratched you.”
“It’s OK Yeshara it’s just something we have to deal with sometimes.”
“Yeah, well, good news is it’s not deep I bet it will heal in no time and you won’t get a scar.”
“I bet you’re right!”
And she was right. It’s been four days, the scratch is gone, and I don’t have a scar.
Dear Everybody Who see me on a regular basis,
Remember that time I had a big bruise on my thigh and you asked me about it and I said I fell? That was a lie. I didn’t fall, Kevin kicked me. Do you remember last summer you saw me with long sleeves when it was 110 degrees out and you asked what I was doing wearing long sleeves and I said, “Laundry day!” That was a lie. I had a bite mark on my arm I was trying to hide. Or how about the bump on my head this past Christmas. I think I said I’d had a little too much to drink at a Christmas party? Another lie. I was driving along route 70 when Kevin announced he wanted a slurpee and when I said no he kicked the back of my chair so hard I swerved, slammed on the brakes, and hit my head on the steering wheel. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be dishonest, I just thought it would be easier for all of us if I didn’t tell the truth. I was wrong.
So I want you guys to know the next time you see me I might have a bruise on my leg, or a bite mark on my arm, or a scratch along the side of my face. Before you ask me about it, please make sure you’re OK with hearing the truth, because I’ve decided I’m not going to lie anymore.
You can always call me..when ever . You know I will drop what I am doing and march over thru one of the many paths that are part of what connects us !