Heartsick

September isn't over yet but twice I've got a call to come pick up my son from school.  He says he doesn't feel well.  In my heart, I know that it isn't his body but his mind that feels sick.  My heart breaks a little as I drive across town to pick him up.  He isn't coping well with the transition to middle school.

Later, I read an e-mail from his teacher.  He was refusing to do work in class.  He was throwing papers, yelling at his teacher and his helper.  Security escorted him out of the classroom.  Inside my heart breaks again, only sharper and deeper this time.  I try and imagine his future and I start to panic inside.  He copes so poorly with life.  If he knew what awaits would it crush him?  It almost crushes me.


On the drive home, he reads my broken heart and it frightens him.
"I love you, Mom", he says in a feigned weak voice.
"I love you too."
"Are you mad at me?"  He asks.
He is afraid of the answer.
"No, I'm not mad.  I'm really concerned and frustrated.  You've got to make better choices.  I'm not sure how to help you.  You know that thinking yourself sick to get out of something isn't the best way to deal with  a problem."

"I know, Mom", he says sadly.

"I'm really concerned about this problem cooperating.  School is often work and you are expected to rise to the occasion.  Not cooperating  makes your life more difficult than it has to be."

He doesn't know how often I convinced myself I was sick to avoid the exquisite torture that school provided me and later work.  There were consequences.  I don't always cope as well as I should.  I can make my life more difficult than it has to be.

His father and I work out some new "rules" for coming home during the school day.

Vomiting.
Fever.
A medical condition that requires immediate attention.

Those are his get-out-of-school free cards.  Tough love is tough.  My heart breaks a little again but not as sharply and deeply this time.     I know what needs to guide my choices.  I stand on a top of the years, looking down.  I know how important it is for him to learn how to deal with life.  I want to give my energy, my faith, and my hope to his potential to overcome what holds him back inside.

But, there are things I can't control.   This fact feeds a growing mass of worry inside my heart.  My heart breaks again, sharply and deeply.  I look at the pieces of my heart and realize that broken again and again, my heart has become stronger in all the broken places.
I tell myself,  "I can do this.  I can cope and so can he."