“You haven’t amounted to anything.”
“You haven’t amounted to anything” was said on the phone to my son by his dad on Valentine’s Day. My son has a mental illness. This coming from his dad who is not currently working, hasn’t worked much since 1995, and truly “hasn’t amounted to anything for realz.
No one should say this to their healthy offspring, let alone those with a mental illness or special needs.
I can say this because I HAVE amounted to something.
• I raised 2 great kids with serious mental illnesses, as a single Mom who only got bs and excuses from their dad.
• I raised 2 great kids with serious illnesses who are well mannered and polite.
• I raised 2 great kids with serious mental illnesses who are loving and kind adults.
• I kept jobs for years where I was treated horribly, where I was taken advantage of in terms of salary, where I should have left for a lot of reasons. I toughed it out and continued to work at these places because I was the sole provider for my children. I had to make sure I provided for ALL my children’s needs.
• I own a home in a community that was #2 in the state when my children were attending middle and high school.
• I own 2 vehicles I use to take my children where they need to go.
• I have insured that my children always got the proper medical care and medications and that they take their medications as prescribed.
• I have advocated for my children and fought to get them hospitalized when they needed it and advocated and fought so that they received the appropriate care and proper medications to treat their illnesses.
I could go on, and on. You get my point. I raised my kids to be great adults despite interference and lack of support, both financial, and in the way that he treated them throughout their lives. The manipulation, lack of contact, inappropriate contact (verbal and written, which I have proof of by way of multiple Orders Of Protection).
I was driving when my son told me this. I wanted to burst into tears because of what an awful thing his dad said to his own child. I was so angry. I didn’t burst into tears because I didn’t want my son to see me do it. I was wearing sunglasses and kept wiping the tears that streamed down my face, trying to keep my son from seeing them. My voice cracked when I spoke. He knew I was upset. He didn’t need to know how upset.
I had to remind my son the place his dad comes from. His dad’s past history, the facts that his dad refuses to acknowledge.
How would his dad even know what it means to be a person who amounts to something?
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