Home » A Wasted Life » My Little Boy – Continued – Part Three

My Little Boy – Continued – Part Three

After I sold the house in A******** and moved to F******, J***** disappeared.  We had heard that he was in T****.  Then he was in M**** and later K** W***.  He didn’t have a car so I guess he had “thumbed” his way there.  He had sold his car for money or booze or drugs, I guess.
I had gotten settled into my house in F******.  Loser had come down for a visit and we were at K**** and E*s’ house.  While we were there, I got a call from J*****.  He was in the hospital.
K**** and I hopped in my car and headed there.  I don’t know why Loser didn’t come with us.  Maybe because he was too busy drinking beer with E*.
K**** and I walked in and it was like a scene from one of those horrible concentration camps.  J***** was completely emaciated and looked like he was at deaths’ door.  He was glad to see us, though.  He had been there for quite a while and one of the nurses finally convinced him to call me.
He was seriously ill.  He had been diagnosed with pancreatitis and had several “pseudo cysts.”
When he got better, he was sent to an aftercare facility.  I went to visit him every day.  I talked to the nurse about how serious his condition was and we agreed to tell J***** that if he drank again, he would die.
J***** came in, we gave our spiel and had him convinced.  A few days later, J***** told me that he asked the doctor if he drank again, if he would die…and the doctor said NO.  So much for our efforts.
When he got better, K**** let him live in the house she bought before she got married.  J***** did the yard work and kept it up for her but he continued to drink.
I don’t know how many more times he got arrested for the same thing….public drunkenness.  I don’t know how many more times I bailed him out.  K**** and I both said “if he’s going to drink, which he obviously is….why doesn’t he do it in the house?  Why does he have to do it out on the street?”
After several more jobs, several more sponsors and several more stays with me, we (K**** and I) decided…no more.  B***** had stopped having anything to do with him long ago.  That was one of the reasons she stopped speaking to me…..I mentioned his name after she had set her boundaries.
J***** got into yet another rehab center.  Even though I had decided that I could not enable him anymore, I continued to visit him.  I had long chats with his counselor.  I was worried that my visitation was a form of enabling but the counselor said it wasn’t.  J***** quickly rose up the ranks….like he always did.  He was a born leader when he was sober.  It wasn’t going to be long before he “graduated” and I was hoping…on his way to a fresh start.
Just a few days before graduation, he went off the grounds and was apparently trying to make a drug deal with a few other residents.
They were using a stolen debit card that had no money on it so the drug dealer took his revenge.  J***** was already drunk, so he didn’t feel much when the dealer literally filleted him.
One of K****s’ bridesmaids (who is a firefighter/medic) was the one who picked him up.  She and her partner told K**** and E* that J*****s’ wound was one of the worst they had ever seen.  His nose was broken and bleeding.  He was cut from mid-sternum to the top of his left shoulder and it was three inches deep.
I went to see him in the hospital and I literally gasped when I walked in.  I was looking at his face.  I hadn’t even seen the cut.
I tried to get him back into the rehab center but they wouldn’t take him.  I was trying to get him into another one and I stopped to go in and talk to them.  J***** asked me if I wanted some juice or something.  I asked, bewildered, “do they have juice here?”  He said they did.  I waited and he didn’t come back so I went looking for him.  I caught him coming out of an ABC store.  He said they sold juice there and I said they didn’t.  I understand now, that they do but it wasn’t juice he was after.
He was still in the hospital scrubs they had given him and I could see the bottle of liquor stuffed in his pants.  I could not believe it.  I drove off and left him.  I have hated myself every single day since.  He ended up on the street.
I got N**** to call him after a few weeks and ask him to meet her, with the promise that they would “have a drink together.”  He showed up and instead of drinking, I dressed his wound.  It looked infected so I put some Bacitracin on it.  The stitches needed to be removed because they were starting to grow into his skin.
I met him later and removed the stitches.  It was a horrible wound but J***** seemed to wear it like a badge of honor.  He always had his shirt off.  Maybe that’s how he got money.  Maybe people felt sorry for this skinny, scarred, sad-looking soul.
He found more sponsors, more jobs and more places to stay but they never lasted very long.
One day Loser texted me and asked if I could house J***** for a few days until he got into a rehab place up there.  J***** told Loser that he already had the rehab entrance lined up.  Loser said he sounded sober, but desperate.
I went to get J***** and he was as drunk as a skunk.  I brought him home with me anyway.  I asked Loser if he would split the cost of the bus ticket up there and he said he would.  I never got the check.
It turns out that J***** hadn’t done anything about rehab.  I made him get on the phone and figure something out.  I made him call Loser and tell him that he had lied about the rehab.  He managed to get into a place he had been in before.  I bought the ticket.  The bus was supposed to leave early the next morning and somehow, J***** managed to make it up the street and beg enough money to buy some booze.  He also went to my neighbors’ house and begged a bottle of gin.
J***** then lit into me like a replica of Loser when he was lighting into J*****.  He blamed me for everything….the destruction of our marriage…..his alcoholism…..Loser finding his attachment….you name it.  He said some of the most horrible things to me that I had ever heard.
I told him to get his things together.  I was going to take him to the bus station and he could stay there all night, waiting.  J***** asked me for money.  I told him I wasn’t going to give him any money and he went into another tirade.  He punished me for it.  The next day, I realized that along with some last pieces of jewelry, he had taken the “guilt” necklace that Loser had given me for Christmas.  It was the last thing Loser gave me….and now it was gone.
Loser was going to pick J***** up at the bus station the next afternoon but J***** wasn’t on the bus.
I could go on but it would be playing the same song over and over and over.
My little boy is in jail.  I am struggling with once again, bailing him out.  He will be spending Thanksgiving there.  He spent last Thanksgiving in jail and so did I.  I went to see him and was allowed to talk to him via video for an hour.  I might not have been locked up but I felt like I was in jail just the same.
I used to joke with J*****…about everybody else having dinner with their families and we were those “forgotten ones” in jail.
How do I reconcile this?  How do I wrap my head around this?  How can it literally eviscerate me, yet have no impact whatsoever on Loser?  How can he say “that’s it.  We’re through with him?”  How can Loser call him a “worthless piece of shit” and act like he no longer exists?  How can he be so involved with that attachment and have absolutely no concern of any kind when it comes to his only son…..his namesake?  Why should I be the only one who thinks about what can be done?  Why am I the only one who worries about him?  Why is Loser too busy concentrating on a bar-hopping attachment to even ask how his son is doing?  I don’t think Loser even knows and and if he did, he wouldn’t care.
WHERE IS JUSTICE for my little boy who inherited that horrible tendency and has never felt anything but the failure to live up to that despicable, Goddamn name?  Where is retribution for the REAL PIECE OF SHIT who is suddenly masquerading around as a good father to impress that immoral pool hall attachment, who had already warned Loser that he was never to choose his children over her again?
Hell beckons, I afraid….not for Loser but for me, for HATING that worthless piece of shit excuse for a father.
I want retribution to be my new art….and I want to paint my masterpiece.

23 thoughts on “My Little Boy – Continued – Part Three

  1. The matter of money seems to be important for the narcissists, or at least it was for mine, he would always take an extra shift even at Christmas /New Year’s if he could, (extra cash then). I think it was only that the money helped him keeping up a successful façades (which would in itself give him a lot of attention). No it is like you said, they do not care about the grief of other people. That was one of the warning signs for me, quite a late one though, since we had been together a couple years, but I thought it extremely strange that he did not care about a death that impacted me so severely… well, we have one thing to be thankful for; that we are out. If you find the time, maybe you want to listen to a song from my culture, this Christmas. I just posten it as a comfort to all people in loneliness. Hugs.💜🎄🎁

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  2. Wow. Now I’ve read these several parts of the story about your son. It is absolutely heartbreaking! He must have so much pain inside him, as you so intuitively guessed, surely from childhood, not getting love from his father.. and the strong genes for alkoholism aswell. Your poor boy never stood a chance I believe.. but of course, I hope he finds strength to get out of it and get healthier.

    Your question about how could Loser not care about his son, and call him worthless etc.. One answer: narcissists can NOT handle other people’s problems and need for support. They just can’t. Cause then it is no longer about them, and it disrupts their everyday life. And the reason Loser could still care about the “attachment”, of course, she gave him some sort of attention and adoration, whereas your son needed attention and love from the father, (which he could not give). Example: When my best friend died, and I was hurting, my narc went on a party trip instead! (Wrote about it in a blog post). My heart goes out to you! 💜

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    • I have learned so much about narcissists recently. EVERYTHING that describes a narcissist describes Loser perfectly. Maybe that’s why every time I got sick or hurt, Loser got MAD at me. It all makes sense now. His only concern was that HE actually might have to deal with a daily chore…or even worse…the children. My son needed him more than any of the girls ever did and he was so severely short-changed. And, you’re right. The attachment pumps up his ego like he needs. I guess needing money is an ego-boost as well? Makes HIM look important?
      I’m so sorry about your best friend…and yep. I’m not surprised your narc didn’t care about her…or you. It’s such a shame that we have had to be subjected to men like them.

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  3. How can loser wipe his life clean of his son you ask (rhetorical answer I hope.. Because you know the answer…) He’s a selfish fucking cheating lying asshole. he’s a fucking Narcassist, pure and simple. Probably a psychopath too!

    I am so sorry for all the pain that POS rained on your life..

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    • You’re right. Loser is all of those things and I STILL struggle with how a daddy can say those things about his own son…but then I remember my own mama. I always thought that a mans’ greatest wish was to have a son…especially a namesake…but, I guess I was wrong.

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      • He may very well have believed that’s what he wanted.. A son and namesake.. Remember his mother? (Insert sarcasm..) she in all her alcoholic-narcissistic glory “entitled” him to a namesake. Making sperm deposit does not make him a father.

        He’s an asshole.

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      • And how a father can say those things to and about his son is beyond my comprehension… How your mother could do what she did to you is also beyond my comprehension…

        I would lay down and die for my kids in a breath or heartbeat.
        I cannot imagine the cruelty, abuse and neglect..

        You are a much stronger lady than you likely even recognize❤️

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        • During my numerous counseling sessions, I am always asked about harming myself or someone else. My response about harming someone else (Loser?) is always…no….I know how it feels, but I know without a doubt that if anybody hurt or was trying to hurt one of my children, I would do whatever it took to protect them…or I would die trying.

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          • Because you know what compassion and love and empathy are.. You have the capacity to love… Truly amazing given the environment you grew up in and the miserable people that were supposed to be your role models and protectors.

            ❤️

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              • But you do, because if you didn’t have that capacity.. You wouldn’t be grieving the losses and trauma’s you’ve experienced. You wouldn’t care much about anything… Much like your asshole ex.

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                  • I believe that’s because you are guarded and protecting yourself.. Totally understandable…

                    I wish I could take you in and nurture you. That is what you need ❤️

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                    • What a lovely thing to say. Believe me when I tell you that the people, like you, who are reading, understand and responding to my story means so much to me. Sometimes I think “what am I going to do when I finish my blog?” This blog actually gives me something to look forward to….albeit painful recollections…but it’s also the support I am receiving.

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