Meg Meeker - Strong Mothers, Strong Sons: Lessons Mothers Need to Raise Extraordinary Men

Janie was, to the outside world, the perfect mother. As an imperfect one, I envied her calm demeanor, her unflappable personality, and her devotion to her two children. She was the kind of mother who baked chocolate zucchini cake for her boys, boys who loved it because shed taught them to eat and enjoy healthy foods. She packed their lunches every day, with organic snacks. She worked part-time in a bookstore, but got home each afternoon before school let out so she would be there when her sons Jason, thirteen, and Drew, eleven, arrived home. She volunteered at her sons school for recess duty and as room mother, and even canned her own vegetables. She was the kind of mom the rest of us love to hate.

I will never forget the tormented expression on Janies face that early January morning in 2005. She came alone to my office to talk about her son Jason, despite the heavy snow, which always made driving in northern Michigan a harrowing experience. But she was desperate.

When I opened the exam room door, I was startled by her ashen face. She looked exhausted. Not the usual I just had a terrible nights sleep exhaustion, but a fatigue that had set in over many months. Something was clearly terribly wrong at home.

Whats going on? I immediately asked.

Its Jason, she said apologetically. Hes out of control. Jim cant handle him and neither can I. I just dont know what to do.

He was thirteen at the time. I had known Jason since he was two and he had always been a handfulspirited, curious, and volatile. Janie and Jim had adopted him through an open adoption from his young birth mother, and had graciously cared for her during the first three months of his life. Even as an infant, Jason was one of those boys who just seemed to be wired a bit differently. He was cute, cuddly, and affectionate but also slightly unpredictable, prone to occasional explosions of his temper. At eight, a psychiatrist and education specialist diagnosed him with ADHD and I reluctantly went along with medicating him with a small dose of a stimulant. I wasnt quite convinced that ADHD was the reason for his behavior problems, but I thought that a trial of a stimulant might not hurt. He took the medication and it seemed to helpat least for several years.

I just dont understand his behavior, Janie told me. One minute hell be joking with us at dinner, then the next minute he erupts! Hell jump up from the table and start yelling at me or his dad for no reason. Weve tried grounding him and taking privileges away from him but nothing seems to work. Two nights ago, he snuck out of the house in the middle of the night and got caught by the police drinking beer with some guys in the Walmart parking lot.

Janie began to cry. Her sonthe apple of her and his fathers eyewas suddenly a troubled kid, like the sullen, angry teenage boys depicted on highway billboard ads for drug and alcohol rehabilitation centers. The trouble was, Jason didnt look like that kid on the outside. He was clean-cut, always nicely dressed (no tattoos or piercings), and he addressed his parents friends politely. He was an outstanding hockey player. He went to church regularly, even attended a few youth groups, and once went on a trip with a local church to help families in New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina hit. His parents loved him, spent a lot of time with him, and seemingly attended to all of his needs.

Where did I go wrong? Janie wailed. Tell me and Ill fix it. Please, tell me. I need to know because I cant go on like this any longer. How could this little boy who Ive poured my heart into for thirteen years suddenly hate his father and me so much? Ive tried, but theres nothing left. And the worst part is he scares me. When his dads not around and he flies off the handle, he gets physical. One time he pushed me hard up against the kitchen wall! I think it was an accident, but who knows; all I know is that I was really scared. Hes twice my size.

We sat together for many minutes and I wondered whom or what Janie was crying harder for: Jason, herself, or the loss of the beautiful thirteen-year-old boy she had always envisioned that her son would become, but hadnt.

That day, I tried to help her sort through the gnarled complexity of Jasons emotions and hers so that, while she couldnt fully understand them as yet, she (we) could at least devise a plan. She needed to have a plan so that she could move forward. She needed to be able to find hope in the midst of this anguish, which was making her feel as though her life was collapsing around her. And I do believe that I helped Janie find hope. After all, helping her was the best way I could help my patient, her son.

Janie would tell you that particular day in January was a turning point in her life. It was the day she realized that Jason wasnt who she really wanted him to be; but even more important, that she wasnt the mother she wanted to be. It was a day that began a significant new freedom for her. It was the day that Janie recognized that she not only had one problem on her handswhatever was driving her sons out-of-control behaviorbut equally important, that she had her own issues to face, the demons within her, that had festered for over thirteen years, the ones that were embryonic even as she finished college. But where would she start, with his pain or hers? Her new freedom felt exhilarating, but also overwhelming. I suggested that if she were to understand her son, she would have to start by understanding herself. And as it turned out, she had a lot of emotional baggage she brought to her role as mother.

Shortly after that visit, she began seeing a counselor who meticulously unraveled the hidden anger Janie harbored toward men, anger that shed been carrying around for years. When she was in her early teens, she had been assaulted by a male neighbor and told no onenot her parents, her husband, or even her best friend. She hated the man for what he did and, for a number of complex reasons, she blamed herself for what happened. When Jason hit puberty, something triggered that pent-up rage in her and she subconsciously took her hurt out on him. In hindsight, she realized her own behavior had changed. Shed become sarcastic and demeaning and secretly felt a sense of disgust toward her own son. She was aware of that disgust, but was so appalled by it that she persisted in pushing it away and trying to ignore it, neither of which stopped the feeling from persisting.