But I also can’t tell you how many times I’ve called for help, asked for help, begged for help because I’d done everything for his medical and mental health, everything disciplinary short of abuse (which I absolutely refused to resort to abuse because really how will that help a mentally bill child or any child for that matter?). In March 2018 I had to give my son over to the state to protect my 2 younger children, which rips my heart to pieces daily knowing I can’t help or be near my oldest because I’m terrified of him.
I think I just lost a little more of myself with each new situation. Within 2 years, at 14, my son began to talk in depth about his desire to taste human flesh, and I woke up at approximately 330 am in the middle of summer 2017 with my oldest son touching me inappropriately. Until I had to escalate a situation where my oldest was punished for documented medical issues all the way to the Federal Department of Education Office of Civil Rights. We finally settled in a small town, started over. Due to a high risk pregnancy it took months to leave that and struggling moving from place to place living with friends with my now released oldest, my middle child, and pregnant. I got into a new relationship after 8 years of being single, and that became controlling and verbally abusive, bordering on physical. My son was then diagnosed with conduct disorder, precursor to socio or psychopathy.
He then turned the knife on me in front of the officer and kept coming until the officer drew his weapon and placed a round in the chamber. In febrFebr he threatened suicide and when the officer arrived to determine whether or not to commit him for evaluation, my child ran to the kitchen and got a butcher knife and ran to the back yard. In 2015 my child was 3 in taller and over 150 lbs heavier due to combined medical issues. By 11 my son had been hospitalized multiple times for suicidal ideations and severe behavioral issues. When I hid away enough money I got the courage to take my 5 year old disabled (mentally ill) child and leave. Over the next six years he would take away every ounce of confidence I had, I’d beg officers not to write reports of spousal abuse because I feared for my life (this man got away with 97 felony counts in Ocala, FL, of course I’d be scared). At 19 I became pregnant, met my future husband, and moved in with my new abuser. I spent 2 years in a juvenile prison when I tested positive for marijuana and cocaine while on probation for fighting.