My hurting tofu-heart

My son seems angry and reactive all the time lately.  He's like a gun, fully loaded and ready to fire. Or a box of fire-crackers waiting unlit in their box - and a bushfire sweeping this way.  Either that or I am the match.  Or his father. Or his sister. All the people he loves best in the world. And the ones who love him through all of it.

He's thinking of changing schools but, to be honest, I'm not sure if it's going to do any good.  That saying keeps coming into my mind: "Wherever you go.  There you are!"  There's much truth to that and I am just hoping he doesn't have to learn the hard way.  But what other way is there?  All the lessons are hard ones.  They all cause us pain. They all leave an imprint like a bruise that turns yellow.

He was having a tour of the new school today (it happens to be the one I work at - or used to - the local high school) and so a colleague of mine took him around and showed him the various facilities and, particularly, the music auditorium and percussion suite (where he would have his lessons - he's a drummer).  He was in his private school uniform but we all decided it would be best for him to take off his tie and blazer and pull out his shirt to take the tour, so he didn't draw unwanted attention to himself.  When they were in the Design and Technology section (woodwork and metal work etc) some kid told my son to "pull up his pants".  Now, he does wear them low (a look all adults detest, but it's something they have to go through) but, instead of ignoring this potential fellow-student, my boy gives him the finger (and probably told him to fuck off, although he didn't admit that)!  I immediately thought NO.  You can't start like this!  But that's my fear coming into it.  My fear that he will never find a safe place to land, a place where others will stop judging him all the time and gaining kudos from his inability (or complete lack of desire) to fit in.

I never fitted in at school.  My whole early life was an elaborate exercise in fitting in.  And I never cracked it.  We come from a family of artists, teachers and scientists. We are often outspoken and opinionated but, conversely, sensitive and easily broken.  We are a complex combination of optimism and melancholy; strength and susceptibility; fortitude and weakness. And my son is no different.

I often feel overwhelming injustice for that which I see happening around me which often serves to break me into defenceless pieces, rather than be a catalyst for action.  I shy away from confrontation in all its forms but then I will spring without thinking to someone's defence.  I will make rash decisions and have to live with the consequences. And often those consequences will require a greater amount of fearlessness to live with, and through, than the original decision.

But one thing, through all this, that I always require from myself is to be myself.  I don't need to be like anyone else and neither does my boy.  But that's taken a life-time to realise. He is only 13.

So my original reaction to his "inappropriate" finger sign to the boy who chose to comment without invitation, was NO!!! Don't do that.  Keep it inside.  Hide away your true feelings lest you get hurt more than you have already been.  Don't let them see what you really feel.  Ignore the bastards.

But that's the 'good' mother talking.  The one with the brittle honey-comb heart.  The one who always says and does the right things and doesn't upset anyone.  The one who so badly wants her son to fit in that she'll say or do anything to make that happen.  Even if it goes against her knowledge of what courage is.

And I am, whether I like it or not, tofu-hearted mother.  And I will continue to cheer on my son regardless of his choices.  Regardless of the fine messes he will inevitably get himself into. Regardless of my initial reaction to some of the things he does.  He can put the finger up to the whole world if he so wishes.  And he can say "fuck you" as well to the haters and the bitches and the cruelties of life.  Because he's not me.  He is himself. And he has courage and guts like I never had.  And I am so proud of him. No. Matter. What.

And isn't that all any of us ever want?