Unfriending: The untold and unhappy story

I have, in my time on Facebook, unfriended several people and been more than okay with it.  While in hindsight it seems rather like a cyber-tantrum most folks don't discover they have been unfriended for months. And most of those whom I have released are right wing tea party zealots with whom I have zero, zip, zilch in common other than a high school diploma from North Bergen High School in Jersey.  That's not much of a bonding medium. It's also not much of a place to be from.

Almost always the "unfriender" rarely the" unfriendee" (unless you want to count the handful of people who dropped mein a show of support for a friend after I could no longer stand her lunacy. Hello high school?))  Until today - or was it yesterday- when I was cast aside by my son. Let me note that the entire "friending" act was initially prompted by him.  I  personally have no interest in having any clues to his depraved life (even though he lives under my roof)  Therein lies the problem.  He lives here. I find clues. They are not nice.

To live here he has been repeatedly asked to comply with five simple rules.  Sadly, he has been unable to maintain even one of them.  In exchange for his blatant nose thumbing to our repeated requests, he has been allowed to live here rent free, expense free, get his bills paid by his step dad (his money not ours), add food to the grocery list, live in a pig sty be unsociable and unfriendly, and only clean his bathroom when forced to because company is coming.  Nice deal. (I know, I know...my fault. Enabling is my talent).  This week I served him with my equivalent of an eviction notice.  He has until April 15 to get out. No discussion.  In three months he should be able to find some hole to crawl in.  Why not immediately? It's cold. He has no where to go and I want to sleep at night.  If he ends up under a bridge in April - it won't be as bad for me.

So he is mad at me. (and strangely I don't care). He unfriended me in a show of rebellion and disdain. Really?  That's the best you can do?  I think he's mad cause I threw away some contraband...or he's mad because I am unreasonable...or he's mad because emotionally - like most addicts - he stopped maturing at 15 or 16.  He also won't eat anything I cook (and exactly how is that a punishment for me...) Deep down, I think he's mad at himself....he is unable to be anyone but this 16 year old person trapped in the body of a 29 year old.  Being him sucks.  And even if I gave him a roadmap and a ticket to a newer and better life...he would still mess up.  That's how he is built.

If you don't understand BPD or addiction....you won't understand why I've hung in there so long.  Or how painful it is to accept that this is always how it will be.

Pass me the chocolates please.