help me keep my son from perpetuating the cycle of abuse (very long)

This is so painful and I am so ashamed and hurt it is difficult to talk
about it but you are my family of choice and have been with me through thick
and thin for over four years now and I love you all and need you now more
than ever as my "real" family is very unhealthy for me and my son and not
there for us anyway and have caused part of the problem. I'm going to tell
the whole story so you get the whole picture so as best to understand the
situation so that perhaps you will understand how my son and I got to the
crisis point we are at and hopefully avoid judging and condemning me, please
don't do that right now.

I grew up with a mother who was emotionally vacant and neglectful to the
point that I nearly died as a child of dehydration and abused my whole life
by my father and his crazy family. I also inherited the genetic mental
illness but I also inherited the high intelligence and creativity on my
mother's side, but alas, not the money ;-) (It is my life's dream to study
the genetics of psychiatric illnesses and I am in school now pursuing that.)

But, and this is a huge one. There is something else that has been passed
on. My son watched me be abused by men when he was very young. I don't
remember a lot of my childhood so it's hard for me to relate to what all he
can remember of his but somehow over the last two years my precious little
boy has become very abusive to me emotionally and verbally and it has
reached a crisis point to where he can not live with me. He is 16.

I haven't been able to control him since he got bigger than me two years
ago. He stopped going to school regularly, even though he is very
intelligent and I taught him everything I know about computers and have
given him everything I possibly can. He says he will go back next year and
finish high school and I hope he does but he has a lot of pressure from the
underachievers we live around who do not have his intelligence or skills. I
know I haven't been able to show love for him like "normal" but I have loved
him better than I was loved and I have not physically abused him, that I am
proud of, especially for having bipolar disorder. I have done my best to
take care of my mental health ever since I recognized that there was
something wrong with me, looking for the right pills, since I was 18 and old
enough to have my own insurance since my mother believes I am demon
possessed and just need to go back to church. Just last year I finally got
the right anti-depressant and am finally awake! All the others made me
tired and fat. I could go on for paragraphs about side effects... But
mainly being asleep is the one that affected my poor child the worst, I know
what it feels like to be ignored, that hurts worst than any beating, in my
opinion.

Psychic scars hurt and I can see that I have hell to pay for what my mental
illness and the abuse that has been heaped on me in the past has done to my
little boy who stands before me an angry young man. The thing is, I am
tired and small and hurt and out of everyone, I am the only one who stood by
him all these years, why does he hate me so much that he wants to punish me
so badly? Everyday he calls me names and I tell him not to talk to me like
that but he goes on like I didn't say anything, he drives my car without a
license, he smokes pot and cigarettes and drinks and tells me the child
support that I get, that I finally get after all these years, is free money,
that I don't earn it, that I don't do anything because keeping a roof over
his head, the lights on, food in the fridge and on the table and tv in his
room and internet on his computer and gas in the car isn't work, and fixing
computers isn't anything, even he can do that. I used to have such
confidence and sometimes I still do but then I come home. My college
education means nothing to him even though he was THERE. I took him to the
University of Wisconsin with me when he was five, he went to daycare and
then kindergarten right there on campus, he got a wonderful, radical
education. I've tried so hard to expose him to literature and art and
politics and music and gave him all these computer skills that he is so
proud of. He has new clothes, I don't. His computer runs 5 times faster
than mine and has all the new stuff. I knew when I had him that I didn't
have what it takes to be a mother, much less a young, single mother and I
wanted to give him up for adoption but my mother and my aunt (the god squad)
ripped up the papers "you're not giving away our grand baby" but after he
was born it was all "you made your bed, you lie in it" "we raised ours
alone, you can do it too." "you broke God's law (fornication), all these
things that you are suffering, this is your punishment." That last one, my
mom said that to me again just last month. She wasn't being cruel, she
really believes that. And unfortunately, apparently so do I. It is not
helpful. I didn't know that I had a mental illness until after he was born.
I didn't know that it was genetic until a few years ago and when I found
that out I had my tubes tied, it stops with me.

I don't bother telling my mother any of this for obvious reasons or my aunt
as they both are already old and overwhelmed with ill health and caring for
other family members who are having health problems. I have no other
family. His father lives far away and resents his existence and burden of
child support and has his "own" family to support so I don't think he will
take him in or be a good role model either. I have been calling the foster
care people for two weeks and they have been giving me the run around while
my son gets more and more aggressive and I get more and more frustrated.
Friday I called 911 and said come get him before I hurt him but they said I
was stuck with him until he is 18 and put me through to some intake worker
who said she would mail me an appointment. I said we did not have time to
wait for the mail and she hung up on me. I started calling numbers at
random that were similar to hers and got a case worker who put me through to
her supervisor but it was voice mail so I left a message. Sunday I got gas
and my son insisted on driving and I was too tired and defeated to argue
even though he doesn't have a license and puts up a fight every time I try
to get him to get a permit, anyway we get to the store with the last of our
money and he wants pop but we only have enough for the gas and a 99 cent
mocha each. But I break down and get him the damn pop. (This is a side of
me none of you have seen before isn't it.) Anyway, I come out of the store
and he yells across the lot, "That's not the kind of pop I want you dumb
crack!" I stare at him in shock. How did it get this bad? How is it that I
haven't had a man in my life for 7 years since the last guy broke my back
and I decided to focus on my son and yet he still turned into one of "them"?
(Now someone will say "she has an us and them mentality, it's her fault.
burn the witch. I have a them and them mentality. men who abuse and men who
do not feel the need to offend. but burn away, i'm on fire anyway) How did I
screw this up, the only thing that really matters? And who is going to save
my soul?

I point out that this is the same pop I got last week that he complained
that I didn't get enough of back when we had money. This is all so
familiar. I have made these same apologetic rationalizations to numerous
abusive men in the past before and it is pointless. It has to stop. It has
to stop with me. I get up and take the pop back into the store for a
refund. The lady looks at me like I am crazy (!) but gives me my dollar
fifty back and for the reason why I write down 'ungrateful kid' and she
laughs with me. My son is irate and I hear about it all the way home how
crazy I am while I tell him how he just isn't used to me standing up for
myself and holding him accountable but I plan to do it more often. I will
pay, I will pay big for this, but I have no idea yet. His friend comes over
needing his computer fixed. Word travels fast when you fix computers for
free. He asks if he can use my computer to format his friends hard drive.
Hell no! That is taking a big risk that you will accidentally lose the data
on your hard drive, take that risk on your own computer or, better yet, take
that risk on your friend's computer. Here, take my windows '98 cd... and I
advise him how to do it. I work on my webpage a little and post some of my
poems and my newest song. I am taking physics and have a lot of studying to
do, I love going to college, I am good at it. My computer is my life. I
have been a computer technician since 1996, it is my link to this news group
and my email which is an important social need and to the Internet where I
am constantly keeping my overactive brain busy doing research learning and
helping people with my knowledge and all my poems and songs and webpage and
2 years worth of data are on my 30 gigabyte hard drive.

Monday I came home from school and turned on my computer and nothing
happened... it wouldn't boot. It was as if my son had killed my dog. For
you guys out there, imagine you had a prized Porsche that you cherished and
showed off and took care of every day and your son got mad at you, had been
mad at you for a lot of things that you just didn't know how to fix and you
came home one day and your son asked if he could drive it and you said no
and you came home and your Porsche was sitting in your drive way all crashed
up, how angry would you be? I couldn't breathe. I couldn't speak. I got
in my car and drove to his friend's house and he got in and I took him to
the woods near there and told him how he hurt me and he had no right, he had
crossed the last boundary, he no longer lived at my house and that when he
went and told everyone how crazy I was to be sure and tell them what he had
done. I did not hit him or touch him at all, he was not scared of me in any
way, (he is a foot taller than me and much faster and I can't run, I have
two compressed disks in my lower back) he was annoyed. I said I was going
to smash up his computer but he pointed out that his is worth way more than
mine and I'd just have to pay for it so what's the sense in that. He walked
back to the car before I did and tried to use his keys to get in but I got
in and went home and sat down and called 911 again. They put me through to
crisis and I told them again how much worse things had gotten and to please
find some place for my son to live because he could not live with me, he was
hurting me and I was having a hard time holding it together and I did not
want it to escalate either way. Do something! I have a counselor, he has a
counselor, it's going to take more than that. His constant abuse is
aggravating my PTSD and I don't want to be abusive to him. I've been
accused of having a victim mentality on here before, I think maybe that is
what has contributed to how he has learned to treat me so please don't beat
me up about that, certainly that will make things worse. So, the police
came to my house. I was surprised to see them as I thought I had handled it
pretty well, having gotten my point across without resorting to violence but
what I didn't know is that my son had told them that I tried to kill him.
He said this in front of my only friend, who knows me really well, but they
did not listen to her even though she is an adult, they listened to him,
presumably because although he is a minor he looks like a man. So now those
who have a history of picking on me for "having issues with men" can start
blaming this on me for that. Or maybe it's all Eve's fault, but I already
apologized for that at gunpoint when I was married to my psycho ex-husband
in front of my son when he was three, he remembers that better than I do,
I've gotten really good at dissociating (leaving your body when your body
and spirit find it necessary to take a break from each other for awhile).
And before you blame me for getting involved with abusive men, they are not
abusive at first, it is like a spider's web. Very beautiful and intricate
and silky soft and smooth but damned difficult to get out of and the harder
you try to get out of it the more stuck you are. Precious few escape. And
I have worked very hard at escaping, I attract psychos, they like my fiery
personality and my lovingness combination and I never know they are a psycho
until it's too late. I did abstain for all those years but I guess that was
too late. Well, this is the biggest pity party I've had in a long time.
Probably because I haven't had this much pain come to the surface in years.

So, the police, once again, reinforced my fear and loathing of them although
they were pretty kind and respectful when they went about it by NOT helping
me. I have learned repeatedly that the police do not help women who are
being abused by men, they only know how to punish and they are good at that
and they tend to identify with the man. I have heard contrary from others,
but this has been my experience time and time and time again regardless of
my behavior or attitude or what part of the country I am in. Because my son
lied to the police about how I reacted to him destroying my computer they
took me to involuntary psych unit. It has been a long time since I have
been treated with such indignity and it really brought out the abused child
in me to be abandoned and ignored which about sums up what it's like to be
locked up in the emergency room. It is completely useless as a health care
tool. You get no sleep, you get NO medication, they make you take off all
your clothes and wear a napkin (you might make a slingshot out of your
brassiere or something), and when you ask for help no one will listen to
you, because you are a mental patient. It brings back some very bad
memories. I had two angels. I am hypoglycemic and nearly fainted on my way
back from the bathroom because they also do not feed you on the psych ward
in the middle of the night and I also needed my pain meds but fat chance I
was even going to bother asking for that, much less my mental health meds,
ironic though that may be. But for some reason I have the survival skill of
tenacity, I asked every single nurse that walked by until one listened to me
and she got me some 7UP. She also picked up the bloody gauze that was on
the floor next to my bed that was there when I got there that I pointed out
was a hospital liability but none of the other nurses would listen to me
about it. (good thing I'm not THAT kind of crazy, sheesh, what if it had
AIDS on it or something?) The other one was the security guard watching me.
Being ignored really gets to me and I almost lost it and he came over and
said you brought that book with you (a physics book) he said he had no idea
what it was about but that if I filled my head with the book there would be
no room for my mother, my mother was NOT there. And then he proceeded to
watch over me, in a good way. I even fell asleep for awhile, in peace.

They released me to the care of my counselor's office where, thankfully,
they know me very well and they know I am not a violent psycho like my son
and the police were making me out to be and they made arrangements to
contact foster care on my behalf and let me go so I could get to class. A
taxi took me home and when I got there my car was gone. Boy was I mad, lol.
My son had run the gas out but at least it was all in one piece and my
friend brought it to me and I went to school and tried to fake normal,
that's like trying to pretend that you are not on fire. Who is this child
and where is my real son? How do I get him back? Why won't the system stop
screwing around and help us? Now what do I do?