We all know Peter Pan. He is the Forever kid, incapable of feelings and love. He lives in a place that rejects tradition and embraces an immortal lack of responsibility. He flies, with his head indefinitely in the clouds. He knows all, yet knows nothing. He defies reason. If you’re not careful, he’ll rope you in.
One minute you’re watching his crazy antics with amusement, as he tries to catch his shadow. Before you know it, you’re following him into his world, thinking you’re going to save him from his own devices and “mother” him into an upstanding young man. Silly girl, Wendy Darling…Peter Pan will never grow up.
One of the biggest heartbreaks ever experienced in life, came from “Raising Peter Pan.” Rather, attempting to raise Peter Pan took me from age 18 to 25 in the blink of an eye and forever altered my life and perspective.
“I just want my freedom and to do whatever I want…I’m over 18 now, I just want my freedom.” Those are words that I will never forget. They were uttered as he kept his eyes affixed to his dirty shoes, standing next to his black garbage bag of belongings on my pristinely clean carpet in our new house. Over 18? He was a kid. God knows he isn’t as mature as his brother and I were at his age when we had decided to start working for and paying for his clothing, private tutoring (he was so far behind in his education when we got him and he had done little since he joined independent study to finish his education. But he thinks he’s “grown?” No driver’s license, because he hadn’t earned that privilege in our home by finishing school.
Of course he wanted to go live with his dad. There were no standards. No rules. He could smoke, drink, drive illegally without a license, he didn’t have a curfew, who he was hanging out with wasn’t being monitored. Why would he not want to live with his dad? His dad is infamously the original Peter Pan, 50 something and stunted at what seems like 12 and here I was, 8-9 months pregnant and the only thing that kept me from knocking his teeth out for smoking weed in our brand new house was the fact that his brother got in between us as I swung on him.
What was left of my heart (which was broken nearly 9 months prior having lost my grandfather and favorite person in the world blasted to pieces when I found this kid who would frequently joke around in stores and call me “Mom” to freak the sales people out thinking I had a kid at like 9 years old, would be so disrespectful to be smoking and doing drugs in our house. A house his brother and I worked our asses off for.
That was the way it’s been. I’ve seen him on the street a time or two. Strung out of his mind. I drive past and pretend it doesn’t bother me. Deep down my heart lurches every time I drive by where he’s known to roam. When I go awhile without spotting him I wonder if he’s overdosed or been killed because he’s gotten in over his head owing money.
When my husband finally broke his denial about his brother being a meth addict, we approached him about treatment. Sentiments echoed were the same as before, Peter Pan wanted his freedom and his freedom only. Freedom gave him his addiction. So freedom is where he laid his future. We are not qualified to help a drug addict. I’m not trained to do so. But it’s always been there, that if he willingly enters treatment we will help him however we can. A hand up, not out.
So of course, a few weeks ago when I got a call from an unknown number after a few years of radio silence, a half hour of apologies, regret and telling me that we were right and everything to him that he wished he hadn’t been so cocky about as kid…everything he thought I’d WANT to hear and I took that bait. Hook, Line and Sinker.
“Always gonna fly away, just because you know you can. Never gonna learn theres no such place as Neverland, you don’t understand. Never gonna grow up, you’re never gonna be a man…Peter Pan.” ~Kelsea Ballerini
“One thing that you need to wrap your mind around, Mrs. Caballero, Is that the boy you raised isn’t there anymore. He’s long gone. You don’t know what he’s done for drugs, on drugs, because of drugs…you cannot think for a moment that he hasn’t been changed for life. Meth changes your brain chemistry and makes the addict engage in risky behavior. Behavior that could ultimately hurt your family in the long run if you aren’t very careful. He could have contracted HIV depending on his method of use. He could be violent. Meth addicts can be sexually promiscuous and forceful. You just don’t know.” KILL SHOT. to my confidence.
Reality comes crashing down. I see my daughter, her safety, her innocence. Decision made in that instant. She’s our gift from god. If I even thought for a moment that she could be compromised in any way from bringing this force back into our lives the answer would always be, “No.”
My husband. He lets me talk through what I need to walk through with him then tells me that even if I had never come to those realizations he would never allow it. He makes me realize that we don’t owe anyone anything. We gave ourselves fully for years. Decisions were made. We were shown no care or respect for our sacrifices. We moved on. We will stay that course as we’ve sacrificed way more than we ever should have for any one or four persons.
Everyone else…they made their beds and they can lie in them.
Peter Pan hasn’t been heard from since my husband laid down boundaries. No doubt he’s off, wandering Neverland looking for his next adventure. That lost boy, will always have a piece of my heart. I will always love and care about him, but I can’t want a lifestyle change for him more than he wants one. I optimistically hold onto hope that one day this lost boy will find himself and make every sacrifice, tear and heartache worth it. All I want is to see him clean…healthy…and happy, with a family of his own someday but I know that he will have to be the one who says when.
“Deep down I knew that you, were too good to be true. Every decent part of me, wanted to believe in you. Now it’s happily ever never, guess now I know better. You’re just a lost boy, with your head up in the clouds. You’re just a lost boy never keep your feet on the ground.” ~Kelsea Ballerini
Gypsy Mogul Mama 