Dear Roger: All For Naught?

I don't know the exact moment when I lost my life, but it seemed to happen slowly for me, especially since I had always been a somewhat selfish and daredevil type person. I lived a lifestyle of someone who really didn't expect to live a long life, but it was going to be a fun life packed with as much adventure and debauchery as possible, but then one day I got a wake up call in the form of a little curly haired, blue eyed, dimpled , baby boy that had no one to count on but me. His biological father had not been inclined to contribute anything other than some dna that he felt necessary to force upon me, and death threats for both of us when I contacted him with the news he was going to be a father, I guess when one is a paramedic, the only lives one cares about are those of strangers, but thus I digress. The baby boy only had me; erratic, immature, selfish, ME. I wasn't sure what to do with him at first but then he looked at me with those big blue eyes and something came over me and I knew that I had to do  my best for him no matter what, and my best was taking whatever jobs I could find, getting back into school so I could eventually get better paying jobs, and it meant that I stopped all the things that I used to do FOR myself.
For close to the last two decades I have lived for that little boy, (and his siblings), I made tough choice, gave up friends, dreams, pride, and travel to make sure he had things he wanted and needed. I'm not crying about it, its simply the way things are supposed to be. I struggled, I was humiliated from time to time, asking strangers for help when my health became so tenuous that I could not work enough to provide well for the little boy, I have sat in public assistance offices under the cold glare of the cheap lighting and felt like I wanted to sink through the floor, I have read the posts on my friends Facebooks walls about how they they welfare recipients are scum, and I cringe and think to myself that I wonder if they have any idea how humiliating and hard it is for someone who has had it all, then lost it all and struggled to take care of a child on their on while trying to get the father to help out, to real that kind of post from,"Friends" but I never say anything, I just pretend I didn't see it and I read on down and see their next post about how they think abortion is murder, and I remember about how that is what the father demanded that I end the little boy that way and how for one desperate moment when I realized I was going to be kicked out of Paramedic school and lose my job as an EMT, I considered it, but then I say nothing and I remember how much I loved that little boy from the moment he was placed in my arms.
He was a sweet child, all curls and dimples and big blue eyes and polite manners that charmed the hell out of everyone who met him. He has always been strikingly handsome and he was an outstanding student up until he reached high school, and even when life at home became difficult due to the situation with my exhusband, the little boy tried his best to be the hero. He started to change after he became a teenager, and while that is expected, he became a hostile and angry young man.
Ive tried soo many things to help him, he wanted to stay in one place, we stayed in one place until the reason he wanted to stay was not working out. He wanted to try online high school I let him try online high school. He wanted to go back to high school, I helped him go back. He wanted to move, we moved. We finally got a car, finally moved to a great neighborhood, finally have a great life looking right at us and he just seems to be angry all the time. His girlfriend was being abused at home so I allowed her to move in so she could finish high school in a safe environment. I thought that would make him happy, but it didn't. Nothing I do seems to make him happy anymore, and there are no more sweet hugs or,"Mom, I love you's: from him. In fact, there haven't been for a long time. We move around each other in the house much like my ex and I did, he like an angry lion about to strike out at me, and I like a nervous mouse. I cannot do anything, or say anything right so I have given up trying and I just go to work, do my job and come home at the end of the day, hopeful he is elsewhere so I will not incite his wrath again and hear the words that made me truly feel like my life was over, "I fucking hate you, you are the worst mother ever, I wish you would just go die."