It all started with Younger Boy leaving Middle Boy's door open.  Was it intentional?  I think so.  Can I prove that?  Nope.

Sophie chewed up his headphones.  He was FURIOUS....disproportionately furious.

This turned into a barrage of screaming at me for everything he is "sure" I say to him.  How he doesn't do anything right.  How he doesn't help around the house.  How he is a horrible son.  How he is a failure, because he is the one who volunteered to train Sophie.  I think he should be perfect.  He is never going to amount to anything.  He should just die.  He doesn't deserve a family.  Everyone hates him.  He is doing his best and it is never good enough.  He ruins everything.  If he could go back to when he was a child he wishes he could have died during the abuse.  If I expect him to become vulnerable I can just forget it.

It was a 40 minutes tirade.  I didn't say a word.  I can't anymore.  My words get twisted and used against me and it is easier to simply ride the wave.

I can always tell when the rage is ending, because his body language changes.  He sat down next to me.  He just wanted me to hug him and scratch his back.  To reconnect.  To tell him he is safe and he isn't going anywhere.  That I love him.

It is hard to do.  Every ounce of my being wants to leave the room...walk away when he is like this.  I know (from all of my classes and research) this is the most damaging.  That in times like this I have to do EVERYTHING in my power to reconnect.  Doesn't make it easy.

I rocked Middle Boy to sleep while quietly singing to him.
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