Day 205

I’ve lost count of how many breakdowns my son has had in anger over everything he has lost in Trump’s America. For months, despite his love of taekwondo, he refused to take classes because he despises doing things via Zoom. He hates all things virtual. So when we moved temporarily to New York, I found the only ATA studio on Long Island and enrolled him. It was quite a drive twice a week from my Mom’s house in Mattituck. But it was worth it. My son was happy. He smiled again. He was having fun. He was looking forward to competing. Twice a week he was excited about doing the one thing that gives him a sense of confidence.

Then yesterday, I got an email from the instructor saying he was closing the school. Effective immediately. He lost 70 percent of his students when the school initially locked down, and many haven’t returned due to continued restrictions. Without students, his income withered and he could no longer pay his rent. The landlord refused to cut a deal. And so he closed. Of course today Trump announced that he refused to work with the Democrats on a stimulus plan until after the election. Proving once again the bastard doesn’t give a shit about anyone but himself. That stimulus money could have kept the taekwondo school open. It could have kept my son from spiraling. But hell, Trump didn’t care when he killed my father, why would this bother him. Knowing Trump, he probably laughs every times he sees a kid crying, and he laughs hardest when he knows that he’s responsible for the child’s pain.

When I broke the news of the school closing to my son, his initial response was, “I don’t want to stop again. I guess I’ll do Zoom.” I contacted his home instructor to let him know my son was going to attempt another class. My son was excited, until ten minutes before class when he suddenly become morose, cranky. He didn’t want to change into his uniform. He didn’t want to go outside. He didn’t want to go in front of the camera. I told he him didn’t have to do zoom class and he snapped at me, “You don’t understand. Covid has ruined everything. It killed my grandfather. It took Disney away. I’m stuck with you in homeschool. And now it shut down taekwondo. It’s not fair. My life sucks.”

It took awhile but I got him to calm down. He insisted he wanted to do the zoom class even though his attitude said something else. When I questioned him he said, “I’m already behind all my friends. They are all moving on to second degree. If I stop again I’ll never move up. But I wasted a month. A whole month. Everything I learned is useless because now I have to learn something new.” He’s talking about the weapon’s form. He was learning nunchucks but now he has to learn staff and the rest of his class already knows most of the form. He didn’t know any of it. But I do — sort of — and I promised him I’d help. That I’d work with him. So he went to class, but he refused to be on camera. He did what the instructor asked, but he did it off screen, refusing to let himself be seen. When I asked why, he said, “I don’t want anyone to laugh at me.” I don’t think anyone would laugh, but my son is like me, he tends to be overly self conscious. He’s mad at himself for not doing zoom class for six months, and frustrated that everyone else did.  

When the class moved onto the staff form, I found my son siting on the deck crying, despite my promise to help. “I’ll never catch up,” he said. The class knew three quarters of the form. After the first few moves my son was lost. So I went into the woods, ripped a branch off a dead tree (we only own one staff) and told my son to stop crying because I’d do my best to show him what I knew. It wouldn’t be pretty. His instructor would have to clean it up, but we’d get him where he needed to be. I know his instructor will work with him, make sure he gets what he needs. He always has in the past. And I know he wants my son to be happy and successful. But my son was having an emotional moment. He needed something immediately.

After class, my son went into his room and closed the door. He refused to talk to me. All he wanted to do was finish his most recent puzzle and watch Cobra Kai for the seventh time. Concerned, I knocked, but he told me to go away. Reminding me that it really didn’t matter if he ever went to Zoom class again because, “You know, it’s Covid. It’s everywhere. It will probably just ruin something else.”

I wish Dad were here. Dad would know how to reach him. Dad would know what to say. Dad would be able to convince him that being behind was no big deal. If Dad told him, “Trust your instructor,” my son would listen. But if Dad hadn’t died, my son wouldn’t be so angry to begin with. He wouldn’t have lost the best thing in his life. If Dad were here, problems with taekwondo would be just that and nothing more. They would be minor. 

And my son isn’t the only one feeling lost and angry. If Dad were alive, he’d be the one I turned to for advice. I would have called him up asking what I should do, how I could motivate my son, snap him out of his insecurity. But he isn’t here, so while my son buries himself in puzzles, I’m burying myself in writing. My only outlet. And as I write, the tears are spilling onto the table. There have been so many tears this year — way too many. And I’m beginning to wonder if they’ll ever end.