THE DIAGNOSIS: PART TWO OF A TRILOGY

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Following my THE ARGUMENT: PART ONE OF A TRILOGY blog post, here's the second part of the trilogy focusing on my analysis of the problematic situation involving my stepson and my wife.

I first want to dwell on the name-calling during the heated argument between my stepson and myself before moving onto other relationships involved in the situation.

My stepson called me a cunt. Calling someone a cunt here is quite an insult. When he was a kid, I took him to many ice hockey and football games, including his first Arsenal, the team he supports, home and away games. It's not easy nor cheap to get tickets to watch Arsenal play at home. I also took him away to many holidays, including holidays in Morocco and The Gambia. But let's leave aside what I did for him when my stepson was a kid, though I did pay for his last Gambia holiday and a weekend away in Amsterdam when he was an adult. Since he became an adult, I welcomed him to live in my home rent-free. I, plus his older brother, bailed him out when he incurred significant debts to a big-time drug dealer without a thank-you from him. And I set him up (costing me about £2,000) in a rented house for him to live with his then girlfriend. He trashed the house; not even a teaspoon came back home. I even lent him my late Dad's oak desk saying I wanted it back; he set fire to it! Hopefully, you can see why I don't take kindly being called a cunt by him.

I called my stepson a slob, something I think he'll have problems denying. Even my wife accepts he's a slob. He asked me why I call him a slob. I replied that he regularly pisses on the toilet seat, gobs in the bathroom basin and leaves his dirty underwear on the bathroom floor, all without cleaning things up. He throws rubbish, beer bottles and cans, plus cigarette ends, out of his bedroom window which I have to pick up. He leaves the kitchen like a bomb site before he goes to work. He can't be arsed to put the milk back in the fridge or even replace the top on the bottle of milk. The kitchen tops are just full of mess, whether it's spilt coffee or tea, half-eaten and dunked biscuits or stuff emptied from cupboards, all for me to sort out when I later get up. Since I called him a slob, there is evidence that he's less of a slob. But it's early days.

It's me calling him a bum which seems to have gone down particularly badly with both my stepson and wife. I probably phrased this insult badly especially as two of my stepson's friends were witnessing the argument. My stepson and his friends work in construction, his two friends are skilled tradesmen - one was the plumber who came round to fix the bathroom radiator problem. My stepson is a construction grunt employed to follow orders and do the heavy lifting. That's okay if that's what he wants. But he didn't want it. My stepson was moaning about getting up early to work, working in the cold and rain, taking orders from his boss, and not being paid enough. I encouraged him to go to university saying that he could do it.

At first, my stepson registered on a criminology degree course at a local university - please note the drug-dealing connection. At the time I encouraged him to apply to universities away from where he lives. His degree studies didn't go well; my wife was writing most of his assignments. I kept saying to my wife that this doesn't help him. He failed his first year, which isn't easy to do provided you turn up to classes and hand in the work.

After another year or so working in construction, my stepson was still moaning about construction. I suggested university again but to do a degree course that will enhance his career. This time, he chose business studies - note the drug-dealing connection again! My stepson did pass the degree though yet again my wife wrote a couple of his later essays and I even helped him big time with two of his later exams. My stepson had taken the foot off the pedal but on graduating he was cock-a-hoop. But it all meant nothing because he didn't look or even apply for graduate jobs, he didn't attend any graduate job fairs and he didn't make use of his university's career service. He then when straight back to construction. That's quite something when university has no effect on someone.

That's why I call my stepson a bum, not because construction is a bum industry to work in, far from it, but because my stepson didn't have the discipline to see things through. His job prospects would improve if he could drive but he can't get round to pass his driving test. My stepson thinks he can drive but he can't legally drive. Back to the point, me calling my stepson a bum has led to me being called a snob! I don't think I am but I guess that's for others to judge.

My stepson talks a good game or at least a game but he doesn't see it through. There was a time quite recently he was going to join the military, but nothing happens. He's over 30 years of age, soon life will pass him by career- and job-wise. And even life-wise. He's a drug dealer and that's what makes him money and why he thinks he's Mr Big in town.

I've only covered one relationship so far, one between me and my stepson which has deteriorated significantly since moving house over two years ago. In my city centre apartment, because there was a downstairs bathroom for him to to use, because he had a large bedroom with access to a roof terrace, and because his friends just couldn't walk into apartment as there was a gate to get past, I probably didn't see him at his worst.

There are two other relationships to cover in this diagnosis, my wife's relationship with her son and my relationship with my wife.

Regarding my wife's relationship with my stepson, I've never understood it. I can appreciate that parents, whether father or mother, will always side with their offspring. But I've never got a full handle on my wife's relationship with her son. Is it that she and his father split, so she's over-compensating to gain his love? Is it because he's the youngest and always needs looking after? I really don't know. I get on very well with my wife's oldest son and I get on well with her daughter. And I get on with my wife's two grandkids, especially the youngest.

I just don't get my wife's relationship with my stepson. From where I'm standing, she's bringing him up to fail by clearing up his now adult messes. But I don't have kids so it's probably not for me to judge.

I've noticed my stepson's older brother and particularly his older sister also indulge him. It's understandable and even admirable that they stick together rather than argue with each other as only siblings can.

The latest incident was last week when me and my wife looked after the two grandkids for a few days while my stepdaughter was away on holiday in Spain. The stepdaughter told my wife, her mother, to leave the two kids' clothes outside in a bag - we have a lean-to shed just off our kitchen so it's dry. The reason why my stepdaughter wants her kids' clothes outside is because she doesn't want them smelling of weed. My stepson smokes weed industrially in his bedroom which my two grandkids love to enter. But my stepdaughter's solution doesn't seem to be a solution in my eyes. The solution is that my stepson, whom my grandkids idolise, should stop smoking weed, getting drunk and swearing in front of them. To me, my stepdaughter is just pussyfooting around by managing the symptoms of the problem and not confronting her brother to solve the problem.

Regarding my relationship with my wife, my relationship with her is by far the longest I've ever had. But I realise longevity doesn't mean a good relationship. Our relationship has been like a football match in that we had a few years together as a first half, I split for a half-time break, and then we got back and married for a second half without the final whistle being blown yet.

When I split from her at the end of the first half, my wife sent me a text saying that the main reason we split was because of class. Basically I'm middle class and she's working class. But now in our second half, I'm gradually seeing that class could be the issue dividing us.

My wife and I have not had sex for at least four and maybe five years. We don't even share a bed. We don't go out together for a drink or a meal, and we don't go on holiday together. She goes on holiday with her father and daughter; I don't go on holiday. We don't even do our grocery shopping together. By whatever metrics you want to use, our relationship isn't good however you look at it. My wife is also of the view that our relationship is far from good. That wasn't comfortable for me to write.

I don't find it easy talking to my wife, and I'm sure she doesn't find it easy talking to me. I find her words lacking and she finds me full of words and big words at that. So we don't talk much. It's all about surviving the day for me and probably for her. Our relationship is mainly about coexistence.

I'll leave the rest of my analysis of the relationship with my wife until the next and final part of the trilogy because, as things stand, I think it's our relationship which holds the key to one of two solutions of the problem. But I'm very aware of what I consider to be the problem isn't a problem for my wife and stepson. My problem probably isn't their problem. That's how far apart we perhaps all are in the house!

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