I feel like I'm preparing for
war. For more than two years, my son has sat in his room playing games
online, such as the dreaded "World of Warcraft". He barely leaves the
room to get his daily dose of soft drinks (3 liters of coke) from
Tesco's over the street. Since he was 15, he's gone from being a
healthy looking young boy to a sick, freaky looking young male ridden
with eczema and dressed in the same stained t-shirt he was wearing the
last month and maybe even the month before.
He sleeps in his clothes. When I leave for work in the morning, I pop into his room and find him unconscious in bed, skinny bones sticking out of his trousers, mouth wide open, rashes all over his body. When I get home from work, he's often still in bed. "Hello!" I'll call from downstairs, but am only greeted by the dog who is dying to get out of the house.
I'll run up the stairs and find him still in bed, now slowly awakening. "Hello," he'll stutter while making slow motions to get out of bed.
The rest of the evening and night I hear his bony hands rattle on the keyboard, small happy shrieks when a mission went well in whatever game he's on, deep breaths of excitement as the battles are one.
For so long I've hoped that the GP was right - he's just a teen and we all know how difficult this is, so let's just give him time...
But today, I've hit the wall. This addiction isn't only affecting a teen, it's also slowly but surely ruining my own life.
I'm not having it anymore. Welcome to world of mumcraft! I'm going to get him off those games and back to life.
This is the first day of my war, and my first steps has been to join this site, write this blog and contact an addiction psychologist.
He sleeps in his clothes. When I leave for work in the morning, I pop into his room and find him unconscious in bed, skinny bones sticking out of his trousers, mouth wide open, rashes all over his body. When I get home from work, he's often still in bed. "Hello!" I'll call from downstairs, but am only greeted by the dog who is dying to get out of the house.
I'll run up the stairs and find him still in bed, now slowly awakening. "Hello," he'll stutter while making slow motions to get out of bed.
The rest of the evening and night I hear his bony hands rattle on the keyboard, small happy shrieks when a mission went well in whatever game he's on, deep breaths of excitement as the battles are one.
For so long I've hoped that the GP was right - he's just a teen and we all know how difficult this is, so let's just give him time...
But today, I've hit the wall. This addiction isn't only affecting a teen, it's also slowly but surely ruining my own life.
I'm not having it anymore. Welcome to world of mumcraft! I'm going to get him off those games and back to life.
This is the first day of my war, and my first steps has been to join this site, write this blog and contact an addiction psychologist.
Recent Comments