I'm just going to say what I'm not supposed to say. I dislike my step-son.

Let me back up and explain. When I started dating my husband, I knew he was a widower with a teenager. I have an auto immune disease and bi polar disorder. I didn't have children of my own because of various reasons: not the best genetic material, it would be painful, I would have to go off all medication, basically I just missed my window.

But I like kids and I thought I knew what I was signing up for. I was wrong.

I did like my SS right away. He's not a bad kid, really. But something went horribly wrong when he started high school. He had trouble making his grades. He couldn't make friends. He snuck out of the house to go to a girls. Things became very messy.

Unfortunately, in my previous incarnations as student, supervisor, office manager and now as writer, communication is key to my existence. My husband's idea of communication consists mostly of leading his son to water and then throwing him in the lake if he won't drink. I talk things through calmly.

And this has made me a target for my SS's attention. I listen to him. So he tells me things he would never tell his dad. And due to my husband's rotating shifts, I spend a lot of time alone with my SS. Throughout our talks, it's pretty clear that he's never resolved his mom's death within himself. He is severely depressed and sometimes suicidal. Yet when I try to help him, it's like talking to a brick wall. He can pontificate for hours on why I'm wrong. And okay, yeah, teenagers do that. When I try to tell my husband about what SS tells me, he acts like I have some sort of grudge against his son.

That's not true. Would I have raised him differently? Damn straight! But it's too late for that. I'm trying to play with the hand I was dealt. But it has gotten to the point where I make up excuses to hide from my SS. I knew my husband had a kid. I have a wonderful step-mom, so I know the job requirements. But I didn't sign up to me some crazy mixture of therapist, babysitter, tattletale. And I hate that the two men who should be most important to me have shoved me into this role and I resent it.

I try so hard to remain calm. But it's ridiculous to the point of absurdity how stigmatizing they both see counseling as. I wouldn't have made it this far without my therapist. My SS needs to talk to someone. My husband needs to wake up to the fact that his son needs help. They both need to realize that you don't dump all your problems on someone with a mental illness and expect them to just handle everyone's problems. I honestly don't know how much longer I can pretend that none of this is just tearing up my mind.

I don't want to dislike my SS, I want him to get the help he needs. And call me selfish, but I want to get out of the middle. This is most definitely not what I signed up for. At what point do I say you have to work to resolve your own problems just like I have to with mine?