Hope
2004-07-30 at 10:14 p.m.
Another in a long line of bad days here. I don't know why I expect any day to be any better than the day before. It's the same thing, day after day. Today was one of the worst days ever with E.
I keep making excuses for him. "He's bored... " I tell people. "After school starts, things will calm down"
Who am I kidding? When school starts, things will go from bad to worse. The only difference will be it'll be the school's problem from 8 to 4. No, I'm not one of those parents who expects the school system to raise her children. But I pay my taxes and frankly, I need a break from being this child's sole care-giver. I hope and pray that his transition to a new school will be a smooth one for him, but after today... and I know how horrible this sounds, but...
I just want him away from me. I love him like no mother has ever loved a child, but I need a break. Here's how today went. It was like any other damn day around here, but with a twist at the end. E got up around 8:00am, came down for his meds without incident, then went up to his room for awhile. It was a pleasant morning, until he came back downstairs.
He was sweet for a total of ten minutes, before all hell started breaking loose. After that, he was wild. He was in that silly "Beav!s" type mood, where all he wants to do is goof off. This, in and of itself isn't "bad" necessarily, but it always spells the beginning of trouble. I ask him to please calm down. He talks back to me. J, wanting acceptance from his older brother, joins in. He too acts silly and mocks me. Next thing I know, I have three kids running, jumping, screaming, throwing toys and laughing maniacally through the house.
When they get out of control like this, they break toys, knock pictures off of walls, turn furniture on its end and nick holes in the drywall. Today, they put notches in my solid wood staircase spindles. I offer stern warnings that I won't tolerate this kind of behavior. Soon, I'm taking toys away, left and right. It only makes them more crazy. They continue laughing, screaming and behaving inappropriately. Every game they play involves violence and profanity. Action figures pretend to pee on each other or sniff each other's butts. It's absolutely ridiculous.
I tell myself to ignore it, but I can't. It's too much. It's over the line. I issue ultimatums that go ignored.
I then tell E that because he can't calm down on his own, he needs to come into the kitchen so I can give him more meds. He sees this as punishment and resists.
This begins the rage process. I insist, threatening punishment if he declines again. To make a long story short, 45 minutes later, E loses his TV for 24 hours, a brand new book he saved his money to buy and all his Tech Deck Dudes. He was nasty and confrontational the rest of the day. I had to force his meds down his throat, then lift all 78 pounds of him upstairs to try to restrain him until his meds take effect. I was lying down on my bed, holding his arms and I had my legs wrapped around him - kind of a "tight hug" type of hold. I guess he felt trapped, so he fought back with the only weapon he had: his head of steel.
I instantly let go of him and cried... hard. It hurt like nothing I've felt in a long time. I think alot of the pain was psychological. To know that my own son did this to me out of anger, juat breaks my heart. I know it's his illness, not him. But still...
He apologized, but didn't miss the opportunity to soon leave the room, which was really all he wanted in the first place. I just lay there and cried. J and G came in to comfort me. They hugged me and talked softly to me. J brought me the Wiggles dolls to cheer me up. *Chuckles to remember*
I never asked for this. I just wanted some kids to raise. I didn't ask for a basket case. What did I ever do to deserve it? Don't tell me "God" sought me out because I was "special" enough to raise a child like this. I tried to convince myself that for many years. Days like this, however, I look upon it as a punishment - not a gift or an honor. It and it alone, is what makes me doubt the existance of "God". Is this the work of a higher being? A child so filled with hatred and contempt that he harms the person who gave him life? Terrorists are walking free, but my son and I are living a life sentence. This is the work of God??
I love E with every fiber of my being and nothing will ever change that, not even his shabby, abusive treatment of me. But I just don't think I have the strength anymore. Emotionally, physically and psychologically, I'm spent. I feel atrophy setting in, like I'm dying. I don't feel like a person.
Days like today, I question my worth, my value and my importance as a person. I'm a machine and a failing one, at that. I often wonder if life, my children and the world would be better off without me. I fail to see what I am to people.
I feel so inconsequential. I feel like I could quietly back myself out of the room of life and no one would notice until they ran out of clean underwear or realized I hadn't emailed in awhile.
My diary is the only place I can talk this way. My mother would tell me to snap out of it and stop making her feel bad.
K would say, "What about ME? How do you think I feel? I'm overlooked and underpaid and I blah blah blah blah blah... "
My friends have problems of their own and don't want to hear anymore about mentally ill children, bad marriages and financial ruin.
I know this is getting long and probably not making much sense. I'll end it now. Thanks for the shoulder. I won't say tomorrow is going to better because it won't be. I'll settle for not getting another black eye.
It's all I can do.