Worries
2004-09-02 at 1:04 p.m.
Finally, diaryland is allowing me to update. When servers are busy, only the elite, gold-card carrying members of diaryland are able to update. I'll be a member of that group again tomorrow, on payday.
Yesterday, I was reassured that maybe E isn't doing so badly after all. M and S went to the boys' school and had lunch with E. (Family members are encouraged to do this occasionally) Afterwards, they called to say how impressed they were with the school, the faculty and E's paras. S said that they all had wonderful things to say about E and that they thought he was doing beautifully.
*Breaths sigh of relief*
To date, we haven't had any further disturbances on the bus. I'm seasoned enough as the mother of a mentally ill child to know that this is far from over. It's only a matter of time before he's banished from the regular bus and is ordered to ride "the short bus" to and from school. I know that. I'm ready. But for now, I'll take whatever good news I can get.
The boys continue to embarrass me at the bus stop in the mornings. I've decided to watch for the bus from my porch and take them to the stop as I see the bus approaching. I'm sick of them running into people's landscaping, thowing rocks, backtalking me and fighting with each other. Is it too much to ask that they stand still and shut up for five minutes, until the goddamn bus comes?
I'm thinking alot about E and his future. I'm scared. I think of all the ways in which things will get worse for us. When he gets upset and rages, how long will it be before he decides to leave the house and inflict his rage on others? For now, he's content to stay in the house and heap it all upon me and my belongings. How long will it be before he hurts me? I mean, really, truly hurts me. I'm not talking split lips or bruised arms, I'm talking closed head injuries.
I thought about it this morning and had a good cry. I guess I feel better. I wish I had a crystal ball and could see into the future. If I could, all of this would be worth it. I wish I knew that E would grow up normally, finish school, go onto to college or at the very least, a good job at which he's happy, successful and content. I wish I could see that he'll be self-sufficient and at peace with himself and his decisions. I hope that he never gets mixed up with drugs, alcohol or gets in trouble with the law. I fear that he'll grow up angry, bitter and hateful. I fear he'll close himself off from people, or worse - hurt people. I fear he'll live destructively.
I just wish I knew he'd be okay.
I'm crying again, dammit.
That isn't what I came here to write. I came here to say that I'm changing the decor in my master bedroom. I wanted to write about the new neighbor who invited me shopping yesterday. I meant to write all about the A+ E got on his spelling test.
But for some reason, all I can write is how scared I am for E. I love that child so much, it hurts. I miss him when he's gone and long to hold him in my arms, smell his sweet warm skin and make time stand still.
Why do I have such a bad feeling all of a sudden? Is something bad going to happen to him? Or is this a sign that my fears are justified?