And another thing...

Here's the thing. I'm old. Not so old as to be elderly, but well into middle age. I mark my 48th year next January. By this time in my life I should have figured out what I want to be when I grow up, and should by damn be doing it.

Since graduating from college in 1986 I have wanted to go back to college. It wasn't a high priority in the 80s and 90s, and I did other things. Other things that for the most part I don't regret, exactly. Mostly. But now I'm doing the school thing again, and while I enjoy the academic scholarship, there are other aspects of college life that, well, I'm having trouble with. Refer to the second sentence there at the top of the post.

My classmates are, with few exceptions, 25 (or more) years younger than I am. Comparisons are odious. I catch the brunt of the odium in this comparison. And hells bells, a goodly number of my professors are younger than I am.

Let's review my reasons for going back to school.

1. I love the academic scholarship. check
2. I'm not doing much else, so why not do something I want to do? check
3. I am stuck in this backwater reservoir of bigotry and intolerance, trying to find a spark of intelligent camaraderie. not so much
4. This leads to further scholarship, upward and onward. eh, I can't see it from here

For the nonce, let's review #3. One of the plans was to meet people with whom I could have intelligent conversations, people who have something in common with me, get my jokes, can follow my logic. The problem I've encountered is my position as student. Maybe I'm not putting myself out there enough (a real possibility; I have introvert tendencies) but I've found no other students who will really engage with me. We don't have much in common, really.

The people who are closer to my age with similar cultural histories are the professors, but since I'm a student, it's inappropriate to get too close to them. It causes tricky ethical problems of dual relationships.* So once again I'm a social misfit.

Think I'll address #4 in a subsequent post.

* "Social workers enter into dual relationships when they engage in more than one relationship with a client, becoming social worker and friend, employer, teacher, business associate, or sex partner." Replace "social worker" with "instructor, professor, administrator, or staff" and "client" with "student" and there ya' go. It messes stuff up. Oh, and that "sex partner" bit? I don't see that happenin'. Ain't going there.

My thoughts about The Boy, and let me tell you what She did today

About Sproing and his shit: Now that I know what's going on and how to handle it, I'm not as upset. He is angry about being placed in the treatment center (among other things) and is taking it out on me. Me specifically right now, not so much his Dad. Don't know what that's about. I talked to his therapist Thursday morning about those hurtful things he said to me at visitation. She told me not to show that I'm upset by what he says, not in front of him. (As much as I'm able, anyway.) I can cry my eyes out once I get into the car. The issue is power and control. He's a manipulative little bastard, and we need to wrest control from him. When we're visiting, if he starts any of that shit, we need to tell him "Since you are treating us this way, we will leave now and you will go back to the unit." And do exactly that. It's a major inconvenience (a real pisser, actually) to drive for 1.5 hours, spend 5 minutes with him, then drive 1.5 hours back home. But we don't go to every visitation because sometimes things happen at home and we just can't make it. Next Wednesday we have family therapy for the hour before visitation, so we'll be there. Superman might visit him Sunday afternoon, but I'm staying home.

I have had a couple of days to process things, have gotten some information, advice, and encouragement (Thank you, my wonderful readers!), and I'm not nearly as upset as I was. Really, now that I better understand how this is a part of his mental disorder, I'm much more calm and emotionally detached. It's a good thing.

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I must tell you about my interactions with Diva this morning. First of all, before she left for school, she realized that she needed gym shorts so she could dress out for P.E. All her shorts were dirty, so 15 minutes before time to leave for the bus she started washing two pair of shorts in the kitchen sink, running hot and cold water full blast while Superman was trying to shower. Of course I turned off the water as soon as I saw it. I asked her (silly me) why she was washing the shorts now. They won't be washed, rinsed, and dry in 15 minutes. She gave me that "duh" look. I went on about my business but she just sat there in the kitchen staring at a her wet shorts. It's like I derailed her course of action and she couldn't pick it up again. It took me a few minutes to realize that she was still sitting there with nothing on but a towel. She did dress and catch the bus, but had nothing to wear for P.E. Tough shit. I've told her before that she needs to get all of her stuff together so it's ready to walk out the door before she goes to bed on school nights.

So an hour later she called me from school complaining of a stomach ache. I told her to use the bathroom and wait a while and she'd feel better. Half an hour later she calls back. I forget what I said to her then, though I think I recommended the bathroom again. She called a third time, but in the intervening minutes I had realized The Plan. It should have come to me sooner; it's so obvious. Tomorrow is Halloween, and what does she want to do? So the third time she called, I told her that if she really felt that sick, I would pick her up but she would have to go to bed, and of course would be too sick to go trick-or-treating tomorrow. You know, if you have the stomach bug you must not go out or eat any candy. Was she so sick that I should bring her home, or could she tough it out? Well, she said, "I think I can make it until lunch time." Oh, no, if I had to get her, she was staying home all weekend to fully recover. "I think I can stay all day." Mission accomplished!

She's a persistent little snot. She called at 1:00, and immediately assured me that her stomach felt much better, but... she needed cupcakes for a class party. Today. In 20 minutes. I so wanted to say "I'll squat down right here and shit out a couple dozen cupcakes for you. Be right there." If I didn't think she'd be using that example at every chance in the next few weeks, I would have said it. But I didn't. Suffice to say, she didn't get her cupcakes but she did get a mini-lecture on responsibility. Much like the lecture she received this morning about having her gym clothes and everything prepared before bed on a school night.

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I'll end with a Chris Rock quote I saw today.

I don't get high, but sometimes I wish I did. That way, when I messed up in life I would have an excuse. But right now there's no rehab for stupidity.

Fleeting thoughts through my fuzzy brain

Think. I used to be able to do it. Eh, the ability comes and goes. I suspect it will return eventually.

We went to visit the boy yesterday evening. Sproing, the one at the residential mental health place. Sproing, the one with a heavy case of Oppositional Defiant Disorder. He's a small boy, small for his almost-12 years who carries a huge burden. It's a burden he's not ready to release.

He resists treatment. He opposes pretty much everything. Right now he seems to be concentrating his opposition on his mother. Last evening's visit was painful. According to him, we still hate him. We have parties here to celebrate his absence. He hates us and never wants to be with us ever again.

This morning I called his therapist. She told me that he has talked about hurting me. Sometimes he wants to hit me (he hasn't), but mostly he just says hurtful things. She asked him if it would hurt me more if he hit me or said something hurtful. She said he couldn't keep the grin from his face, knowing what power he has with his words. And I'm not supposed to let him see that he succeeds in causing me pain. In some ways I felt better after talking to her. She had some helpful and minimally encouraging things to say, but I also felt defeated. I often feel that way when contemplating the boy.

I get to see my therapist tomorrow afternoon, barring any unforeseen eventualities. ("unforeseen eventualities" being another one of Grandmama's phrases) I confirmed the appointment today.

In today's "Dear Abby" column the letters were on the topic of parenting children with special needs, specifically autism. Much of what the parents said rang true. I hadn't considered it from this angle (too busy trying to dig out of the mire, I suppose) but OMG! I'm one of those parents! It wasn't initially obvious. None of my kids has anything visibly debilitating. Their disabilities unfolded bit by bit, sneaking up on me while I was trying to, as Patrick said to me, hold the ocean back with a broom.

Do we want to address the other big thing that's been bothering me recently? Now? On this post? Nah, I think I'll save it for a later post. This one is pretty full.

Value

I just looked on the school website. My research methods test grade is posted. I got a 91/100. Much better than the 72 on the first one. I have scored high on all the other little things we have turned in, but those aren't worth more than 10 points each. It adds up, of course. Anyway, my midterm grade is a B, and I'm mostly satisfied with that. I'm satisfied that I can bring it up if I apply myself. I don't know where in the B range my grade lies, but I suspect it's kinda low. A B is a B, no matter. I am not beating myself up over it, for sure.

We visited Sproing this afternoon. I got all dressed up in the most decent dress I have. It isn't all that nice, but it'll do. I need to get sewing. I've got a few projects I want to sew, but I have so much trouble making myself begin. So anyway, we saw the boy. He's sullen. He wouldn't cooperate or engage during the family therapy session. After the therapy session, from which he was excused because of his attitude, we had the regular Sunday afternoon visiting session. He perked up a little bit during that, but was generally sulky. He finally asked us to leave after he accused us of leaving him there forever because we hate him and he's going to run away and he hates us and we are horrible. Eh. Whatever. He insists he's ready to come home, then he says stuff like that. He hates it there and wants to come home now. He won't do what needs to be done until he realizes he's not going to come home next week. I'm glad he's there and they're dealing with it. I'll continue to write letters and visit when we can. Otherwise, I dunno.

I have been a bit better this week about studying. It isn't overwhelming right now, and I'm trying to go over the notes from each class at the end of the day. I've started making note cards for studying. If I continue to do this, by the time the biggie tests come around I'll already be ahead of the game. I like this. I hope I can keep it up.

I was stood up twice on Friday. The only have one class Friday; class starts at 10:20. The professor never showed up. So by 10:30 we were all out of there. One of the other girls in the class went to his office and confirmed that he wasn't on campus. OK, so I went home. Diva was home because the schools had a teacher work day Friday. I was very tired and sore, so I lay down for a nap.

At 2:00 in the afternoon I had an appointment with my therapist. I show up, she's not there. She took the day off and I didn't get the memo. It's a good thing I like her so much, or I'd be pissed. I'm not. She's the boss of that office, with a handful of other counselors to supervise. The office assistant (used to be called secretary, but we can't use that word anymore or our tongues will fall out) quit to go back to school, which is all very good and my therapist approves. However, they haven't found anyone to fill the position, and most of the work falls on The Boss, of course. So I'm gonna cut her some slack. She cuts me slack allatimes.

More ups and down this week. Weird, kinda. I feel fine, then I feel like there's no use trying anymore. Then I'm OK. The manner of women attacked me Friday, so that's a possible contributing factor. The ride is, if nothing else, interesting. We shall see what this week brings.

Ups and downs

Mostly ups right now.

I took the biggie exam in my research methods class. It was satisfactorily challenging, and by golly I was prepared for the challenge! Yep, I actually studied this time. There were a few things I didn't know, but only a few. I feel very confident about it. This is our second exam in this class. I scored 72% on the first one. (Ouch!)

This week I received the results of the two mid-term exams I took last week. It looks good, y'all, real good. On the theater exam I only missed half of one point. I'm pleased with that.

Amazing how something positive like good grades can boost my morale.

I turned off my computer on Tuesday afternoon and didn't turn it back on until half an hour ago. I knew that if I logged on even to check email I would get sucked in and wouldn't study as I needed to. So I'm now a teeny bit behind on some blogs and emails. Be patient, my dears.

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I heard from the therapist at Sproing's location. (What should I call the place? Funny farm? Mental health facility is too long and clunky.) The state mental health agency sent a representative yesterday to assess the child. They did a Cal-locus? Anybody know what that is?* Anyhow, he was assessed at a level 6 (whatever that is) which means that he officially qualifies to be admitted for inpatient treatment. This is particularly good from a financial perspective. Good ol' socialized medicine (Medicaid) will take over from here because the state mental health agency will officially admit him to the facility where he's already admitted. I know, red tape. But it's good news.

Sproing still seems to be under the impression that he'll be getting out in a couple of weeks. Nah, it will be more like three months. Or maybe two months now, since he's already been incarcerated for a month. He spent the first 10 days in the acute care hospital, and has been at his current location for just over two weeks. He might be able to come home in 2.5 months if he does the work he needs to do. So far he hasn't done much progressive work. We shall see. At any rate, the news about the boy is generally good.

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The news about the damned washing machine, however, is not so good. It's acting really funky now. Superman has the whole broken door latch thing in the bag now. He has ordered some extra parts so that when it breaks, he can fix it. He also duck-taped a tie-down strap to the machine. We have to cinch the door closed whenever we run the damned thing. That helps prevent the latch from breaking.

But this week it did a weird failure-to-complete-the-cycle thing. It wouldn't drain and spin unless I turned the machine off, then back on, then set it to the "drain and spin" setting. WTF? I'm ready to boot the thing to the curb. He says he's gonna work on it this evening to see what he can do to it. I'm gonna stay out of the way, 'cause damn.

*OK, just googled cal-locus and came up with CALOCUS. Now I know what to search for.

*sigh*

If I knew what to write, I'd have posted before.

I was dismally depressed late lasts week, and although I thought about dragging you through the mire of that depression, I couldn't quite get my thoughts clear enough to write anything. So I chose the better part of valor and didn't.

The depression has lifted, mostly, at least for now. Two sunny days have helped, but I actually enjoyed the dark rainy of last week, even though I was depressed. If that makes sense, and I don't think it does.

Sproing seems to be settling in well at the treatment facility. I'm not sure about his progress, or really much of anything. I talked to him yesterday, and Superman and Diva went to visit. I stayed home to study.

Manny (the pickup truck) isn't working. Again. Superman left the headlights on last week and ran the battery down. We jumped it off, and I was able to drive it home from the parking lot at his workplace, but when I tried to start it this morning there wasn't enough juice to start him up.

I have a big test, a really scary monster, on Thursday. I haven't been studying like I should. That can be said for most of my semester, actually. What happened?

I dunno, maybe I'm in the doldrums. It's mid-term now. Life is in a delicate holding pattern. The days are getting shorter. We finally had a cool day yesterday. The temperature dropped to just above freezing last night, though this afternoon was very warm in the sun. The breeze was nice, but without a breeze things were warm. Kinda nice, really, and dry instead of humid. But the sun hurts my eyes.

What, do I have to complain about everything?? Sheesh. OK, remember when I said the depression has lifted? I spoke too soon. Or perhaps I should just not think about it. Too much navel-gazing is bad for the soul.

Never mind. Pretend like you didn't read this drivel. Go for a drive through the blogosphere and find something fun.

Random stuff

In which we update you on Sproing's little adventure: What is today, anyway? Thursday? Hell, I need a drink. 'Twas last Wednesday, yes, just over a week ago that Superman took Sproing from the acute care mental hospital to the next in what I fear will be a series of mental/behavioral health facilities. What have I told you so far? I'll just back up to that point. Father and son had a lovely time driving to the new place. Sproing was calm, pleasant, and his charming old self. He was subdued about getting checked in there, and Superman left right after he'd done his part. His part involved signing lots of papers promising them the moon, as far as I know.

For the first couple of days the boy was dull and lethargic. The first hospital had him so drugged up that he slept most of the time. This place is weaning him off those meds. Last time I spoke with the therapist, she said he had one or two more days on the last of the medications, then he would be completely unmedicated. I'm glad he's there with them. So far he's been mostly easy-going, though he still thinks we are bringing him home soon. I suspect that once he realizes that he'll be there for quite a few weeks, he may act out. The therapist there says he should stay at least three months, possibly six. It depends largely on him, and how willing he is to do the work that must be done.

Superman and I went up on Monday evening of this week for a family counseling session. We got to see him, of course, and he was all snuggly. It was nice. But he was unusually quiet. This is not like him. I'm not sure what's going on. Superman will be there next Tuesday morning for another session and a conference with Sproing's treatment team.

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In other news, Diva is doing very well without her brother here. She loves the individual attention. She's being particularly flighty, though. She didn't go out to wait for the school bus this morning because her daddy didn't tell her to go. She progresses at a snail's pace with any task, no matter how much she wants to do it. There are probably some things we could and should do to help motivate her, to help her take responsibility for herself. I'm so damned tired of it all, though. Of course it won't get better if we don't act, so Superman and I will have to get a program of behavior modification or something worked out for her soon. Maybe this weekend we can spend a couple of hours hashing that out.

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I've got two days off from school. It's our Fall break. I never had a Fall break back in the day, and I don't know what this is supposed to be, but I am not complaining! For me this is a chance to get caught up on some work for my research methods class. There is a lot to do. I had three tests this week, thankfully on three different days. I talked to a girl in my Theatre and Film class who had three midterms on Tuesday. She looked pretty bad.

So I took the Theatre and Film midterm. I studied diligently for that sucker, to good measure! By the time I sat down to take the exam, I knew what I needed to know. I wrote on that thing for the entire 1.5 hours of class. It was almost entirely short-answer format. Anyone reading this blog for more than a couple of weeks will know that "short" is not something I do. There's so much to say! The first half of the semester covered theatre (theater - how is that word supposed to be spelled? What am I supposed to do with the "e" and the "r" at the end?) and next week we'll start on film studies. It promises to be interesting.

I did not do well on the test I took Monday. I studied, but he asked stuff that I didn't know well enough. Tuesday was the Theatre exam, which I blew out of the water, and yesterday I took the Abnormal Psych exam. I was nervous about that one. Yes, I studied, and I was very confident on a few things. I never know how much detail this professor will ask for. That's what snookered me on Monday's test. (I have the same prof for two classes). I knew general information about the topic, but he got annoyingly specific on the test. But for Wednesday's class, the test wasn't quite as specific. It also covered more stuff than Monday's test did, so I guess he had a chance to get more picky. Anyway, I was better prepared for the Abnormal test than I feared, so that was good.

There's the research work I need to do. There's a big test next Thursday, our second one. I made a low C on the first test. That nearly killed me. I have a better grasp on this stuff now, I think, but I need to do a lot of studying, reading, research, writing, etc.

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It rained all day yesterday, and the temperatures are down to where they should be this time of year. Perhaps a little lower than average, maybe to make up for the unseasonable warmth for earlier? Anyway, yesterday was cool and drizzly all day long. I love this weather! I most wanted to curl up in the bed and nap, but instead I did those things that needed to be done. Today I'm at home with some opportunity to do that nap thing. I lazed around for a couple of hours this morning, but now am trying to accomplish a few things. Laundry for one. Gad, I hate doing laundry. However, it's much easier now that the washer works and I don't need to haul everything to the laundromat. For that I am thankful.

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We have applied, on behalf of Diva, to a state agency that helps emotionally disturbed children. We have the forms for Sproing's application, too, that need to be completed before tomorrow. Tomorrow morning an agent from this program is coming to do a home visit. I think I'm in denial about it somehow. I'm afraid of my house. I'm afraid for her to see my house. If I were a healthy person I would spend today cleaning. However, I'm too retarded for that right now. I can't work on that. I'll do laundry instead. And maybe some paperwork. And maybe take a nap (which is my most ardent desire right now).

OK, feeling somewhat guilty about that attitude, I just made two important calls to get information about Diva's treatment dates. We need to know that stuff for tomorrow's interview.

Next order of business is to make a list of what exactly I need to do for the research class this weekend. I'm not going to actually do any of it right now, but I'll get it queued up and ready to roll. Then I'll iterate laundry, take my anti-anxiety pill, and have a nap.

National Coming Out Day

Hello. My nom de blog is Java, and I am a heterosexual with homosexual sympathies.

My primary reasons for blogging are to make contact with the larger gay community, to develop friendships with others who are homosexual or allies, and to become better informed about homosexuality in general. My goal, the "what I want to do when I grow up" thing, is to assist those in the glbt community with adjustment problems, coming out, etc. I'm kinda vague about details, which is one of the reasons I am hanging around the blogosphere with the fabulous gays, so I can learn more about the whole phenomenon.

Recently this space has been filled with content about my family, particularly the younger children with severe emotional/mental disabilities. This blog is about my life, or something like it, and my life right now is concentrated on the kids and my college experience. There hasn't been as much "gay" here as I like, but it is what it is. There hasn't been as much "gay" in my life as I like to have, either, dammit.

And speaking of college, I need to study. With that I bid you adieu.

A day in the life

see more Lolcats and funny pictures

Change the fur color to "basement cat," the floor tile to off-white hexagons, and the wall covering to badly outdated wallpaper and that's our house.

The news

... isn't all that new anymore, but since I haven't updated in a few days, it's new to you.

When last we saw our heroine she was awaiting the transfer of the Sproing from the mental hospital to the next-step care facility. He was supposed to be transfered Tuesday, but had another -what is it called? - emotional explosion where he was screaming and flailing and throwing himself against the walls. The hospital staff sedated him and that was that for Tuesday.

Wednesday morning Superman called the hospital to check on the boy. He was dressed and in his right mind. So Superman toodled on down there and retrieved the boy. I gotta tell ya', I was uneasy about the whole thing. That child is not stable. (understatement alert) Would he and his dad have a wonderful bonding experience, pleasantly passing the time chatting and laughing? Or would the boy have another emotional breakdown in the back seat, and attempt to throw himself from the speeding vehicle to his gnarly death? Either was a possibility. I was not able to accompany them on this trip, as I had a couple of very important classes to attend.

Thankfully, the fellows had a wonderful trip. Sproing was gleeful about leaving the hospital, and was not terribly upset about having to go to another facility instead of coming home. (He'd been through that upset phase when I told him last week that he would not be coming right home after leaving the hospital.) They got him settled into the new place, and Sproing only expressed anxiety right before they arrived.

On Thursday I talked to the woman in charge of therapy on the children's ward. I asked how he was doing, and she told me he was sleeping. It is NOT like the boy to sleep during the day. Hell, it isn't like the boy to sleep much at all. Then I learned that he was on a couple of heavy-duty medications that he'd been given at the hospital. Ah, that explains it. The therapist (Julie) asked if it was OK to take him off the meds. Sure, honey. Do what you need to. Go ahead and find out what he's really like.

Julie talked to Superman on Thursday. Superman asked about the boy. Julie had a different tale to relate. Superman tells me; "She said he was being very very oppositional." YES!! I am vindicated! Show 'em what you got, boy!

I got the impression that Julie didn't really fully believe me when I told her about his behavior. I discussed this with my wonderful therapist Friday. These people don't know me. To them, I am just another overwhelmed parent the likes of which they see every day. Much of their experience with overwhelmed parents involves people who don't necessarily understand the ins and outs of Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder or Oppositional Defiant Disorder. Whatever. So when Julie talked to Superman, she seemed surprised at Sproing's level of enthusiasm.

It's good, though, that they took him off all his medication. They really need to get a baseline of his behavior so they know what they're dealing with before they can make a good plan to treat him. I'm sure they will add medication again, probably soon. This is necessary, though, because he's had such deficient medication management for the past few years. (maybe ever)

The only visiting days at that place are Wednesday and Sunday. We can't even call to talk to him except Wednesday and Sunday. I do wish we had a chance to at least talk to him more often, though I understand the need for the restriction. In unhealthy family relationships, contact with the family triggers difficult behavior. Though I like to think we are "good parents," the fact remains that with the two younger kidlets we have, things have turned in an unhealthy direction. That's one of the reasons the boy is where he is. (The girl needs some kind of placement, too, though I don't think she necessarily needs an acute care hospital setting like he was in.)

Superman and I will attend a family counseling session there at the place on Monday evening. Since this place is an hour and a half north of here (whereas the hospital was 1.5 hours SE of here), we will only call the boy Sunday, since we'll be seeing him Monday.

That's about it for now. Midterm is next week, and I have three exams; one Monday, one Tuesday, and one Wednesday. Study time!!

Also, my "g" key is acting wonky again. Thank goodness for spell-check.

Levity or Monstrosity?

Rainbow pride gone terribly, horribly wrong.

From Picture is Unrelated

Meh

It's a down day. I'm tired, can't concentrate, nothing is fun. The tank is running low.

Is the boy stuck in reverse??

Sproing will not be transfered to the other facility today. Superman got a call first thing this morning. The boy is currently sedated (evidently it worked this time) because, as Superman told me, "he went batshit crazy." I don't think that was the exact term the nurse used, but it is a good translation.

They cannot release him because he is currently a danger to himself. He was throwing himself against the wall again. I'm glad they aren't going to give him to Superman today, really, under these circumstances. No one else is going with him today, and if Sproing had one of these almighty tantrums in the car driving down the interstate at 65 mph, what could Superman do? It's dangerous.

Actually, I'm afraid for him to leave there. His behavior has been consistently erratic, if that makes sense, and who's to say that if he had two good days in a row that he wouldn't loose his shit on the third day while in our car?

Time for me to go to class now. Perhaps I can concentrate on research observation techniques and not worry about the boy. Let's find out.

One step forward and two steps back

The boy. Oy. He had a really great day Sunday. Superman visited him (I stayed home with Diva) and the whole visit was smooth, friendly, not a discouraging word was heard.

But this evening we got a call from the nurse saying that he lost his cool this afternoon. He was being verbally, then physically abusive to the staff. He threatened (or maybe actually tried - I'm not sure) to throw a chair through the window. He was banging his head against the walls again. They put him in the observation room for a while, and when he didn't calm himself down they gave him a sedative pill. He stayed in the observation room for another half hour, but did not sedate. It's like the sedative didn't work at all.

The unit nurse called us, talked to Superman at 6:30-ish. He was still in the observation room, not being calm. I called back about an hour later because I had questions for the nurse. All the nurses were busy, so I talked to one of the aides. He's a big guy named Leonard. Pretty tall, very broad, and very black. It's nice to have that kind of presence on a mental ward. Nice guy, too. Anyway, I got to talk to Sproing. He had calmed down enough to come out of isolation/observation, though Leonard said he was still being disrespectful.

So I talked to him. He sounded great. We had a very nice conversation. I told him that he'll be leaving there tomorrow. He was very excited about that.

The insurance company has approved his stay at the hospital there until tomorrow, so he'll transfer to a longer-term facility. Superman was on the phone for an hour or more this afternoon trying to get that arranged. Of the facilities we know about from info received from that hospital, only the one in North Charleston has an opening for him. North Charleston is really far from here! Superman made some more inquiries (mainly from the insurance company, I think) and he found out about a place that's a few miles north of Greenville. That's much closer to us. By the time he got that information, though, the people he needed to talk to at the current hospital had left for the day. First thing tomorrow he will make more calls. The boy might go to Charleston, or he might go to Greenville. Wherever he goes, he goes tomorrow. Superman is all anxious again.

I will be in school all day tomorrow and won't be able to go with him. I HOPE Sproing keeps his shit together for the trip.

So I talked to the boy this evening. I asked about his rough afternoon. But when I told him that he will leave there tomorrow he started talking about "being good." He says he'll be good so he can leave the hospital. So why was he so disruptive and violent today? Well, he tells me that he can decide to behave. Today he didn't want to. I totally believe him. I've seen him turn that kind of attitude around in 30 seconds when he is adequately motivated. The motivation is inconsistent, though. What works one day doesn't work another day.

I wonder if the good folks at the hospital can give the boy a sedative before he and Superman take off for the next place.

Light and I saw Sproing on Saturday. That's the day I picked up Light, dropped Twitch off at his school, then took Light down to Columbia to see the boy. We had a pretty good visit with Sproing for the first 10 minutes. He was talking about his plans for when he got out of the hospital. He planned to come home, stay home all day and play his P-ess-P and watch TV. Here at home, alone, unsupervised while his dad and I were out doing our daily things. Uh-uh. So I had to disabuse him of that notion. He didn't take it well. The visit deteriorated quickly. He got huffy and left the room.

What does it all mean? Is he making any improvements? Do the professionals even have a definitive diagnosis? Do they know what they're dealing with, exactly? Or even vaguely? The plan was for this hospital to stabilize him, then he'd move to another facility where he can stay for a longer time. How long? I've heard 3-6 months. Frankly, I think he needs a longer stay, but who really knows? Maybe after a few months he will move to yet another place for a more moderate level of management. He needs intensive management right now. Duh. 24/7 supervision for sure.

In other non-Sproing related news, I took my Monday quiz today in Psychotherapies class. I actually studied for this one! I mean like really, for more than just the two hours before class. I actually knew the answers and everything! It was great. I should have started studying a few days earlier than I actually did. Today I felt so good about the whole study-and-know-the-information thing that I started studying for next week's quiz today! I'm thrilled. I made note cards from today's lecture, then went back and made up a bunch of study note cards for the other class I had today. There's a test in that class next week, and I got started on it today. I feel so much like a student today! This is the groove I like to be in, the one that's been eluding me since the start of the semester. I still have a hideous amount of work to do in the other two classes, and I'm afraid to look at those now. But I will.

Last night I finished the play- and character- analyses that were due last Tuesday in my Theater class. I talked to the instructor last week, explained how my life was falling down around me, and asked for an extension on that assignment. She told me to take all the time I needed. Nice, and I appreciate it, but that was a tiny bit too much leeway. I work well with deadlines. (usually) I really could have had the assignment completed by last Thursday, but since the pressure wasn't on to get it done, I dawdled more than I should have. But I did finish it last night and took it to her office this morning. So it's done. Good for me.

We're going to try for a reasonable bedtime tonight. With that in mind, I'll leave you with this.

In the continuing saga...

Superman and I made the trip to Columbia again today, this time to meet with the counselor who works on the adolescent ward. They call this a "family meeting." First we talked with her, then Sproing joined us. His participation in the meeting was a somewhat milder rehash of yesterday's visit. He wasn't very cooperative. Neither of us expected anything different.

When Sproing was in the meeting, the counselor had all of us talk about some specific things we want to focus on. Of course Sproing wants to come home. So what do we need to address for that to happen? I told her that I want the boy to tell me the truth about things, rather than the near-constant lying which is his habit. I also want him to listen to me, to accept that I mean it when I tell him I love him and think he's smart and handsome. He doesn't have to agree with me about it, but he should not accuse me of lying when I say those things.

If he had anything to add to that list, I don't remember. He sat scrunched down in a chair on the other side of the room, hands folded across his chest and his forehead wrinkled in a combination of pout and frown. After a few minutes he turned his back to us and leaned against the door. The counselor invited him to leave when he refused to respond anymore.

The child had another "episode" this morning and had to be sedated. This time, however, he didn't fight the sedation. The episode involved him trying to pick on another child. There was some mutual aggravation, as I understand it. His response was inappropriate.

The counselor said that he is beginning to show his problem behavior. He's been generally nice most of the week, but as the honeymoon wears off, he's displaying the actions and attitudes for which he was put there to begin with. The staff needs to see him in all his confounding glory in order to know how to help him. They recognized the Oppositional Defiant Disorder pretty early.

All in all it was a very good meeting. Superman and I are both encouraged that the boy is acting out there the way he does here. We are vindicated!! We are affirmed! It isn't all in our imaginations. The really great thing is that these folks at the hospital are not shocked or surprised by his behavior. They've seen this kind of thing before. They know how to handle it. They know what to do! Well, I think they do. They're still assessing him. He has already been given some different medications, and I know that is one of the things he needed. He also needs a lot of behavioral and/or talk therapy.

He will only stay in this hospital for a week to ten days. None of us (except Sproing) think he'll be ready to come home after that. The counselor told us about three places in the state that provide the next level of care. It's longer-term, from three to six months, and has the high level of management that he needs. One of the things they mean by "high management" is 24/7 surveillance. He needs this in part because he is suicidal. Did I mention that he's been banging his head against the walls there in an attempt to kill himself? That's one of the behaviors for which they sedate him. He may or may not be over that in the next week. We shall see.

Superman feels much better today. Thank you all for your thoughts/prayers/encouragement. He is more hopeful than he's been in a very long time that our dear young son is now being adequately treated for his mental/emotional problems. And by extension, we receive treatment of sorts. Validation is excellent therapy!

I have a bunch of studying that I should do. There are a couple of assignments that need attention. It's 8:00 on this Friday night, and I'm exhausted. Tomorrow will be a busy day. I'm going to bed now.

Question:

VIP is popularly known as an acronym for Very Important Person. I've seen some variations of that, (e.g. Very Important Presbyterians) but the general impression is the same.

What else might VIP stand for?

Very Impressive Package

Vienna's Indecent Parade

Help me out here. I'm not good at this sort of thing.

And the beat goes on

We had Chinese take-out the other night. The fortune in my fortune cookie says "You are a happy man." You can imagine how thrilled I am to know this. Really, it's very reassuring.

Sproing entered the in-patient mental health facility on Monday evening. This place only allows visits on Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday evening from 6:00 until 7:30, and we can call him between 6:30 and 8:00 on the evenings that aren't open for visitation. So Tuesday I called him. He was asleep, having been sedated after losing his metaphorical shit. I called him Wednesday evening. We spoke for a short while until he got mad at me because I wouldn't take his PSP gaming device to him. He hung up on me.

This evening Superman and I drove the 70 miles to visit him. He gave us each a hug, and sat in his Daddy's lap for a while. The conversation proceeded in a downward spiral.

him: I want to go home.

us: We want you to come home, too, but we need you to get well, to be able to get along with others before you can come home.

him: I will be good. I won't get in fights, I won't vandalize property, and I won't steal things anymore.

us: That's what you always say, and we think you believe it, but we know that you need to get more help here before you are able to really do that.

him: I want to go home and play my game and pet Scheherazade.

us: And we will be glad when you are well enough to come home, but you aren't yet.

him: No you don't. You don't care anything about me. You are happy I'm gone.

us: We love you very much, and you are here to get help. This is not about punishment. You are here to get help controlling your emotions.

him: You don't love me. If you loved me you'd take me home. When can I go home?

us: We will talk to the doctor about when you might be able to go home.

him: No you won't. She will just say no, anyway. I don't care. I don't want to live with you anyway. You hate me. You think I'm ugly and stupid. You wasted your time coming here to see me.

us: We are glad we came. We want to see you, and are glad we get to see you.

him: No you're not. If you loved me you'd take me home.

us: We will take you home when you are well enough to go home.

him: I'm ready to go home now.

us: We will talk to the doctor about when you can leave this place.

him: No you won't. You celebrate because I am gone. You hate me. I'm stupid. You wasted your time coming to see me. I wish you would just go away.

et cetera

This is pretty much what I expected. It really was good to see him, though it was hard seeing the tears running down his cheeks. I know that if he came home now, things would not be better, and they could possibly be worse. We really don't know what to say to him.

Tomorrow afternoon we will be back at the hospital for a family meeting. We meet with someone on his treatment team. I'm not quite sure what she does. Is she one of the therapist/counselors? I don't know, but Superman and I will meet with her, and Sproing might be with us, too. I hope we can get some kind of clue about how to communicate with him. Right now we just argue in circles with him.

Y'all, Superman is having a really hard time with this. He is an engineer; very analytical, likes clear answers. He typically has an upbeat attitude. Right now he's depressed and overwhelmed. Of course that's a normal reaction, but these feelings are so foreign to him, and he's frustrated. I, on the other hand, am quite familiar with overwhelming depression. And right now I feel pretty positive. Sproing is finally getting the kind of medical/psychological attention he needs. We are getting help! So this time I'm the strong(er) one, and he's all kinds of vulnerable. Keep him in your thoughts and prayers, please.

The weekend is shaping up to be quite busy. Twitch goes back to school on Saturday. While Superman is at home with Diva, I'm taking Twitch, and we'll be swinging by Light's college to pick her up on the way. We'll drop off Twitch at his place, then head down to Columbia to see the poor little confined one. When he rejects us and sends us away, Light and I will continue back home. I mapped the route: 300 miles round trip. It's a good thing I like to drive.

I may not post for a few days, but I don't forget about you. I shall return.