I'm surviving

OK, so I had a bad weekend. I don't know that things have gotten better, necessarily, but I'm handling it better. One of the problems I had last week was a severe lack of sleep. Have I slept better this week? Well, not necessarily, but when the shit has hit the fan, it's been a relatively small amount of shit and I've had sufficient sleep at that time.

Last night Sproing was being a little shit. He argues about everything. We cannot have a simple discussion without him turning it into an argument. I was in the kitchen cooking dinner, Superman was also there helping me and just being close (he's such a sweetheart!) and Sproing was arguing like a madman. It would have been funny if I hadn't been the target of his anger. I stuck it out, got a few hugs from Superman, and carried on. Maybe I'm partially detached from the whole shebang. That's how I survive. Some days it works, some days not so much. I got through it without any pharmaceutical or alcoholic assistance.

So I downloaded an interesting little book for my Kindle yesterday entitled How to Drive Your Family Crazy for Fun and Profit. It was one of the free books offered yesterday. I read it in half an hour or so. The author has some good things to say, much of it she learned from Al-Anon. She applies most of this to her siblings. I of course considered how I could apply the concepts to these teenage hangers-on, and the applications, though limited, are available. When I was reading the book I thought of you, Rox. I recommend it specifically for you. Her family reminded me of your descriptions of your extended family.

Returning to the subject of sleep: my sleep patterns are acting kinda menopausal. Most of this week I wake up around 3:30, give or take half an hour, and I'm HOT. Especially my feet. The soles of my feet get really hot sometimes. I can't get back to sleep while it's still dark, but get irresistibly sleepy around 8 or 9. Had some caffeine this morning (a little bit) so managed to avoid the morning nap, but got the runs instead. That'll keep me awake!

I also seem to be making my monthly quota of Facebork postings today. Usually I scan, "like" a status update, maybe make a comment or two, but don't post much. Sometimes I'll read an especially interesting (to me) article and post a link. Occasionally I'll share something really good. I rarely actually make status updates as such, but have today. As I write this paragraph I'm getting more and more bored. How can you read this boring crap? I obviously have nothing worth saying. At least in this paragraph.

One of the things I like about Facebook is that the first half of the word I type with my left hand, the second half with my right hand. That's what I like about the word "facebook." Really? Is this all I can find to talk about?

I had a dream yesterday during my morning nap. (Damn, that's pathetic.) Tom Hanks lived in my neighborhood, drove a red pickup truck, and dropped by my house to hang out. The neighborhood and house in the dream were nothing like where I actually live, save the brick on all the houses. My house was a two storey affair, but the stairs between the floors were somehow unavailable so I couldn't get from one floor to the other. A bunch of people came by for a party (so unlike me!) which we held in the basement rumpus room. We played bingo? Or something like that. There was a young man who was trying to act like Tom Hanks, but was only successful at being annoying. He was trying to charm me, make me fall in love with him. He thought he was second in line for my affections when Superman abdicated his role as my husband. Superman got angry at him, but don't remember if he decked the guy. The Tom Hanks/husband pretender was at the party and everyone else found him annoying. Also, all the other party guests were old folks in dowdy clothing. Damned dream has been invading my awake life for two days now. I'm ready to forget the thing.

That seems to be all I have to say today. I know I'm smarter and more interesting than this, but damned if I know how to access it today. Perhaps I'm rotting away, bit by bit.

Oh boy

It's bad again, peoples. Bad, bad, bad. I'm losing it.

Many of you will recognize the question "Are you in danger of hurting yourself or others?" I was thiiiiis close on Friday.

This is what I feel like:

(This is a sculpture by artist Bruno Walpoth. His works are shown here.)

Cracked. And not ready to appear in public.

Of course it's the kids. Both of them angered me on Friday. Sproing missed the bus because he's an idiot. As soon as I got back from taking him to school, the school called about Diva. Shit. Diva's pants were in violation of the dress code, and would I please bring some appropriate pants. Shit.

I looked in her room for some pants. O.M.G. What a stinking mess. After poking around for about 10 minutes in the stink (she'd wet the bed and not washed the sheets, and I found other wet sheets bunched up in a laundry basket) I discovered her pile of dirty clothes (but not pee-soaked) and retrieved a pair of jeans. Took them to the school, but had to wait. I was so tired. And angry. Hadn't gotten to sleep until 4 that morning with the help of pain-reliever-PM, so getting up at 7:55 to deal with Sproing ... was unpleasant. I wanted to be home, take a shower, and go back to sleep.

But no, Diva's grade principal wanted to see me first, but she was in a meeting. Shit. (The school has one head principal and a handful of vice principals, each VP in charge of discipline for one category of students.) Well, lots of things happened in the waiting process. I didn't want to see Diva, but was escorted to the counselor's office in which she was waiting. And scowling. She's good at scowling. And was wearing tight, tight leggings, black with gold lame leopard spots. Hideous.

When Diva left the office to change her pants, this counselor (not Diva's regular guy) informed me that Diva has anger issues, is racist, and hates the fact that I am white because she (Diva) is black. Yeah, duh, this I've been suffering for years. YEARS!!! Then Diva's assigned counselor showed up so we moved to his office. Nice guy. Diva feels comfortable talking to him.

Then the vice principal came in. By then I had learned that the principal wanted me to take Diva home because of her behavior. Seems that when Diva was offered a change of pants from the school's clothes closet, she went ballistic. I can picture it. I've seen her do it thousands of times. Scream and yell and cuss at the adults trying to help her. Bitch. Oh, get this: the lady who offered her the clothes, a Mrs. R, has told Diva that she's a brat. My kids have dealt with Mrs. R before. Or rather, Mrs. R has dealt with my kids. Diva told us about the "brat" comment yesterday evening when Superman had his computer opened. (My computer hasn't been on since the day I wrote the previous post.) He looked up the definition of "brat" and lo and behold, it describes Diva (and Sproing) to a T. So I told Diva it's the truth. Diva has also been called a bitch (not by the adults, not in front of her anyway) and that's true, too.

I implored the administrators to keep her at school. By then I was a blubbering mess, eyes and nose leaking all over the place. Counselors kept shoving boxes of tissue at me. I said that she'd already been suspended for three days and it's so early in the school year. She was at school for one day, Thursday, before they wanted me to take her home. So they said if she could behave herself the rest of the day she could stay. Thank the gods in heaven and hell that she did. Stay at school, that is. Because by then I was a hot mess. I was shaking, crying, not able to think clearly about much of anything. I was honestly afraid of what might happen if I took her home. Really. I had a very strong urge to hurt her very badly. Either hurt her or harm myself. It could have gone either way.

This is actually a kind of progress, maybe. See, in the past I've always turned my anger and grief inward, always aimed to hurt myself. That I want to do serious bodily harm to this brat/bitch is, I think, a good sign. In context, anyway.

So Diva stayed at school and I went home, crying all the way. Took an Ativan (1 mg) as soon as I got home, then showered. After half an hour I still was wound up tighter than a watch spring, so I took another Ativan. By then my dear boy C was home, and he sat on the bed beside me and talked me down, so to speak. I had my bedside clock on my chest, waiting for 15 more minutes to see if I needed another pill. I didn't, thanks in part to C.

I was at the school for over an hour. The whole shebang, starting with Sproing, lasted a little over two hours. I finally went to sleep sometime after 11:00 and slept until Superman got home around 5:00. I had to cry on him for a while. He fed me some supper and I took another Ativan. I needed it. I sort of watched the Phillies beat the Braves (and anne marie cheers!) in a drugged stupor (me, not the Braves) before falling into a deep sleep once again. Sleep is best. It's the closest I can get to dead without actually dying. Not that I'd mind dying, but other people would be very upset. So I just sleep.

All day yesterday (Saturday) I felt pretty fragile. The brats were bratty, but I stayed in my room and Superman dealt with them. I tried not to take another Ativan because they are very addictive. Some of the stress and shakiness I felt when I woke up yesterday was an after effect of the drug. So I waited. By the end of the day I needed another one, but I didn't take it. Had some pain-reliever-PM instead and slept pretty well last night. Had a weird dream about an arsonist in New York City and a deaf girl, but that's beside the point. Probably. (Freud and Jung might have a different opinion, but I don't care.)

Superman took both the brats to the skating rink last night to get them THE HELL out of my house for a while. I was asleep when they returned. (Oh, I tried to watch the Braves vs. Phillies game last night, but was too anxious to watch baseball. Baseball, y'all. The second most boring (maybe third if you count curling) sport on television! (Golf being the most boring.))

Curling in funny pants. Like golf: boring and the players wear funny pants.

To continue: When Superman got the kids home, he had a talk with each of them individually. He told me about it this morning. He told them it was their fault that I was going nutty, and that he did not want to put his wife into a psychiatric hospital due to them being such horrid children. And that if he heard either of them saying anything disrespectful to me, he would hurt them. Pain, he said. They were suitably intimidated. But that was last night. Who knows what they'll be like today. 

Diva got up and went to church with a friend, and Sproing spent the night with a neighborhood friend, so he's not home now either. Superman pretty much kicked Sproing out last night, knowing he'd go to his friend's house. Good enough for me. It will be interesting to see how long it takes the boy to come home today. It's just past noon now. 

Superman called my therapist last night. She talked to me for a while, I told her what all happened and how I feel. Asked her about psych units around here. The hospital in town closed its psych ward a few years ago, though there's talk of opening it up again. My therapist likes the one in Greenville, she said. Not that it's time for me to go there yet. Probably. She also said she is going to talk to a lawyer friend of hers on Monday about getting these kids deemed incorrigible, and perhaps they will be removed from the home on that count. I have my doubts. It's very difficult to get rid of one's nasty children. We've been trying for years. I don't have the strength to look for an alternative placement for them right now. Too traumatized. 

Today's post has been brought to you by the word Traumatized. 

Things I find interesting

I share "thoughts for today" with you occasionally. Many come from A.Word.A.Day. Today's Word.A.Day is honcho. Here, let me show you.

A.Word.A.Day

with Anu Garg
honcho

PRONUNCIATION:

(HAWN-choh) 

MEANING:

noun: One who is in charge of a situation; leader; boss.
verb tr.: To organize, manage, or lead a project, event, etc.

ETYMOLOGY:

From Japanese honcho, from hon (squad) + cho (chief). Earliest documented use: 1947.

USAGE:

“The three head honchos are the recipients of the Best CEO Award.”
Cool Heads and Calm Nerves at the Helm; The Business Times (Singapore); Aug 12, 2013.

Explore "honcho" in the Visual Thesaurus. 
A THOUGHT FOR TODAY:
You can out-distance that which is running after you, but not what is running inside you. -Rwandan proverb
And I've included the thought for today which I find to be very true.
Honcho, it turns out, is a Japanese word. Huh, that surprises me. I thought it was Spanish.

I am home with Diva today. She's behaving herself well. Yesterday she acted like a mean bitch, but today she's doing well so far. I've had her doing some work, though not a lot. I don't have the gumption to drive her harder right now. She's reading Elie Wiesel's Night in her English class. I have a copy, and my plan is to read to her from the book later in the afternoon. She doesn't read very well. I could have her read the book herself, but she will bitch about it (probably) and either won't do it, or will pretend to do it and not get anything out of it.

I read some of my favorite blogs today. It's been a while since I read most of these blogs. I love reading what sort of things my blog buddies are up to. Why don't I do it more often? Maybe it's the depression thing. Or perhaps it just takes too much time. Yeah, I've been sitting here for a couple of hours reading blogs when I could have (should have) been doing other useful things. I have stuff to accomplish today. Sitting on my fat ass reading blogs isn't one of them.

Twitch moved out!! We (Superman and I) drove him to Charleston on Saturday, left him in a cute little apartment with a couple of other young guys, friends of his. Operative word is "left." Not French gauche left, but abandoned left. "Left without him." Oh, it's good to have one fewer character living in this house. One of the things I want to accomplish today (this week) is to move the rest of his stuff out of the room he's been staying in and move MY stuff into it, to reclaim it as my office. This is a glorious thing. Though I think I'll paint it before it gets crowded up with my junk. What color? Don't know yet. We have LOTS of extra paint hanging around the house, cans we've used for other things. We have a lot of ugly green paint, and I don't want that. We also have some pink, some dark purple, and a few yellows. I'm thinking yellow would look nice in there. Maybe pink, but probably not. Pink can be nice, but it's easy to overdo the pink.

Superman is coming home for lunch soon, so I'm gonna get this posted and heat up some of the left over chili that's taking up room in my refrigerator.