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.

musings

Lookee here, it's September already! My Grandmama used to say "lookee here." She also said "that's a ticket" when I did something right. Without even meaning to, I use those same phrases occasionally. When I was a child, one of my goals in life was to be a crazy old lady like my Grandmama. Mostly I think I've made it. That makes me happy.

Being in school has many advantages. It gives me structure. It challenges and stretches me to grow in many ways. One of the ancillary benefits is that it helps the moods of the seasons. August and February are typically really bad months for me, but this year both months seemed to float on by without seasonal affective insanity. There was plenty of other insanity going on, as usual, but not that sense of doom I typically associate with August and February.

And speaking of growing in many ways, not all growth is positive. For example, take the growth of girth. Please. I'm a stress eater, and prefer the Santa Claus diet* above all else. Now that school is back in session, I find myself having to squeeze into the desks. It isn't a pretty thing, nor is it comfortable. I need to make sure there is a chair for me to use in those classrooms with the one piece desks. I can turn the desk around, sit in the chair in front of the desk, and use the desktop that way. My book bag can sit on the desk seat. Maybe all the walking around campus will help me "reduce," as my Grandmama used to say. Maybe eating more fresh fruits and veggies and whole grains, and much less cookie and ice cream will help me reduce. It's a thought.

I attended three of my five classes yesterday. Today I go to the other two. So far, so good. All of the classes except one look very good. I have three psychology classes, one sociology class, and a Theater and Film class. I need the humanities/fine arts credit from that theatre class. I don't mind the subject at all, and it has the potential to be interesting. It's a large class, though, and the majority of my classmates are freshmen. That's a match made in hell. Anyway, we shall see what we shall see.

*Milk and cookies, of course. Though I prefer coffee with my cookies. I get my dairy supply from ice cream.

Randomness

Why isn't frightening spelled like lightning?

Giraffes are my favorite wild animal, elephants being a close second. I'm also rather fond of the large land tortoises.






Sometimes I think I'm too sensitive for my own good. When my friends grieve, I grieve.


We've had a couple of days of rain. The rest of the Fay system seems to be slowly passing over us. The rain is good, we desperately need it. Humidity is high, the days are damp and heavy. It feels very tropical. Temperatures are a good 10 degrees lower than they have been, with highs in the mid 80s and little or no sun. Except for the humidity, it would be almost comfortable.

But my indicator tells me summer is not over. The water coming from the cold water tap is still tepid, not cold. This is yet another thing I don't like about The South.

No, I still haven't applied to Lander U. for spring semester.



This evening I watched The Women for the first time. I can certainly understand why it is a gay classic! If ever you want a lesson on how to be a catty bitch, this movie will show you how.



Superman has another case of shingles. By that I don't mean he has a box of roofing material. Have I mentioned his shingles episodes before? The poor dear has been suffering shingles outbreaks for years now, usually when he is under stress and over tired. This time it is manifesting as pain along his right side from just above the knee to the armpit. It hurts to touch it. It hurts to not touch, it, too. He saw the doctor today and got a prescription for Valtrex. He gets so tired when he has a shingles episode. I think the pain wears him out.


I had another chance to feel old today. I was waiting at the pharmacy for a prescription to be filled. As I sat in their uncomfortable chair a fairly sexy bear came in to pick up his meds. He wore baggy cargo shorts and an unremarkable t-shirt. He didn't seem particularly tall, but wasn't short. He was packing a few extra pounds, not much, enough to make him snuggly. He had a scruffy beard that looked like the work of maybe 3 weeks growth, and it was shaped to cover much of his face. He had a small tat in the center of his left calf. I thought he might be in his early to mid 30s. When the pharmacy cashier pulled his meds, she asked him for his birthdate. He answered (number/number)1980.


1980 is the year I graduated high school. 1980 was two years before I met Superman. 1980 was 28 years ago, which seems like a long time. But in 1980 I was 18 years old, certainly old enough to procreate. This young man standing at the pharmacy counter was young enough to be my son. He looked way too old to be my son!


Yesterday would have been my Grandmama's 102nd birthday. She has been dead for about 11 or 12 years now. I miss the old girl.


That is all. Thank you.