It’s been almost a month since I’ve posted anything on my blog. I’ve come on here but I just ended up closing the page. Do you ever just stare at the computer screen and feel like you have absolutely nothing to say? That’s sort of what’s been happening to me the last little while. Don’t get me wrong. There’s lots going on. Loads of things actually. It’s that I just don’t know how to say them.
Where to begin….
My relationship with T….Let’s start with that, shall we.
I sometimes wonder if everything feels as confusing and overwhelming for T as it does for me. Here is this person and he’s been sucked into working with them. I’m sure he’s doing things differently and he’s probably wondering if he’s doing the right thing. Maybe he’s even wondering if he is making things worse and is wrong in thinking that he can help. It’s not that way though.
T and I spend a lot of time in silence. We’ve been talking about what it means. For me, I can hear things better when I can’t hear things at all. That’s what it’s like in the silence of that space with T. I can catch small glimpses of what’s going on inside. I can try to unravel it and make sense of it. Not always, but sometimes I can. I can’t do that out here. I can’t get outside of those four walls what I get in T’s office. Not out here, where my mind feels torn. Not where everything is big and loud and chaotic.
I told T that I didn’t expect him to understand, but it often feels like the world is just weird words and sounds that are loud and grating and make me feel crazy sometimes. And my thoughts, they’re just cluttered with distractions. Distractions and conflict and internal battlefields with wars constantly raging on.
It’s different when I’m with him. It feels like maybe T actually gets it. In many ways that feels like a scary realization though. Scary because it means he knows things that other people don’t know. He knows about the bad things and the bad people and sometimes that’s hard because it makes me feel broken. I feel like a very broken person sometimes. Defective maybe. He doesn’t make me feel that way, it’s just how I feel because of the things that he knows. Does that even make sense?
While therapy is bumpy and filled with ginormous snotty, tear-filled puddles, it might just be starting to feel a lot less like working on quicksand. Some days I can even go to a session and not feel like I want to rip my skin off. I suppose that might even be seen as a little bit of progress.
Therapy has been hard–so fucking hard–but T has been T and is still around. Through thick and thin, he never changes. I’m still struggling immensely with the belief that one day he’ll have completed his plan to abandon ship and just won’t be there anymore but so far I keep showing up and so does he. I’m also learning that it might be possible to feel afraid and safe at the same time and that T won’t suddenly become some crazed lunatic and hurt me. There have been some pretty hard days the last little while where I wasn’t quite sure I was going to survive. Truthfully, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to. But I’m still here….and so is he.
My Auntie…the one who lives in Thunder Bay, the one I went to visit last fall and the one who is the only one of my aunties that I actually care about called my mother last week. My mother didn’t want to tell me because she said ‘I’d get all worked up about it‘ but eventually did tell me this past weekend that she had called.
About 10 years ago, my Auntie was diagnosed with breast cancer. She underwent surgery, had chemo and radiation. She went into remission but then ended up with a benign tumor on her auditory nerve that had to be removed. The surgery caused her to become permanently deaf in her one ear and drastically altered her life. Because she had breast cancer she has had to go for tests every year. Last year she was fine, but this year after her testing they called her back and told her she had to do more testing. They think her cancer is back.
It’s a shitty thing, you know. It always seems like the people who don’t deserve the bad things to happen are always the ones who get the short end of the stick. I haven’t talked to her yet. I’m probably living in a bit of denial but more than likely it’s because I’ll probably just burst into tears….and she does not need me losing my shit when she’s waiting for results. Her follow-up testing is tomorrow, so hopefully we’ll know something soon. Maybe it’s nothing. I don’t know. If it is though, life is about to change in so many ways.
Lupus and utter exhaustion…it’s a bit of a pain in the ass to be honest. I saw the rheumatologist a couple of weeks ago. A lot of people don’t like her, but she’s always been really nice to me, so I’m okay with her. We talked about my medications and I will have to stay on the plaquenil for a least another year (most likely forever). I mentioned that the side effects of the plaquenil have mostly subsided but it makes me way more sensitive to the sun. She said that it’s a common side effect and I’ll have to be super, duper careful and that sun is horrible for lupus anyways. We talked about some of my symptoms and she said the cold hands and feet just might be something I’m going to end up living with and it might never go away. She said I may be one of those people who has to wear mittens and socks more often than the normal population. Socks and Birkenstocks?!?! No problem!! The other problems I’m having may or may not subside over the next year she said. We’ll just have to wait and see. Overall it wasn’t a horrible appointment with her and all of my blood-work came back good so something is obviously working right.
As for the exhaustion, I broke down and saw my family doctor and now I’m taking something that’s supposed to help me sleep. Sometimes I think it helps, sometimes not. I have to see him next week so I might ask him if it’s possible to up the dose to see if that makes a difference. The side effects were a bit of a nightmare the first two weeks, but I think they’re starting to calm down a bit–I do hope so. We’ll see what he says. I do find he’s been a lot nicer to me since I was diagnosed with lupus, so I guess that’s a good thing.
M and the drama continues…I don’t know where to start with M.
M has been living with his father since February and life has been much lot calmer with him gone. C is doing better in school, has calmed down considerably, stopped talking like a baby and is getting better reviews from his teacher. We still see M every second weekend, but usually by Sunday afternoon even that is too much, as he’s extremely rude, defiant and has often tormented C to the point of a complete and utter meltdown.
Dad of course still refuses to admit that there are any major problems. I’m not sure which part of M hitting his mother-in-law and swearing at her does not constitute a problem or refusing to go to school and throwing huge fits in the vehicle when people are driving is okay. I still can’t figure out how much longer dad wants to ‘play it by ear‘ to see what will happen. We did get into the Intensive Treatment Services program but because it involves ‘in-home‘ visits, dad didn’t want to do it. I did manage to get us put to the bottom of the waiting list again rather than closing the file though. So, if M does come back to live with me, not all of the hard work to get this far has been lost.
One thing that has gotten easier is the relationship between dad and I. There just isn’t anything at all–no phone calls, no texts–nothing. I do feel bad for C because dad barely communicates at all between visits but C doesn’t seem too upset by it all. Perhaps he’s just happier knowing his brother isn’t going to beat the crap out of him on a daily basis.
It also looks like M is going to be changing schools next year. It makes sense really, because the school he’s at now requires him to be driven and picked up daily, so I could see dad wanting him in a school in his own neighbourhood. I told dad that it was fine and that I just wanted him to finish the year at his current school, so that’s what is happening for now.
Things had started to feel much easier since M had moved with dad but that all went quickly downhill last week when I received a text message from Dad’s wife last Friday morning. I won’t go into detail about what the text entailed but as soon as I read it I felt absolutely crushed.
I spent a lot of time thinking about the new situation with M over the weekend and it just doesn’t sit right with me at all. I firmly believe that M has bigger issues than any of us can deal with and I just don’t feel like I have the right tools to help him. I did some inquiring without giving any identifiable information and from what I was able to learn, a report should be made. I don’t think it’s an easy decision but I don’t think I can live with not doing anything. I can’t live with knowing that something could have been done, but wasn’t. I love my son, but I will call whoever needs to be called and I will tell whoever needs to be told to make sure things get resolved.
I thought because of the sensitivity of the situation I would contact dad’s wife and tell her my plans to report. She is beside herself (which I completely understand) and is having a really hard time accepting it for what it is. She’s worried that she’s taking it out of context although I don’t even see how that could happen considering what was said and the gravity of the situation. Dad of course won’t believe for one moment that something is wrong–fucking ostrich.
Dad’s wife has an appointment with her family doctor on Thursday and she is going to talk to them about it, so I told her I would wait until then to see what they had to say. I did tell her that I believe the doctor will have to report the situation. Honestly, I’ll be absolutely shocked if they don’t.
I hope by the end of this week there’s a bit of calm and some direction about how things are going to go. It feels like fucking insanity at the moment. Sometimes, I feel like I’m dying and just don’t know how things got so incredibly fucked up. I will try to post more once I know what is/isn’t happening, but for now the questions keep circling through my mind. Did I miss something? Could I have done something differently? How does life get so messed up that a mother even has to consider reporting their own child to protective services?