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Intentions...

          A little bit of rearranging and a whole lot of updating for today. College is still going, though in a completely different direction than I could have ever anticipated. Ryan is still raising hell. Add in the conundrum that my other son, in the absence of his little hell raising brother has become sulky and moody. Ah, fifteen year old boys. Such a joy. I still adore both of them but I'm not going to lie. In light of an upcoming court date for Ryan, and him still not improving in the least, I'm feeling a touch hopeless. He is still in a treatment facility and I have no idea what is left for us to do. He decided to try to play the blame game. Blame real dad who has not been a part of his life in... oh. Ever. Blame John, but that one was not going to fly, even IF John and I are no longer together. A person just cannot go along through life blaming the world for their troubled mind. He needs to realize that, hard as it is to believe, he is his own problem and everyone wants him to succeed but he HAS to make a concerted effort.

         I ran into a guy in the hall today in school. The poor dear, he is always kind of gently moping around and as you can imagine, he is, naturally, not to blame for the way his life is going. I'm certain he felt as if I was accosting him as I informed him that this is his life, he needs to take ownership.

         This pep talk, if one could call it that, since I can always HOPE it would do some good, but seriously doubt it, was brought on by my own experience this week with two of my professors. I'm sure that it is shocking to discover that, somehow, an older (37 now) woman who speaks their mind and doesn't really feel the need to take any crap from anyone, even if they are my professor, might not be well received in a collegiate environment. I know. Say it isn't so. Oh yeah, so my drawing professor and I kind of exchanged words yesterday. By kind of, I mean, I was absolutely furious.  I am rather anti-confrontational, but don't let that fool you. I face my world head on, even if there are times I'd just rather go lie down and sleep it all away. He gave me a hug, and it was over. I hope, at least.

          Attending college for me has been rather tedious at times. I always try to make other people laugh and smile, even if I'm not really in the mood to laugh and smile myself. There are exceptions. Usually if I'm working in the ceramic lab, I'm not always all the way there. One of my fellow students told a couple of people I associate with on occasion that I am a 'complete and total bitch'. They went on to inform me that of course, that is just Angelia, everyone knows that. I have to wonder though, am I? I've never went out of my way to be hurtful. I am an outspoken person. I once was very shy, very quiet. My best friends were always the talkers, the boisterous ones. I shied away from people and kept to myself. It only took one marriage to fall apart for me to realize that I didn't want to forever be the side kick. I decided that I was not getting anywhere being 'that girl'. I wanted to live my life to the fullest. I do. Perhaps that grabs some the wrong way. I felt a bit of anguish at one point during all of this exchange. Who are these people, that actually really have no idea who I am, only what they see in school? They do not get to be a real part of my life. They never see who I actually am. They know very little of my past, how I've gotten to where I am now, what I've had to experience to get here. My first thought was to cease smiling for them. They do not deserve my time and attention. 
        In the end I decided against that plan of action. I do not want to become hardened or jaded. I like making people laugh. I like who I am. I've earned the privilege of being me.  

They can all just kindly bugger off. 


<3

And as for my marriage, pictures are all that remain. They are a reminder of a once marveled at beauty encased in loneliness and sadness. Sometimes, perhaps most times, we have to lie to ourselves in order to just survive. Eventually, some of us are faced with the reality of the lies we have convinced ourselves of. I'm not saddened by the loss of ten years of a pretty much one sided relationship. Loneliness is one of the reasons to have started this blog so long ago. A reprieve from the pain and anger, yet as I would post some of our story, I never questioned why. I never asked myself why it took me seven years to marry John. I think I was afraid of the answers and so just avoided it altogether. John and I were one of those couples that made everything look perfect and easy, but the reality was far more harsh. When I told him I was leaving him, it was the result of his request for another person to come into our marriage bed. I figure it this way, if he has to resort to another lover, right in front of me, then chances are pretty good that we were over before then anyway. The person he asked about finally, he attempted to manipulate me into thinking that that this would be a great idea because I already really liked her, more than as just a friend. This was his suggestion, and after thinking long and hard about his inference, I realized that indeed he was right. I did not wish to have a threesome with them though. The thought of him even touching her made me feel ill, still does. I didn't just have a crush on her. In fact, I knew already that I was in love with her. She is sitting behind me in our rented house, working on her own class work right now, as I write this. I have never felt so enamored with another human being or such a need to be with them, not even necessarily touching, but in proximity. I wish to shield her from the harshness of such a blatantly materialistic, racist, and bigoted world.  I have never wished for such before, except for with my children. So, I'm not sure if one could call me a lesbian, but I know with every fiber of my being, I will never lie with another man. I cried during coitus with every man I have been with, at some time or another. No more. It was past time I stopped lying to myself. And my life is better. Even with all of my gardens remaining open to me only in pictures, even if my fourth marriage just went up in the endless flames of lies and deception. Life is good.

Life is one of those things you should approach one day at a time and always be on the lookout for adventure. Two of my friends drove to Indiana with me to pick up another friend this week for the beginning of classes on the 14th. We had a pretty interesting time, just the four of us, with no sleep and waaaay too much caffeine. At one point we were passing a fireworks place and decided to stop and get some. So we did. I think that sometimes we forget to do things out of the ordinary, to live life as if we only have now. Today is that day. The day to make a new friend, the day to let go of an old friend, to sing, to dance, to play the music so loud that it hurts for a moment, to love until your lungs burn. Forget the easy way and travel the road you don't know.  Dreams are truly never far from where we wake, so let them go and learn to live instead.

Final Interdisciplinary 3-D Sculpture

The Emotional Spectrum of Modern Dance: Ecstasy/ Anger

paper mache`, beads, sand, acrylic

something old, something new

I started my 'no poo' routine yesterday. Poo being short for shampoo. I'm pretty excited and very curious as to what is going to happen and how long it will take to 'acclimate' to the change. I'll take pictures as I go. As for the newer things, tomorrow I submit some of my art work to a local art show. None of my items are for sale of course, since I hoard all of my work. Edvard Munch ain't got nothing on me. He is a favorite of mine but it was by accident that I discovered we have this in common. I'll probably post my pot from ceramics soon too. I am also stepping out of my sheltered world and joining the ceramics guild at MSU. A week for new beginnings.

  

Van Gogh's Secret

cardboard, glue, and spray paint with acrylic

 Oct. 2012

                                       The Path Up
                                           Charcoal on newsprint
                                         October 2012

    I've been working in the ceramics room and drawing quite a bit this semester. I love the classes. Not so much the 25 minute burn from the drawing instructor that I experienced last Thursday. It may have been no where near that long but it sure felt like it was about two hours. He was right, the drawing was awful. I've worked with so many materials over the years that drawing took a close rank to none. My perspective was terrible, completely off from where it was supposed to be. My drawings were incompetently rendered. My bad. I think that burn session did motivate me to step up my game a bit. I've been more focused since then and stopped expounding on how bad of an artist in the field of drawing I am. Self fulfilling prophecies are unnecessary.
    Ryan has still been doing really great, some issues here and there but he knows that I'm not backing down this time. I'm finishing college this time.

Tried to straighten my hair this morning. I bought a hair straightening iron at a yard sale last month and asked the lady I bought it from how to use it. I'm pretty sure she explained it pretty well but my hair has the ultimate control so it went south quickly. I think my hair ended up worse than when I started out. I ended the ordeal by chopping off half an inch all around. I have bangs again! Agh.

Left brain or Right?

The Accord
Oil/Acrylic on canvas board
16" x 20"
April 1, 2012

In Motion
Acrylic
11 1/2" x 8 1/2"
January-March 2012

Come on, spring!!!

Was just reading over my last post. I'm going to blame sleep deprivation. I don't know if that is really that great of an excuse but that is where I'm taking it. Things have been pretty chaotic here. It is almost spring, and I have my bags of flower seeds just aching to get into some soil. I'm doing things a little differently this year, hopefully with some awesome results. I'm planning on getting out with some grass seed and the tiller as soon as it is possible.

OH BOY!!!

One week into classes. I'm sick as a dog. My Mom passed away one year ago, so today has to be dark, overcast, and gray, even if the weather were not available for that, though it is. My classes are going really well, even though I've still not procured all of my books. I'm hoping my last textbook arrives today. I suppose I just have a head cold, but dear mercy, it is awful. I'm usually not the one to get sick. I also found a reason to think of doppelgangers yesterday. I kept looking at this lady in the art department trying to figure out where I knew her from. This morning I figured it out. I have pictures from ten years ago that look just like her. She is successful ME! O.K. I'm not saying she is 'actual' me, just that she looks just like I did before I got fattened up by home life. She pursued the art whereas I just plopped ,myself at home like a lump. I find myself strangely drawn to her. This of course, leads to some other off the wall thoughts. Like, what if there is a ME out there that is homeless, a ME that is trying to become a world famous violinist, a dancer, a singer, and a billion other possibilities? Each one with different life circumstances, like I was adopted. What if there was wealthy ME, super poor ME, and two parent ME, single Dad ME, single Mom ME? City raised Me? Which of course leads me to the thought that it would not just be ME, but YOU too!!! Lots of doppelganger YOUs and MEs out there, experiments for the higher ups???

Lost

Today I've made sure I have everything read for class in the upcoming week. I sat down and wrote my best friend who moved to Illinois pretty suddenly after she had an accident last winter. I've not been very faithful about writing, I suppose since it hurts so badly to be here without her, most likely one of my only true friends. I've been pretty vehement about not missing her but I'm lying to myself. I miss her so bad that it burns. I feel lost in the chaos that is every day. This hurts worse than all of the times I've ended any relationship, from walking away from friends who I discover are just asses, to all of my three divorces. The worst part, I've denied it for so long and she is not doing very well. She has been so sick and she is older. I feel like an insipid idiot for having pushed her further away, but now I do have a taste of what she probably felt when John and I moved off to where he was teaching. She has been a mother to a girl who never had one really. I feel like my heart is on a delay and now I get to feel the pain from having essentially lost the only person I've called friend besides my current husband.

Well, college has started and so far, it is at least interesting. I'm pretty excited about a new black and white acrylic painting and a three part collage. I've put the sewing machine up for the time being. Perhaps on spring break I'll be able to get a good start on the Americana Log Cabin quilt. It is cold and I'm feeling rather hopeful. Ryan has not lost it so far so that is good. John is still stick at home for the time being so all is well on the eastern front.

Young men's cologne...

Oh dear mercy. Classes start in 2 more days, and no word on my financial aid. This could be bad. Who knows. I'm a bit trepidatious about going back to college at 34 as an art major. Scary stuff. Here I am running around almost as flaky as a woman could be, my mind perpetually wandering elsewhere, even during other people's conversations. I'm a little nervous since I'm the older student and as an art major, I suppose I'm supposed to have some sort of style. Ha! I am completely lacking in fashion, style, or even class. I'm just some humdrum house wife and mother that has been stuck in the house for ten years. I have anxiety around crowds and am highly uncomfortable with people in general. I'm seriously intimidated by the upcoming experience. Not that I've not been in college before, but then I was a government major, experienced in the field I was going into and highly confident. Law is a much easier standard to live up to than being an artist.

Worry, worry, worry till your worrier is sore...

John and I have discussed the idea of worry today. He has declared my lack of worry being more akin to hopelessness. I cannot dwell each moment on the things that I have no control over. He says choice is an illusion, but I disagree. I think we all have choices, we either make them and do what we must to accommodate the lives we want to lead or we make choices to be obstinate and stifle our own creativity and become our own detrimental tool. 

Perhaps yesterdays post was a bit long winded. I wanted to get that out of my system though to perhaps alleviate some of the frustration of the current situation. It is a beautiful day today and I'm considering charging the batteries for the camera and heading outside into the snow dipped landscape. Maybe head to the bank before it closes today and go out for lunch even though I really cannot afford to. It'll be fine. I also want to finish putting the button eyes on the 'pin head' I made yesterday. I'll post a pic after I finish the buttons. Also getting ready, and I'm pretty excited about this, to cut the material for a new quilt. Americana here I come!

So, I was lying in bed yesterday when something hit me. We have been reading this whole man/woman thing all wrong. When you see some old guy hanging close to his younger lady 'friend', you think gold digger about her and cradle robber about him. Or the ever elusive cougar, when you see her strutting her stuff with the hot young guy? You don't even have to say it. I know. I've thought it too. "Dear God, I'd love to find a man that looks like that." Now granted, this was well over ten years ago when I was thinking this, but! You know what I mean. So, now, here was what hit me. (Sometimes you may just have to bear with me, I get sidetracked easily in my old age.) Young women develop mentally rather quickly, and in in constant 'life review'. In other words, they ALWAYS are running their mouths. Been there, done it. Young men, well, they can only think of one thing, constantly, and they want to participate in that activity more than anything else. I recall when I was young that sex was an 'obligation'. I didn't want my boyfriend to dump me for some hussy, nor my husband (NOT at the same time...) to feel put off by me. I never even used headaches as an excuse. I wonder if most young ladies feel the same way. Do not really ENJOY sex so much as it is part of the job requirement. Now, on to the older people's parts in this mess. Men develop mentally MUCH later (no offense guys, it is the truth). Empathy is something men rarely develop till mid to late 30's. So, now, when men suddenly develop mentally, they are looking less at the ladies breasts and wanting to 'chat', snuggle and other such madness. Women on the other hand have already been doing the life review thing for years. We are finished talking and looking to do some doing, we don't want some guy talking anymore. Of course here our guy is, blabbering away about how great his lasagne turned out last night and the older woman just wants him to shut up and put that thing somewhere warm and wet. So, older men/ younger women: Bonding because they are both hyper-emotional. Older women and younger men: Bonding due to hyper sexuality. Hmmm... I really think I may be onto something here.

Mt. Lakigi: Breathtaking view

My Bear.

Primitive long bonnets I've been making for some of the local ladies.

Live. Love and laugh still in progress.

The quilted couch throw and pillows.

Nine Patch quilt I made for Michael.

Michael kisses the stone man painted at Lakigi.

Brothers hanging out on the summit.

Balancing Ryan

My beautiful quilt. Some might say I'm full of myself but I truly feel I outdid myself making this log cabin quilt.

The long view of the log cabin quilt I made.

My handmade wild flower and bittersweet wreath

Taken at the fish hatchery while waiting on everyone to get back from the river, counting fish. Ryan and Michael had on their school shoes and were both a touch sniffley so we didn't want them walking in and getting sick.

One of my more recent paintings. Oil. Serenity

Ryan and Michael are in school now and I'm deciding if dealing with the rain and the stench of my indoor dog, Rupert since being sprayed by a skunk three times in one day, is really worth it. I was trying to quit smoking but have gradually started back again, one cigarette at a time. I'm pretty frustrated with the teenage attitude today. Everyone is cranky and on edge. It is not like it is freezing cold or could have cabin fever. The tension has not abated since Ryan came home fro Spectrum. Michael is resentful, and of course that could be more to do with puberty than anything his brother has ever done.

Perfection is a joke on mankind. Something to fight for, strive for, lust after, and realize it is always still an arms length away.

A Strained Peace...

 I'm sitting here with a cup of fresh coffee wondering what today has in store. There are things I need to do, things I have to do, and things that I want to do. Chances are pretty good that I won't get to do what I was wanting to do, and most of what I need to do will get put on the back burner till some other time. I would like to go outside and work today, but I'm flat exhausted so that probably won't happen. Mondays have always been good days for me, but today has already been tiring instead of pleasant. Ryan was not in good spirits this morning and the oppositional defiance disorder reared its ugly head first thing. I asked both boys to take a bag of garbage out for me, since the trash pick up here is Monday mornings. Ryan threw up all over the bathroom rug and that really didn't bother me so much, but he has to take this medication and now I've no idea if it remained in his system or not. Could mean a troubling day. I need to go to the grocery store, heaven help all souls if I've no coffee, but I'm afraid that if I do what I'm supposed to do today, the guidance counselor will call for me to come pick Ryan up. I talked to him this morning and let him know what had happened and that if there is even the slightest provocation, to call me and I'll come pick Ryan up. I feel like this mornings post has been mostly me complaining so I'll end it here before I actually get to feeling sorry for myself or something ridiculous.

Ryan comes home...

Well, Ryan has been living in a psychiatric residential treatment facility for the last ten months. We are very happy to have him home and have missed his wonderful sense of adventure and humor. I've not painted anything since he has been gone. I worked at a clothing store for a short period of time and managed my grief for my mother passing away and my youngest child being away from the nest by becoming numb. It is funny how we survive the worst of things by just cloaking ourselves from the pain. Ok, maybe funny is the wrong word. I started this blog in order to deal with Ryan's behavior problems in a therapeutic manner and sometimes it worked. Sometimes in the last year, the pain has been shattering and I've just sat down by myself and let the waves of self hatred wash off me. The ten months that Ryan was in residential gave me a chance to step back and re-evaluate where I'm heading as a parent, as a wife, and as a person. I must admit that by the time Ryan's 'meltdown' occurred, I was on the brink of melting down also. I was becoming someone I didn't ever want to become and was not sure how to refrain from the spiral into the same kind of parent my adopted parents were. I had a very rough childhood filled with abuse, neglect, and cruelty. I usually do not speak to others about my childhood in the vague hope that people will care about me for me, without the pity. I have felt rarely pity for myself and never wished anyone to feel such in regard to me, so I have kept my past pretty close. When I was 11 years old I was removed from my parent's home by the state of Kentucky, due to neglect. My bus driver drove past our home while there was snow on the ground and noticed me crouched in between the storm door and the main door of our house, trying to stay warm since my adopted mother had me locked out of the house. I learned from the group homes I was put into that the cycle of abuse was able to be broken and I wanted nothing more than to have children to give the love that was never given to me. I admit that the stress of living with a child that was so angry was rather daunting to me. I've never been an angry person, even with all of the abuse I suffered at the hands of many of my family members. I understood eventually that they could no more help what they were doing to me than I could stop what they were doing. I was becoming angry at the whole world and the ten months allowed me to take a step back and realize what I was allowing to happen in my household and now I no longer need to yell, or be angry. He has a wonderful intelligence but that does not allow him the control of his emotional spectrum. I do have the control over my own and can let go much easier than he can or will. I gained back my parental standards and we are on a new path, one we can all take pride in and come out on the other side much improved and a more stable family for it. I am starting back to college in the spring. I'm going to major in art and partake in the teacher education program, focusing in special education. Here's to figuring out what we need to do in life.

Darling Ryan...

We had our phone conference with spectrum care today. They really do not tell me anything different in these sessions than what I already know. I'm quite frustrated because I cannot talk to him or see him enough to satisfy me. I must admit that I have kind of started drinking again, after almost ten years of sobriety. This week has started out bad. :(

out of time

 Mom is gone and I'm thinking that I may be lost. I've always down-played everything I feel because I know others feel the same things. I've never really required anything from others. I've stood alone most of the time. I've ignored my own emotions in place of what others feel. I've never really disclosed to much 'real' stuff about myself because I've wanted people to care on my merit, not simply because they feel sorry for me. I'm not one for pity. I normally do not feel sorry for myself, which makes it hard to feel sorry for others. Today though, I feel like I ran out of time.

Mom...

So, Ryan is now in a treatment facility. He has been for some time now. His therapist believes it will help him develop coping skills to make sure he is a part of the grieving process of my mother's death. We will be going to Elizabethtown to pick him up, allowing him to attend my Mom's funeral, when ever that ends up being. Children are so resilient, but I wonder if this might seriously throw him off his track. He seems to finally be straightening out a little bit. We are very proud of how well mannered and helpful he was on our Sunday visit.
Our visit with Mom on Sunday night was really late, but she went ahead and got up. She was so hard to understand but I was thinking she wanted to get up to visit so I finally asked her if she wanted me to go get Jack. She looked at me real serious and said she had quit drinking. She kind of giggled after she said it so I had to wonder if she was making a joke, in that bad of shape, she was still finding humor in things? Would the rest of us be able to still laugh, knowing full well the next breath could potentially be our last. I told her I love her and she said she knew, she knew I'd always loved her and that she had always loved me. Losing your child has to be the single most painful thing I can think of to occur to a woman. My Mom was a very tough woman, and she was beautiful. I remember when I met her, when she, the girls and Jack lived in Hammersville. I thought she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever laid eyes on. She was so graceful, always quick to smile, to laugh, even at herself. Her love for life was so incredible. She carried guilt around with her, much like I do. For things we could not possibly go back and change. I've never blamed Mom for my life. It has not been pretty but it is what it is. I embrace it, possibly with as much zeal as my recently departed Mom. In my minds eye Mom will always be the beautiful princess I met at eleven years of age, having never been able to glean more than her first name away from any of the Wilson family. My Aunt Nelda, finally told me her name and showed me a picture that supposedly had been taken when she was pregnant with me. I sure thought Lu was an odd name for a woman, but my mother was undeniably spirited and gorgeous even in a faded 9 year old picture. I love you Mom.

Ryan comes out of the hospital today, to go to a long term treatment facility. I finally went to the doctor and found out I have acquired a healthy case of pneumonia. What a month.

Today

Today Michael scored the only two goals his team has made the entire soccer season. Ryan called me last night and sounded sad and said he was sorry for not calling the day before. I wonder if the hospital staff may have said something to him about not calling me. I'm not sure he would apologize on his own. Michael and I rented three movies last night and made chili fries for dinner. I feel like I might be kind of copping out on the poor little guy. My husband's  brother and wife came up tonight bearing a pork tenderloin, fresh green beans and a sunny little girl who was all smiles and kisses, until she got sleepy. I had hope it would cheer me up. It did a little, then Michael and I vegged in front of the screen of pretty lights and colors long enough to watch "Outsourced" and then we delved into the achingly sad "Time Travelers Wife". I read the book a few years ago and was touched by it. The movie almost went along with the book wonderfully. John didn't call me tonight and I'm already somewhat weepy, so it is likely for the best. Even the cats are kind of steering clear of me. Right up till I typed that, then Shiloh meowed at me and rubbed up on the chair. What a sweetie. Michael was being really sweet today too. We took Sookie to the soccer game and she puked on Michael about two miles away from the house. Fortunately it was on the way back home. Michael was pretty grossed out. This would be the second time the poor little puppy has vomited on him. The first time was about three minutes after we bought her. She gets car sick. She is full grown but still a pup. Pretty cute little monster, she is a Yorkie and Maltese mix. I got her on Father's Day for John but she has kind of taken up with me since I'm always here.

Yoyo Hunt...

Michael wants a new yo yo. He wants one of those really expensive ones. One ranging around $110 to $148. Wow! I look like a bank to you kiddo? The one he's getting is the Northstar. It only (oh my!) costs $34, plus shipping and handling. I told him it might be a few weeks. I just bought him three totaling 34 dollars. Still have not heard from Ryan. Michael has been doing yo yo tricks all day with the help of the Yomega team, nice and succinctly wrapped onto a DVD.

How lovely...

Michael lost his soccer game tonight, keeping the record for most games lost in a season; all of them. Ryan declined calling me from the hospital, saying that he was going to just wait for someone to call for him. I've decided to call and check up on him without letting him know I'm calling. He waited the last placement out, till they had to send him home. I was heartbroken last time that he didn't even want to call me. I'm starting to think perhaps my baby boy is a spoiled brat who meaningfully hurts others, me at the top of the list. How is it possible to have two children so impossibly different? Blech!

In a perfect world...

Children would realize how much we love them and not go out of their way in attempts to hurt us. Ryan was admitted into a local acute crisis center last night. He was very excited about going. All of his stuff that he was allowed to take was packed yesterday morning. He was still being very defiant and would  not respond to John nor I. He seems rather contented with himself. His last hospitalization, I gain eight of my lost pounds back. This time I am determined to feel less of the guilt I did the last time. When Ryan came home from the hospital the last time, Michael, my twelve year old son, John, my husband, and I all tried everything we could to revise how our household runs in order to accommodate him. I have a tendency to be a bit more on the permissive side when John is on the road, mainly because John is my rock, my stabilizer. I am somewhat more distracted when he is gone because I focus more on my artwork. Thing is, when the children get home from school, I am all theirs. We always have dinner together, at the table. I sit down and help with homework. I have some of their friends over on the weekends. I try to be as patient as possible. Even when Ryan physically attacked me the other night at the soccer field, at Michael's practice, after I'd let him go to his practice in order to "run off some energy",  I tried to keep it all in perspective. I did mess up. I kind of have this odd tick. When I get real nervous or really embarrassed, I started laughing. He had been screaming about how much he hates me for the last twenty minutes. How mean I was and how I wouldn't help him. The messed up part was that I was actually trying to help him.We all know that unless one is willing to help themselves, all the 'help' in the world will do no good. He ended up charging at me and one of the ladies at the practice called John while I restrained Ryan in the parking lot. He was relatively calm by the time his Dad got there and was trying to tell me he was sorry, so I sat in the back seat of the car and talked over what had happened. The real issue is this: Ryan had skipped homework. The teacher sent all that work and it was left for John and I to get him through it. John helped him until soccer practice. I took him to soccer, with the understanding that at Michael's practice, he would finish the assignment. When we got to Michael's practice, Ryan informed me that he would like to take a zero on the assignment and go play on the school playground. I told him that he could play on the playground AFTER he finished the math worksheet. That is when he started escalating. We typically call it "melting down". What Ryan had done was basically throw a super-sized temper tantrum. His I.Q. is 147. He is a smart little guy. He just seems to not care who he mows over on his path of self destruction.

A testament of surviving...

I woke up this morning with the realization that, while I would rather paint for a little while, I had other, more pressing items on the agenda. I'll write about Ryan, my ten year old son. He is the reason for my delay today. He is at home with me this morning, walking around now, sulking, mourning what he could have done differently yesterday. Yesterday he assaulted a police officer, was arrested and given a court date. He has bi-polar disorder and is a live wire. There are other diagnoses as well, but he thinks that bi-polar disorder is the one that controls him, much to my chagrin. I'm not really certain where to go with all of this. I'm hoping perhaps some wondrous and magical solution will pop up, but it has not so far. Today Ryan will likely be institutionalized and there is nothing I can do to prevent it. I feel guilt in the admission that I'm somewhat relieved. He threatens me and his brother, who is eleven, almost twelve. I feel rather helpless. I have played by all the rules and this is admittedly my worst nightmare. His doctor told us spanking is not a solution, and we have complied, but when you have a ten year old with a known I.Q. of 147 who thinks he is 'superior' in every way, things get a bit hairy. I realized day before yesterday that the paddle did prevent one thing. The constant whining sound that he has emitted since the last time he left the hospital. Hopefully things will clear up soon and my house will transform back into the harmonious home I once knew it to be.