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.