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.