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.