The thing is, she's just going to come home and go right back to her crap so instead of thinking about how she's going to come home and go right back to her crap, I'm thinking about other things, on purpose. Every time Sissy comes to my brain, I forcibly change the thought in my head. I have to. I must decompress or I won't survive her return.
The best way to explain it is we've been in a tempest with 30 foot waves crashing on us for years on end. Even the last time she was RTC wasn't a respite because we had non stop phone calls and face-to-face therapy which meant 6 hour round trips in a day ... no respite. In addition, we hadn't gotten to the place emotionally where we could say, she's going to do what she's going to do and we are not responsible for her choices anymore.
Can I just say, it was very hard to get to that emotional point? It was extremely difficult to put aside the fact that she's an adorable, short, chubby 11 year old and get to the heart of her issues. She's not well, will never be well, can not understand the dynamics of a home environment and will be on a crash course for destruction in this environment no matter what we say or do.
It's freeing to be on this side of the fence. However, it is impossible to prevent the 30 foot waves of her tempest from crashing down on us when she's here. So that means I have to make every effort to float on a placid lake every second she is away. I have to close my eyes and concentrate on the smell of the air and the way it sounds as it whistles past my ears. I have to breathe slowly and deeply and take in the green earth around me. I have to train my thoughts on the sounds of birds and bugs, slowing time to a stand still so I can reach out and touch every particle of serenity. I must be a sloth, hanging from a tree for hours on end without moving a muscle and just be without excuse, without purpose, without plan.
I pulled back from the virtual world so I could capture the essence of calm, peace and serenity and attempt to retrain my cells to function without 24/7 high alert adrenaline surges. My cells have screamed for it, given me headaches beseeching the intense psychological impulses of emergency. I have denied them and gone to bed early or taken naps or quilted. Oh, how I have quilted! Just look and see ...
Coasters - prize for my 100th follower: Mommy needs therapy!
Getting started on the March Panel
the two blocks
12" finished nine-patch square: jacob's ladder with opposing directionality
alternating the rows of blocks after assembly creates a basket weave pattern
design is original
Here's a face we've not seen much of lately. Before I left for Orlando, AB was in a manic phase. Now he seems to be in a depressive phase. We've done the lab work for his hormones and see the pdoc again next Thursday. I'm hoping we can make some alterations to his meds and get to the bottom of this early-onset puberty because boy oh boy do I miss this face. I think I prefer manic over depressive. NOT fun.