New Beginnings - September 4, 2024

I was tempted to name this post "Pigs and Hell"—meaning pigs can fly, and hell freezes over—but it was too vague for what I am feeling.

First, I never thought Hunter would reach out to me, yet he did. Second, I never thought he would apologize for being so angry with me, yet he did. See? Pigs can fly, and hell freezes over. 

For many years, I have prayed that Hunter (and Connor, but that's another post) would find his way back to me, so I could share his history with him. I gave Hunter the link to this blog with one request: that he didn't break my heart again.

    September 3, 2024, 12:49 am. "This is the last phone number that I can remember that you may have had. If this is who I think it is, you were right, and I could not have been more wrong a day in my life. He used me until I didn't serve any purpose anymore. He discarded me like trash. Mom, if this is you, I'm so sorry."

Dear Hunter,

Thank you for taking a leap of faith and reaching out to me. You see, I kept the same phone number, despite moves to different area codes, in the hopes that you would remember it -- and remember me. And you did. To say I was shocked to see a text from you would be an understatement. I thought I was being set up for heartbreak. Thank God, it was truly you! I have enjoyed our telephone calls and our texts, and I hope they continue.

Love, 
Mom 

No. 22

Happy birthday, Hunter-Bear.

While we cannot be together to celebrate, I want you to know that I LOVE YOU more than you can ever know.

If given the opportunity I would share this blog with you. My hope is that, by your reading it, it would answer any questions you may have and, more importantly, prove to you there are two sides to every story. You could see that everything you think you know, is not true.

It has been almost three years since I saw you last and it seems like an eternity. I wish you nothing but the best in life, Bear.

I have loved you for all of your life, Bear, and that will never, ever change.

Happy 22nd Birthday, Hunter!

Love,
Mom

Dreams

It's been said that our sleeping dreams are representative of worries or conflicts needing resolution. While I mostly agree with that explanation, I must add that, for me, awakening from many of them is pure torture.

In a dream last night I received a text message from my son Hunter and in that message he apologized for cutting me out of his life and wanted to become part of mine again.

When I awoke this morning and checked my text messages, I found nothing from Hunter.

Crushed.

Not too long ago I had a dream about Henry where I felt his kiss on my cheek and heard him say "I love you". He was wearing a blue/green shirt (I dreamt in color!) and I could smell his aftershave.

I awoke sobbing, my pillow was wet with tears - and Henry was gone. Only the scent of his aftershave lingered.

Crushed.

The reality of dreams like these only push me further into myself, fortify the walls I have built around my heart while I sink deeper into the abyss.

It doesn't matter how deeply I love someone, I cannot twirl a magician's wand or click my sparkly red shoes three times to make them love me in return. I don't have a secret potion that would bring me home to the man I love more than life itself.

What I DO wish I had was a crystal ball. Something I could gaze in from time to time to see if the path I'm on is the right one, if I need to change direction or if I should disappear completely.

More than that though, I would like to know if, along my path, I find Henry, Connor and Hunter patiently waiting for my arrival.

Instead
Of
Only
In
My
Dreams

Could my dreams be the crystal ball...?

Labels

If the world knew how broken I feel inside and that I am in a bottomless pit of hurt and shame, it would surprise everyone.

For the past 6 months or so I have been living the self-imposed life of a hermit - and it is worsening. Sure, I get up and go to work - always on time, I might add - yet in the hours spent outside of work, I am camped out in my apartment. I enjoy the peace and quiet. No sound of constantly ringing phones, dealing with women/girls that are too clueless and without enough common sense that I wonder how they dress themselves, yet alone procreate. The entitlement mentality of many of our patients is so rampant that, at the end of every day, when I haven't told a patient exactly what I'm thinking, I pat myself on the back.

I digress.

When I am not working, or attending a medical related appointment, I am safely inside the 4 walls of my abode.

I discovered ordering groceries on-line, then driving to pick them up. Because they load my groceries into my car for me, I am in and out pretty quickly.

Laundry is a whole other adventure. I can't decide if I should be happy or worried that I have enough clothes to do laundry every other month. My scrubs, on the other hand, are not as plentiful, although I do have enough for two weeks. I hand wash and hang dry my scrubs at home.

I have zero desire to date, so I don't. I don't hang out after work with co-workers. I just don't have the patience or energy.

Am I becoming one of those old cat ladies (without cats)?

If the world knew that Connor and Hunter have shut me out of their lives, deliberately, having both been force fed one side of extremely complicated stories - most of which are blatant lies - about me from their dads.

Still, I am holding out for the day Hunter and Connor decide they want to hear what I have to say. Ironically enough, I have this blog as well as numerous handwritten journals where I have captured almost everything about how hard I have tried establishing relationships with them. Hunter and I were extremely close right up until he decided to move to his dad's house. The relationship Hunter and I developed over the first 15 years of his life were completely destroyed within the first month Hunter was with his dad.

Do I blame everything on the dad? Oh hell NO! There are many, many things that I could have, would have, should have done. Like fight harder for all of them - Matthew included. I should have stood my ground with Hunter's dad, and I should have stood my ground with Connor's dad too.

The only person to blame is me.

I suck.

Emo

The past few days my emotions have been simmering on the surface just waiting for that one thing for it to boil over. I haven't been able to really identify why I feel this way.

One thing I DO know is that every time I think about my boys, where they are in their lives, where they live now and how badly I failed them - I cry.

I feel enormously blessed that Matthew and I communicate so frequently and I really enjoyed having him here with me over Christmas. As the years pass, I can't help but see more and more of me in him - and it's, I dont know, spooky? I love Matthew more than I could ever show him. I hope he knows that.

Connor is still doing the military thing and even though I've reached out to him I haven't communicated with him since he told me that he is an insulin-dependent Type 1 diabetic. Connor has not ever given me a chance to show him how much I love him and how much I miss him.

About 3 weeks ago I sent a message to his dad, aka "Bib", inquiring about how Connor was doing. His reply was, "You'll have to talk to him about that." It's sadistically satisfying that, even after all these years, he is still a self-righteous asshole and as tempting as it is to clue Connor in on a few things about his dad, I just keep my mouth shut. For now.

Hunter. There are no words to explain how much I love and miss him too.

Still, I am not enough.

I will never be enough.

Not even to myself.

My Sons

I have chosen to not write much about my boys because, I miss each of them so deeply, the pain that comes when l think about them burns like an inferno.

I saw Hunter a little over a year ago. I hadn't seen or talked to him in about three years. I had called him around Christmas time (by leaving messages on both his dad's phone and his stepmother's phone) to ask if he would like to join his oldest brother Matthew, daughter-in-law Monica and grandson Xavier at Grandpa's house. Of course Hunter never called back and I had no idea if they told him I called.  When I finally got Hunter on the phone to ask him about Christmas, his reply stunned me,

"I don't want anything to do with you or your fucking family. It's because of you that I didn't see my dad and you kept putting me in hospitals instead of letting him take me."

W H A T ! ?

I have written so much about Hunter on this blog as well as about his dad (DH) and stepmom. I have even written about many, probably not all, the times Hunter's dad gave Henry and me excuse after excuse after excuse about why he couldn't pick Hunter up for the weekend, or why he couldn't come to family meetings when Hunter was in the hospital, or why he didn't go to parent/teacher conferences or IEP review.

DH's excuses were: 

1. Car (trouble, flat tire, broken down, no gas and no money for gas)
2. OTR driving (still out of town, semi broke down, flat tire)
3. Bullshit.
4. Complete and utter BULLSHIT

His bullshit excuses include, yet not limited to, something very important came up, somebody died, wife has car...on and on and on.

After hearing the 'not enough gas and no money to put gas in it' excuse one too many times, Henry suggested we give him money so Hunter could see his dad and I agreed. Every time DH backed out, Henry and I had to pick up the pieces of Hunter's disappointment and sadness. The next time DH tried to back out of seeing Hunter because of money/gas, we offered him $50. DH couldn't say YES fast enough. Hunter of course had no idea we did that, at least from Henry and me.

In April of the following year my cell phone rang and the caller ID indicated it was from Hunter's high school. My heart sunk. The school hadn't called me after Hunter moved to his dad's house, and seeing the school name on my phone brought flashbacks. I answered the phone and was surprised to hear Hunter's voice.

He said, "Mom, I need a favor. I need my birth certificate and social security card."

I replied, "Well Hunter, after telling me you wanted nothing to do with me and my fucking family, I am not able to do that."

"But mom, it's important. I need them for a job."

"I'm sorry, Hunter. Your dad can get a copy of your birth certificate and your social security card. He should know how to do that."

Hunter was NOT happy. He yelled a few not very nice words and slammed the phone down.

As much as I wanted to help him, I just couldn't do it. Not helping him broke my heart.

I didn't see or talk to Hunter until the end of March 2016. Among other things, I missed his high school graduation. I had been fretting for a long time about how he was doing, whether or not he was still alive (not joking), if he still lived with DH, etc. 

One day, when could no longer handle not knowing, I left work and drove to DH's house. I was thinking while driving that this surprise visit could go one of two ways, or both. Either DH stuck a loaded gun in my face, which he's done before, and Hunter could rage at me. (Been there done that, too.)  Or they slammed the door in my face, provided someone actually opened it.

My whole body shook while I walked to the back door because. I didn't know what to expect. I knocked on the door. I heard the dog bark and people moving about inside the house, yet nobody came to the door. I waited about 5 minutes before knocking again. The dog was still barking and a body flew past the window on the door and down the basement stairs. It was Hunter. I waited another five minutes (and wishing the dog would just shut the hell up) and knocked again. After the fourth knock, the stepmom finally answered the door. I asked if I could talk to Hunter and she yelled down the basement stairs that I was there and that I wanted to talk to him. I was surprised when Hunter came to the door and asked him if we would come outside to talk. He did.

I wanted to cry when I saw him because (1) he was still alive, (2) he had grown so much since the last time I saw him, and (3) I was so happy to see him.

I asked him how and what he was up to (college), how graduation was (he hated the cap and gown) and whether or not he was doing okay (yeah).

The amount of time we spent talking was too short and I told him he could call me and I would take him for lunch or dinner. That has not happened.

I will close this post now because it is too difficult to see the keyboard through tears.

Hunter Bear, I love you and miss you more than you could ever know.

Another F*cked Up May

It feels as though I am in a constant state of turbulent emotions. For example, my birthday and Mother's Day were four days apart this year and I know, with absolute certainty, that my boys will NOT be calling to wish me a "Happy Birthday" nor will they be calling to wish me a "Happy Mother's Day".

First of all my kids have no idea when my birthday actually is, even though I'm on FB, where Connor and Matthew can plainly see it. Secondly, when Connor was in preschool/elementary school all his handmade gifts went to stepmom, and that set a precedent that still stands to this day. Not once - NOT ONCE - in 22 years have I received acknowledgement of any kind from Connor. Nada. Zero.  I couldn't even get his dad to automatically order school pictures for me (I would reimburse him when they were delivered), so I have no school pictures of Connor. No senior pictures. Nothing.

Matthew and Hunter, on the other hand, during the years they lived with me, I received their art projects for Mother's Day. Once Matthew moved to his dad's, at age 5, all that stopped. Hunter stopped when he moved to his dad's house.

Am I bitter? No. Hurt? You betcha. I played by the fucking rules where my kids were concerned by never speaking ill of their dads. (Although I had a LOT to say about Connor's and Hunter's dad. I still do.)

So, my birthday, followed four days later with Mother's Day, followed four days later with the 17th anniversary of the beginning of the HCA and I have a gun loaded, safety off, cocked and resting snugly underneath my chin.

All of the above doesn't even take into consideration how close I came to losing my dad at the end of March.

'Twas the Night Before Thanksgiving

...and I am so damn close to completely folding up inside myself and putting a bullet in my brain. Then I no longer have to feel like such an enormous disappointment to my kids.  I won't feel like an afterthought or a last choice.  I will finally stop feeling guilty for trying to do what I thought was in their best interest when, clearly, now, I was wrong there too.

Never.
Ever.
Ever.
Enough.
For.
Anyone.
Ever.

The problem with my plan is, I don't even own a gun. I overdosed twice, on purpose, and failed. Miserably.

My kids hate me. They do. They won't admit it to my face though.  Connor's feeling were crystal clear when, in October of this year, he got married and I wasn't invited. In fact, I found out about it 2 weeks after the fact, when I opened FB and saw a picture of him and his new wife.  It would have hurt so much less if he would have just kicked me in the chest.

I don't know where Hunter is, or how he is doing. I am terrified for him and the anxiety of that worry is eating me alive.

Matthew and I stay in regular contact.

Please, God...if you have plans for me, now would be a really good time to reveal them to me. Because if you don't, I will be left to my own devices. And it won't be pretty.

Would I...?

If I knew then (September 6, 1989) what I know now, would I...?

If I knew then (November 18, 1992) what I know now, would I...?

If I knew then (September 13, 1995) what I know now, would I...?

If I knew then (February 2, 2007) what I know now, would I...?

If I knew then (May 12, 1999) what I know now, would I?

If I knew then, what I know now, would I still have offered up my heart for the beast to crush and consume?

If I knew then that the self-LESS choices I made in the best interest of my boys would come back to chop me down at the knees, would I make the same decisions?

I. Don't. Know.  I just don't know.

A Cellphone Changes Everything

A few days after that stupid "game" I had asked Hunter to let me have his cellphone before going to bed.  It was not as a punishment; he was not in trouble.  It was just that he had made a comment that he was having trouble sleeping and I knew that he sometimes texts a little later into the night than he should, so it was just for one night; a Thursday night.  He actually handed it over without a fight and I reiterated again that he was not being punished for anything, I just wanted to see if he would sleep better without it so close at hand.  Not thinking anything of it at the time, he made a comment before closing his bedroom door that if I was taking his phone away then he wasn't going to school the next day.

The next morning I wake Hunter up for school as usual and remind him about his meds.  He's lolly gagging around -- which is normal for him.  I continue getting ready for work and reminding him at regular intervals that he needs to get up, eat breakfast and take his meds.  Typical morning routine. Pretty soon it's slipped past "normal routine" into Hunter saying, "I told you last night if you took my phone away I wasn't going to school today."  "Hunter, I told you that giving me your phone last night was NOT a punishment. You did nothing wrong. I was only hoping that because you said you weren't sleeping well that by not having your phone in your room you might sleep better."  It went downhill from there, and fast.

When Hunter gave me his phone the night before I placed it on the entertainment center, right next to the remote control, because when he gets up in the morning he likes to watch cartoons while eating breakfast so I knew he would find it.  Because he was still defiantly laying in bed and telling me he wasn't going to school and I needed to leave for work I told him I would call the bus garage and cancel his bus.  Except I didn't.  Because I knew Hunter would go to school.

Happy Birthday to me.

I had been at work, at the most, 10 minutes when I received a call from staff at his school telling me they think they saw Hunter walking on a sidewalk on X Road between Y and Z roads so I left work to see if it was him.  It was.  He was walking to school.  He was so angry with me about the phone that he refused to get into the car.  I told him I didn't cancel his bus because I knew he would go to school.  Which made him even angrier.  I phoned the local police department for assistance because I wasn't sure what Hunter would do, especially just a few days after falling unconscious onto a cement stoop.  I finally got Hunter into the car (30 minutes later) without the assistance of a police officer, and instead of taking him to school I made the decision to take him to the emergency department because Hunter was threatening, with plans of how, to kill me.  He was also telling me to "Wait until you see what I did to your bedroom."

While waiting in the emergency department for all the mental health services providers, approvals, etc. several staff members as well as security people were witness to Hunter's threat to kill not only me but several of them as well.  By the time Hunter was transferred back to the acute care wing of the residential treatment facility he was discharged from less than a year before, where staff members also witnessed Hunter's threats and methods to kill me, and I got home to see the damage Hunter did to my bedroom, it was almost 2:00 in the morning.  My birthday had come and gone.

Hunter had used a hammer to make holes in walls, my bedroom door and smash a mirror.  My things were strewn everywhere.  Glass shards all over my bed.  Things turned upside down.  I laid down on the couch and sobbed myself into an exhausted sleep.

When Hunter was discharged a few days later he asked me if it was okay if he went with his dad.  I told Hunter that I didn't think it was a good idea because his dad had made it a point to be only a speck in Hunter's life, regardless of how hard I tried to make it otherwise.  I also told Hunter that if that was what he wanted, I would support his decision because I wanted him to be successful and happy.  I asked Hunter why he wanted this change and he said, "Mom, I love you, but when I get angry I'm afraid that I would hurt you."

'nuff said.

A Choking Game He Survived

After spending 18 months in a residential treatment facility for behavioral issues relating to Asperger's and Bipolar disorder, Hunter returned home to me in July 2011.  He and I, together and separately, received in-home support services for several months after his return to help with his transition back into the community and back into our home.

In early May 2012 I received a phone call from Hunter, who was 15 at the time, just as I was getting into my car after work to drive home.  He said, "Mom, my nose won't stop bleeding. What do I do?"  I gave him instructions and told him I was just leaving work and would see him in a few minutes. (I work less than 3 miles from home.)  I didn't think much more of Hunter's bloody nose until my phone rang again and it was the manager of the apartment complex calling me.  "Carrie, this is Shelly, I just wanted to give you a heads up of what was going on over here..."  I quickly ended the call with Shelly -- and dialed 911.

From Shelly I had learned that Hunter was at his friend Knucklehead's house and Knucklehead, who is a year younger than Hunter, was teaching Hunter how to play "California Knock Out".  This "game", first of all, is NOT a "game", it is known by too many names to list, and it is a DEADLY game.  As such, I will not list exactly how "California Knock Out" is played, only what is relevant to the injuries Hunter received.

When I pulled in front of Knucklehead's townhouse, I saw Hunter sitting on the front stoop with a big wad of paper towels covering the majority of his face; from his eyes down.  Shelly approached me as I got out of my car and told me she heard commotion outside of the office (Knucklehead and his family live next door to the complex office) and stepped outside to investigate.  When she saw what was going on, she called me immediately.  (I arrived before the paramedics did.)

Knowing Hunter as well as I do, means knowing that he has much difficulty reading social queues so everything about my physical presence -- the look on my face, my voice, my movements -- everything I do has to let Hunter know that everything is okay.  That proverbial "poker face".  I'm still under the impression that he just has a wicked bloody nose so I'm joking with him until I get up close enough and ask him to move the paper towels so I can have a look at what's going on.

NOTHING. ABSOLUTELY. NOTHING. Prepared me for what I saw when he removed the paper towels from his face.  (Paramedics still haven't arrived.)

On the outside I was cool as a cucumber and in complete control.  Inside my head however, I was screaming "WTF?! OMG! WTF?! OMG!" over and over...

The National Ski Patroller and Certified Medical Assistant roles fall in behind "Mom" as I continue cracking jokes with Hunter while checking him over.  (Where are the paramedics?)  Thankfully his nose stopped bleeding, although it looked like it was broken.  There were abrasions covering large parts of his face and neck, and he chipped a front tooth.  According to Knucklehead and other witnesses, Hunter was unconscious for a period of time.

Finally, the paramedics arrive and after finishing their protocol they load him up and head to the emergency department with me following behind in my car.

Once Hunter and I are settled in the emergency department and are waiting for him to be seen we finally have a chance to talk about what happened.  Hunter had no recollection of that particular instance of that "game" yet did remember he and Knucklehead each having a turn just prior to him being felled by it.  This day was the only day Hunter had ever participated in this type of activity and it was Knucklehead who introduced him to it.

First off, Hunter at that time was close to 6' tall and Knucklehead around 5'5" tall.  Hunter was standing with his back against a brick wall with a cement stoop (in the front of a 2 story townhouse) on his right.  Hunter fell UNCONSCIOUS and so hard upon the stoop that Knucklehead's sister, who was in a back bedroom on the second floor, HEARD and FELT Hunter's head hit the stoop.

Hunter could feel the dried blood on his face and the chipped tooth and wondered if I had a mirror in my purse so he could see what his face looked like.  I didn't have a mirror, yet I did have my cellphone and with Hunter's permission I captured a few pictures.  Hunter also made a video warning kids to NOT try this game.  Thankfully, Hunter's nose was not broken, there was no damage to his heart, lungs or ribs and, as far as we know, no harm to his brain.

After Hunter and I returned home from the hospital we walked over to Knucklehead's house.  Hunter wanted Knucklehead to know that he was okay and I wanted a chance to speak with Knucklehead's mom.  Although she wasn't home that evening, she and I and the kids sat down together a few nights later and she was NOT a happy mom. AT. ALL.  Apparently -- and very recent to this event -- she had purposely sat Knucklehead and his sister, who is a year or two younger than he is, down to watch a program regarding this specific "game" so they themselves would NOT play it and so if they saw other kids engaged in this activity they would alert an adult immediately.  To say she was livid...

Positive What?

I've been trying to keep a positive attitude these past few months and I'm here to tell you there have been days (oh boy have there been days!) I have been ready to chuck it (almost) all. Instead, I take a deep breath (or 37), read positive poetry and quotations, some from the Bible, and try to steady myself for the next wave of whatever is on its way.

Today, on Facebook, the following popped up on a friend's status. It's called "God Wants You to Know..." and it spoke volumes to me.

"God wants you to know that you got what it takes. God won't give you more than you can handle. Although there may have been times the world was caving in on you, you got through it. You are much strong than you think and with God's power, you are stronger than you can imagine. So charge ahead. You can handle it."

I have a lot on my plate right now. Mostly by accident - yet I am sometimes happy (?) for the distractions. I feel that if I stand too long in one place all the emotions I am carrying like Santa's sack of coal will take me out in one fell swoop. Trust me when I say that I have almost (almost!) cried as much these past few months as I did when I lost my son Alexander.

I cry a lot for Hunter. For the childhood he is missing out on. Then I shake myself and ask "what? a childhood like mine?" I wouldn't wish that on anybody. I cry a lot for Hunter and the birthday's/holiday's, etc., he's spent in psychiatric hospitals. I cry because my little boy is no longer little and I pray to God that I've always given Hunter my best - or at least apologized when I've made a mistake.

There is one part of my life that, when judgment day comes, I will pass with flying colors. And that has to do with Hunter. The rest? Meh...I'm not so sure.

I cry a lot for Connor and Matthew. Miracle of miracles I actually had all three of my boys together, at Hunter's hospital, just before my birthday in May. I don't hear from either one of them - of their own volition - yet they'll usually answer my text or Facebook messages.

I cry a lot for the demise of my marriage. I can't believe 11 years together has come to this. I can't tell you how many times I have cried myself to sleep, woke up crying or burst into tears because of a stupid song on the radio. My heart is in shreds for soooo many reasons...I am not sure if I will ever recover...

Coming Undone

My life is so far out of balance it's all I can do to prevent myself from going completely under. I'm stretched thin with the commitments I've made -- yet that's not how it started out.

Back in December, when the Ski Patrol Director called me and asked me if I was still interested in becoming part of the ski patrol, I didn't hesitate to say yes. With the exception of my marriage being in complete turmoil and my job, I had nothing else going on. Then my health issue multiplied exponentially, Hunter had to be placed in a psychiatric hospital and my marriage continued to suck.

Then the snowboarding season ended and I had a few months of downtime from the ski patrol before starting the Outdoor Emergency Care portion in April.

Now, between attending classes two nights a week, self-study the rest of the week, visiting Hunter because he's still in the hospital, working at a job I love, watching my health continue to deteriorate, and trying to give CPR to my marriage, I am stick-a-fork-in-me-done.

Perfect example: last week were mid-terms. We had a written exam and four scenarios we had to pass in order for the instructors to know we are not complete idiots. (Apparently 90% of our class failed.) The scenarios included a deep laceration of a forearm, a man needing CPR/AED surrounded by live electrical wires, a broken wrist and a dislocated shoulder. In order to pass the scenarios, the instructors have a checklist of things that need to be done and said -- most of it in a specific order.

(The mid-term does not count toward our "grade", it was just a sanity check.)

I failed all of them, except one. I also failed the written portion of the exam. I feel like a big idiot. So many pieces of the scenarios we had to participate in are things I do everyday at my job.

----------> Bang Head Here <----------

I am thisclose to quitting this class and taking it again next year. Except if I do that, I have to wait another year for the coveted red parka.

Ugh!

My adrenalin and nervousness, if measured, would have been pretty close to the moon. No wonder I failed.

4 Months

Closing in on it anyway. There is so much to write and so many emotions to share that I am overwhelmed just thinking about how to put them down on a web page.

Hunter is still inpatient at a psychiatric facility and it's been, as this post is titled, almost 4 months. It's been a long road full of frustration, tears and one very painful "Oh-My-God" when I learned Hunter tried to hang himself with a belt he borrowed from his roommate.

I can't even go in to the range of emotions I felt when I heard that, nor explain to you how it felt to see the obvious signs of his desperation on his neck.

I'm still unsure where my marriage stands.

My job is going very well. I still LOVE what I do and the people I care for. I wouldn't trade it/them for anything.

I am currently taking classes to be an OEC (Outdoor Emergency Care) Technician for one of the local Ski Patrols. We are almost at the half-way point, which means mid-terms are coming up VERY soon. I have already passed my "Professional Rescuer" course for CPR/Airway Adjunct/AED. It was grueling.

This is all I have for now.

No Beds

Hunter is sound asleep on a gurney, approximately three feet from where I sit. We've been in this room inside the emergency department of a large metropolitan hospital since around 6 p.m. last night. Almost twelve hours...tick...tock...

Henry and I brought Hunter here last night because it is something the court had ordered us to do; a psychiatric evaluation. I dragged my feet. I couldn't (still can't) bear having him in a psychiatric hospital again. I thought those days were behind us. Wrong.

It is so hard to believe this sleeping young man, who, snoring softly, and looking so peaceful, has so much venom inside him that he wants to kill people. If you ask him he'll tell you as much and add the names of the people on his list. He went so far as to one night pull a knife out of the kitchen drawer to kill his stepbrother with.

Dear God, please help this man-looking-child survive his lifetime.

Happy New Year?

I wish that ~ more than anything ~ this year will be a happy year. So far it's not looking very good.

I have been loathing sitting down and adding a new entry to my blog. Until a few moments ago, literally, I couldn't put my finger on the reason why. It finally occurred to me that I am afraid of the tears.

I am not scared of the tears themselves, rather I am terrified of the emotions that are bottled up behind them. The emotions are raw, potent and deep and what bubbles to the surface now and again rock me to my core.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ Hunter ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Today we went to court with Hunter regarding his assault and battery charges. In addition to a woman from Child Protective Services following us, Hunter now has a Probation Officer. In exchange for a guilty plea (which we planned all along because Hunter admits what he did), of the three cases pending, totaling six people assaulted, two of the cases (five people) were dismissed. The remaining case/charge is against his teacher.

How did CPS become involved you ask? Well, right before Christmas Hunter pulled a knife on his stepbrother with every intent on killing him. (Henry intervened.) I was asleep at the time of the incident and woke up the next morning to find a very large knife laying on a table near my side of the bed.

I was furious.

When I woke Hunter for school the next morning I bombarded him with questions and statements. "What were you thinking?!", "Do you have any idea what will happen to you if you kill somebody?!" On and on I went.

Up until that moment Hunter had never seen me so livid and I think at first it surprised him. I pushed (verbally) too far and Hunter became frustrated. When he becomes frustrated he gets angry, when he gets angry he becomes violent. When he walked away from me and descended the stairs to the first floor bathroom, I was right on his heels.

As I moved to grab his arm, a quick succession of punches were sent in my direction, landing in various places on my body. I fought back. That is until Hunter grabbed and tangled his one hand in my very long hair. Our bodies were so close together that the only body part of his exposed to me was an arm, so I bit him. HARD. By this time my stepson, Jake, had intervened and had Hunter pinned up against the bathroom mirror and Hunter let go of my hair.

When I retreated upstairs I heard Jake talking to Hunter and Hunter calmed down enough to finish preparing for school. Shortly after, and still shaking, I left for work and Hunter left for school.

Later that afternoon I received a call from the school nurse, someone who has known Hunter and our family since he was in kindergarten. She started off by saying she and the staff at his former elementary school and current junior high school were behind Henry and me 100%. She said everyone knows we are great parents and that we are totally involved with helping Hunter and that it hasn't been an easy road.

Then came the "but"...the teacher noticed the bite mark on his arm and they were required to report it to either CPS or the police and which one did I want them to turn to? I told her to call CPS because the police would defer us to them and it would just eliminate the monkey-in-the-middle.

So that's how CPS became involved in our lives. Although I don't *dislike* the CPS worker, she does have a tendency to annoy me greatly with her idiosyncrasies.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ Relationships ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The stress of all things Hunter are more than enough for me. Unfortunately, on top of that, my relationship with my husband hasn't been what it used to be, although very recently, it has slightly improved.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ Health ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

My health is still not the best and more issues have arisen that, in addition to their own set of symptoms, only exacerbate the tiredness and fatigue I already feel from the diseases we already knew about.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ Activities ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

One thing I am fighting hard for is to stay active and not let the tiredness and fatigue cause me to sleep my life away.

I recently began training for the National Ski Patrol ~ even though I'm a snowboarder ~ at one of our local ski areas. Currently it's on-hill training, twice a week, (plus one duty shift a week) and it totally wears me out. Yet I LOVE the exhilarated feeling I get when I'm learning a new skill and I finally accomplish it, or I'm just free-styling wide-open down the hill.

Being outside ~ and in the cool air ~ is a bonus!

I am still viciously determined that 2010 be a much better year than 2009.

Only time will tell...

Life

Henry does most of the talking. He is so frustratingly articulate and freakishly analytical that I am completely defenseless and find myself frequently in the position of just listening. It's totally unproductive, but I don't know what else to do.

To give you an idea of what I'm up against, his favorite subject is (and always has been) physics. He qualified for MENSA and turned them down. He's also an Electrical Engineer. Matching wits with him is like bringing a straw/spitballs to an AK47 fight! LOL!

I am grateful to Henry for having always been not only constantly employed, but also for having a substantial salary. He has pretty much always sucked at chores, but he takes care of other things that more than make up for it. He sometimes works long hours, he frequently travels to work on jobs ~ sometimes for very long stretches, sometimes very far away and putting himself in danger.

A few years ago he flew for work to Germany, spending a little time in France and Italy, too. The travel status changed to high-risk, the American Consulates were saying "leave foreign countries NOW". His mom and I were begging him to get the next flight out before he was stuck there. Although he refused to fly home right away he didn't get "stuck". His mom and I could have choked him for putting us through that! LOL!

I've never doubted Henry's honesty or integrity.

Henry and I have been together for almost 11 years. Married 7 years last June. In all the years we've been together I have been, or at least it seems like, a constant patient in the health care system. Life with me has not been easy because of it. Our life with Hunter has not been easy either. Especially when we were trying to have him diagnosed. Especially the period of time I was in and out of psychiatric hospitals. Especially when Hunter and I were in different psychiatric hospitals on the opposite sides of town. Especially when I went through Electro-Convulsive Therapy and lost six months of my "life" (memories ~ present at the time and a lot of past).

Henry, it seems to me, is always "rescuing" me from something. I feel like a perpetual damsel in distress. Part of my problem with him, for a while now, is that he doesn't see me as a woman; as his lover, confidante and wife. I feel as though he is always waiting for the next catastrophe to happen so he can swoop in and rescue me again.

Intimacy used to be overflowing in our marriage. Not just sexual, but emotional, too. There was a time when I honestly and truly believed there was no way to tell where he ended and I began. I used to tell him that without him, I didn't make sense.

Our intimacy is gone. We barely speak to each other. If we touch, it's purely by accident.

I can't continue to live life like this.

Hunter Bear

Today is a mandatory parent/teacher meeting with/for Hunter.  I am so frustrated at his behavior as of late that I don't know which way to turn.  It also makes me terribly, undeniably sad.

Hunter really is a terrific kid. Really!  If his peers and teachers only saw a small part of what I see, they would know just how awesome he really is.  I sound like a parent, yet it's true, he is amazing.

In all the years of fighting for Hunter I often wondered where we would be when he became a teenager.  Technically he's not yet a teenager ~ he is only 12 ~ yet his physical attributes tell a different story.  For starters, his height.  He's taller than I am (5' 9") now.  Which is terrifying to me because he has the physical strength of a full grown man. 

I find myself walking on eggshells when Hunter and I are alone together and he becomes frustrated.  I do what I can, without giving in to his demands, if there are any, to not escalate his frustration into a full contact sport.

Last night Hunter asked me when his brother Matthew started shaving.  Matthew is 20 years old now and, as far as I know, he hasn't started shaving yet!  Then Hunter asked me when his brother Connor, almost 16, started shaving (he had a mustache at 10) and I guessed and told him he's probably been shaving for a while now.

Hunter is smart.  He has an amazing memory.  He has well-developed fine motor skills and recently assembled his very first model car.  He loves computer games, his X-Box and his DS.  He's also crazy about Lego's and Bionicles.

Sniffing the air around me, Hunter frequently notices my perfume.  He tells me when I look pretty, too.  He has also become much better at recognizing facial expressions and what they mean.  Something he struggled with (still does to some extent) for years.  If you asked Hunter which expression he sees on me the most and he would probably say frustrated!

I pray to God that we are somehow able to find the magic potion that will tame his ferocious temper when he becomes frustrated.  Sadly, society will not accept a child like Hunter, believing that his anger is manifested deliberately by him instead of it manifesting and taking hold of him.  That statement probably makes very little sense to someone that hasn't raised an Asperger's kid.

Hunter has been "Hunter-Bear", or some variation of it, since he was a newbie.  Initially I called him "Pooh-Bear" or "Pooh".  Over the years it's taken on a life of its own so I usually call him just "Bear".

I'm the only person in the world that calls him "Bear".  MY "Hunter-Bear".  For always.

Thank you, God, for another day.

 

Hunter, Hunter, Hunter

I thought Monday would be a great day for Hunter. He just came off a two day suspension and I assumed that would stay fresh in his mind as he stepped off the school bus and onto school property.

Instead, I was called to pick him up for the same reasons as before. Except this time he received a three day suspension.

I don't know how much of this I can take.

(Posted from my Blackberry)

Hunter's Assault

Today was another rough day for Hunter. In addition to running away from the school, he assaulted his teacher before he left.

The police were called, per policy, and when they found him he was sitting on a curb just a few blocks from school. The teacher filed a police report ~ and rightfully so.

Hunter received a two day suspension that starts tomorrow.

God, please help me help this child...