Stop the #$#@$# world.

I want off.

There's nothing but black.  It's been building, this past week, but today I am filled with it. Filled with hate and defeat, my head overwhelmed with a desperate need to leave.

I want to run away. I want to leave everything and everyone and just be alone.  I dont' want to talk. I don't want anyone to talk to me. I don't want the sound of the television. Music makes me want to scream. There is a happy, loud party happening right now next door and I shake with rage as I want to scream at them to shut the #@#% up.

I am hateful and and every polite word is forced, utterly fake. My mind is filled with filth and cruelty, things I want to say. Things I'd never dream of saying, things that can't be taken back. Today it is taking everything I have not to hurl them at anyone, at everyone.

I want to get drunk and run away, be reckless and not worry about anything but getting out of here. I want to take a box of Xanax and sleep until I'm me again.

You all think I'm nice, or strong, that I'm worth something.  You're all so f@#$ing wrong. I'm not. Not today.

Numb

Seems to go in cycles.  I had a great week.  Had a terrible week.  Now I feel numb. Detatched again.  Like everything's far away and sounds different.  Like I'm just pretending I'm here.

So many extremes. And then so much nothing.

Have you ever

Been transported back in time, instantly by a piece of music?  My beautiful friends Trina and Pam sent me this link this evening.  I've spent the last half hour letting it wash over me.  I can practically smell my mother's shampoo, and feel my Dad's warm presence as my eyes close and I am 10 again.



Thank you ladies.  It's been a shocking day, and you just found a way to end it on a sweet note.

Muse Challenge 3 - I'll be seeing you..

He stumbled, just for a moment.  On what, he wasn't sure, and he couldn't bring himself to care. An arm reached out, ready to steady him and for a second he forgot, and let himself grab it.  The hand was soft, but those fingers too long, and when he looked down he could see they belonged to his daughter. He flinched, forcing himself not to pull away, not to hurt her feelings. But those were the wrong hands. He didn't want any other hands.

Slowly he made his way up the hill, his son and daughter hovering at either side of him. Why, oh why did they have to be here for this? He knew it was their right, they needed it too.  But oh, how he needed silence right now, a last moment with her, in their special place.

The wind rushed through the long grass, almost flattening it, and his mind took him back to this exact spot, nearly 50 years ago. The first time he'd laid down a picnic blanket, and held his hand out to hers.  The awe as she smiled, and placed her hand in his, and sat down before him.  His nervousness, trying to decide just how close to her he could sit.

Just a couple of months later with a chill in the air and both of them bundled up in coats and gloves, in a halting whisper, he'd told her he loved her.  Her eyes shone as she threw her arms around him, laughing as she returned the sentiment.  She wasn't nearly as nervous as him, it was as though she already knew.  She probably did.  She always knew him better than he knew himself, always seemed to be a step ahead of him, especially in matters of the heart.

The spring came, bringing with it wildflowers and diamonds, promises of forever. Another blanket, carving out a flat spot for them within the tall grass, and they had made love for the first time. Still, decades later, the best day of his life.  So much love, so much joy, so much to look forward to.

They'd been wed in a church, of course, though both had fought for this very spot, so sacred to them both.  Hair blowing in the wind, the tall grass bending to it's will, the ocean below them. But this spot remained 'theirs'.  This was the place they declared their love, consecrated it and they had come back here, year after year, bringing with them children and grandchildren.

And now, here he was.  Joints protesting the walk up the hill, body oh so changed from the first time he'd come here with her. The town below them had changed over the years, but this spot had remained untouched.

Almost.

His eyes narrowed in surprise as he spotted a lonely wooden bench, perched at the top of their hill. He and Sarah had been here just 2 years ago, for their 45th wedding anniversary, and this had not been there.  He bristled at the thought of someone else being here, and his heart broke at the thought of this place changing.

But of course it had changed.  Would be forever changed. What good was it without her here to share it. He stopped, suddenly sure he didn't want to do this anymore.  He couldnt' do it if their hill had changed. It felt wrong. He clutched the small vessel to his chest and felt tears pricking his eyes. His son placed a hand on his shoulder, willing him forward. "Just look, Dad". He'd never wanted to run away from anything more in his life.

A few more steps, and they were standing behind the bench. There was a small plaque.

Sarah Alice Gorman

1940 - 2009

Who so loves believes the impossible.

 

He stared, his brain unable to grasp what was before him.  He looked up at his son and daughter. How?

"We finally got it up here a few weeks ago.  She wanted it, for you.  She wanted you to sit here, after she was gone.  To sit with her.  She said she knew you'd come, and she didn't want you on the ground", his daughter's chuckle matched his own.  That was so...Sarah. Always a step ahead.  Always thinking of him.

 

His trembling fingers traced her name and the quote, her favourite. It was perfect. Or as perfect as anything could be once you'd lost the love of your life. He'd woken every morning since she'd died last winter, just wishing he could have gone with her.  Wondered how long he'd have to wait to be with her once more. And now, today, a year to the day since she'd left them, he had to somehow scatter her ashes, let the wind take her away from him yet again. He couldn't imagine actually letting her slip through his fingers that way, having no part of her left.

"Why don't you just sit a while, Dad.  We don't have to do this right away".  He nodded, clutching the urn, and sat on her bench.  The bench that would bear her name forever, long after he'd joined his love again.

He sat that way, listening to the wind, watching the water below.  Lost in memories.  His daughter pressed a button, and suddenly Billie Holiday was crooning their song.

His eyes closed. He let the tears fall, tracing their way down the lines on his face.

Here. Now. In this place. To this song. It was time.

(The Muse Challenge this week was set by Karen, over at Menopausal Mumma).

A New Blog

I was over at Sugar Coat It just the other day, and she had a new blog recommendation.  I clicked on the link, and discovered You, Me and Georgie.  It is a similar idea to my other blog, The Things We Can't Tell You, though this is less about being anonymous, and more about getting your blog out there to a new audience.

It is a blog that shares other blog finds, dedicated to guest blogs and is a great way to get your blog out there.  All you need to do is email Megan the piece you want her to put up (it can be new, or something already on your blog) and she will post it, along with a link to your blog.

I decided to give it a go, and sent the link to one of my older pieces.  Check it out here.

Changing the tone.

Yesterday's post, and the last one weighs on my mind, and I can't shake the ache - in my heart and my head. But I've been playing silly games with my boys all morning, and they are currently settled into the same chair, watching Pink Panther, a cookie in hand (or mouth) and arms around each other.

I love them, but not enough to suffer through Pink Panther episodes with them, so I'm stealing away, all tickled and giggled out (for now). 

So, time to get some happy back on here.  Something beautiful, to temper the ugly that was my last post. Though, about that.  Thank you, you were all lovely and loving, and I needed that yesterday.


I'm pretty sure my heart needs some pink today.

I love the softness of this shade of pink, the gentle beauty it offers. It's quiet, graceful, just a blush of colour.  It is truly my favourite colour in the world.

Some innocence.. the type all children should be allowed to hold onto as long as possible.

Some romance - butterflies in your stomach as he holds your head in his hands, goosebumps as you feel his breath on your neck.

Maybe some wishful thinking..

I hope this weekend all of you find a way to pamper yourselves, in whatever way makes you feel special.

Take some time to do what inspires you, what makes your mind and body feel whole.

Find a way to tell someone in your life how much you love them - better still, why you love them.

I hope you all have a wonderful weekend.

Heartbroken

A minor altercation with his brother over a bath toy. Screams, a tug of war.  A flooded bathroom.  A time out.  Harsh words.

A flash, just a moment of pure rage crossed his eyes.  His fists balled, fingers white. A deep breath in. A long, slow one catches on the way out.

And he implodes.  Into heartbreak. Utter, wretched heartbreak. He cries the most sorrowful, agonized years, and my heart splinters for this child of mine. He makes no mention of any other event, but that it hurts his heart to have me upset with him. 

He tried to give Samuel one of his most prized possessions, to prove to me that he was a nice boy. Samuel, being two and oblivious took no note.  Alexander's heart broke further, and he became inconsolable.

While he may swear he is not upset about Tuesday (despite admitting to nightmares), something is catching up on my poor boy. :-(

Help.

Less than a week after our children donned their orange ribbons to Say No to Bullying, my child has become the victim of an assault.

This isn't new.  He tends to get picked on a bit - he's bad at sports, and just 'different' than others, and not someone who will fight back, he's a peacemaker.  Not terribly serious incidents, thus far, but some niggling ones that we've been dealing with over time.

Last night, I pressed the button to listen to my answering machine, to hear the frazzled voice of Alexander's teacher, asking me to call her immediately (This message had been from 3.30pm, we'd not been home).  There were 3 more, and another this morning, her sounding more concerned each time.

 I had questioned Alexander over and over again, asking if anything had happened, and he assured me all was fine and he hadn't been in trouble (he never is) or had anything happen.  I did a full body check, and noticed some bruising on his back, about the size of my hand, and some redness along his spine (just the bumps, if you know what I mean). When i asked him how it happened, he said it was nothing, he couldn't remember doing anything.  I believed him.

I went to school about 45 minutes early today, curious about what I was going to hear. Not overly concerned, but there was a flutter in my stomach, and I was somewhat jittery.  I approaced the classroom and asked if everything was ok.  She looked at me and said "I'm so sorry, but no.  It's not.  We really need to talk".  My heart sank.

She asked Alexander to tell me what happened yesterday.  He looked at me and said "Nothing", but I noticed he had unshed tears already, and his mouth made a perfectly arched frown, the one he gets when something has really distressed him and he's trying to hold it together.

I felt sick.  When bad things happen, he has a tendancy to internalise, store them up (usually just until he sees me, so I'm stunned that he didnt' even tell me this time) and deal with them when he's ready.

She asked him if he was telling the truth yesterday when he told her he fell.  I had no idea what she was talking about.  His eyes dropped, he wouldn't look at us.  He clearly thought he was in a lot of trouble. She got down to his level and said that A had told her what really happened, and that he didn't fall at all. At this point, the tears were spilling over, and he nodded his head. 

It turns out, a boy in his class (with, I might add, BOOTS rather than sneakers) had cornered him in the toilets in class time.  Had backed him into a corner, forced him onto his hands and knees, jumped up and down on his back, and kicked him.  When Alexander had tried to stand up, to get him off him, the boy hurt him further, then threatened him and told him to tell the teacher he'd fallen over.

Alexander did as he was told, as he always does. It turned out, there was another boy in the toilets, and just before the day ended, he approached the teacher and told him what he had seen.  She was livid.  I have never seen her (or any teacher) so angry.  She asked him if he had tried to stand up to get J off his back.

He looked up at me and said "I'm so, so sorry. It's just that it hurt so much.  It was hurting so much and I just didn't want to hurt anymore". We spent half an hour, reassuring him that he did absolutely nothing wrong, but that he should always stand up for himself, and tell a teacher.

The principal, Vice Principal and Head of SEU are involved.  Apparently there was trouble getting the other mother to take it seriously, until the VP advised her that I was well within my rights involving the police, as this was unquestionably an assault, far beyond normal playground teasing.

I am a sea of emotion over this.  I'm heartbroken at the image of my sweet, gently boy face down on the toilet floors.  The pain he must have felt, over-ridden by his desperate desire to please, and be 'nice' to everyone.  His fear of this boy.  His defeat, as he accepted the line he was given, and delivered it to his teacher.

I'm seething at this boy.  I'm doing everything I can not to over react.  I dont' know him well (though enough to know he is a problem child), but I do know that he and his siblings are in some way attatched to the SEU. I'm 90% sure that he has ADHD, rather than an ASD, but could be wrong. 

Alexander does not want to discuss it.  I've tried.  His teacher said that all day he was unfocused, lethargic, just wanting to sleep.  He doesn't want it to be made into a bigger deal, clearly - refusing to recount details, just apologising, no matter how much I tell him he doesn't need to. The harder we pushed, the more he clammed up, so we were very careful.

This fact, and the boy's attatchment to the SEU, are what have stopped me, at this point, from marching into the office and demanding to speak to the Principal and Vice Principal.  I have simply said that if anyone but his teacher wants to speak to Alexander about this from here on in, I must be there for it, so he understands he's not in any trouble, and we're trying to help him.

Alexander has a special pass that means he does not ever have to ask to go to the toilet, he can simply write his name on the board, and go - as he goes more than a dozen times during class time, and never 'realises' he needs to go until almost too late.  His teacher wanted to change things so that if he needs to go, he goes to the (lockable, and almost unused) disabled toilets instead.  The VP (and I, to a point, though I'm not sure) feel that this would do nothing to help him, as he would not learn to be more assertive.  He does not seem to understand that he has a right to be safe, that noone has a right to bully him. 

It's something we've been working on for 3 years now.  The thing is, as many of my long term readers will know, he is the gentlest of spirits. A truly peaceable, loving, kind boy.  A deep thinker, but very different to children his own age. A follower, desperate to please.

A combination that has long terrified Joel and I.  Not so much for what happened yesterday (though every time today I have thought of it, I have felt ill, and had to hold back tears), but for what could happen. That far worse, unthinkable what if, running through my mind.

I was sexually assaulted.  While I was able to extricate myself eventually from the situation, I was afraid to be 'rude' to this person, to raise my voice, to tell him 'no'.  Because you're never, ever rude to people.  You are always polite to adults, and you're never mean. It was ingrained into me.

And he is me. I've tried, so often to talk of this issue.  Explaining that though I love how gentle and sweet he is, it is ok to stand up for himself, whether it be to Samuel, another child, his cousins, an adult making him uncomfortable.  I thought he was beginning to understand.

I was so clearly, horribly wrong.

What do I do? How do I deal with this, without making him feel worse than he already does.  How do I (in the words of the SEU Head) "toughen him up", or (in the much more PC words of the VP) help him assert himself, without losing that wonderful sweetness that makes everyone love him?

Where's the line? How do I protect my child, without forcing him to change who he is?

Where the hell did I go wrong, and how do I fix this for him? I'm so desperate to fix this for him.

And what on earth am I going to tell Joel?

EDITED:  just to clarify.  I'm giving him tomorrow off, as he's so tired, and trying so hard to just block it out. I will call the school in the morning and arrange a meeting with Vice Principal and HOSES(Head of Special Ed) to discuss a) how they will keep J from Alexander, and b) what we can do to help him be more assertive.

This was always the plan.  I had no intention of not speaking up for him.  But he became upset the more we discussed it.  I need to be able to do this without him present, so I can hit a little harder.  I will NOT, no matter how angry or sad I am, upset him further.