My soul is tHe sound of brEakIng glaSs.
When MY son goes mad.
The sight of a bread macHinE thrown to the floor is Almost funny when it bounces.
Pounding fists, biting, scReaming.
HysTeria is catching.
ScreaMing is too.
9.1.1.
“What is your emergencY?”
The police are not the ones who can HElp…but they stAnd by, as helpless as I
HeaRTbeat crashIng, craShing, crashing.
Panic.
“Take this pill. Now this. And this.”
The doctor is a distant voice: “…he needs an inpatient mental health admission”
A long time coming
Following the amBulance thRough the rain…
Or maybe they are tEArs?
Hours waiting.
Nothing…nothing…nothing…
Questions without answers
“He’s just too strong for me now.”
Five people hold down my son for blood tests that reveal nothing wrong.
Vecta trance descends as digital projections swirl and spool
“We have no place for your son. He doesn’t fit the requirement of need.”
Home again, drugged complacence.
What will we do tomorrow…and the next tomorrow…and the next?
Every day is an undetonated hand grenade
You never Know when It will go off
You are grateful wheN it doesn’t.
Until it does.
I scrub blood from my sleeve and watch it swirl down the drain…
Along with the happiness the rest of the day promised.
The clock reads midniGht
It is a new day.
________________________________________________
The author is recovering. So her is son. Please be kind. I may not have the strength to answer any questions. Read between the lines above. It says it all.
For now, my son is home and doing as best as can be expected. He suffered no major physical injury. Nor did I. But I need time to recover anyway.
November is National Novel Writers Month. I typically participate and am trying to find the enthusiasm to do so. I may not have energy to respond, but that does not mean I do not appreciate encouragement and understanding.
I will bounce back from this…I am like my bread machine that way.
But not yet.
TheDustSeason 
All I have to give you is digital hugs. I send you those. I know you’re getting professional advice and working through it a millimeter at a time. I know you must have family and close friends to give you support. If you need someone else, I’m here. HUGS
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Thank you. I come back to blogging as more than an outlet for the frustration, but also for those people who listen and share encouraging words.
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No words… just hope this day is better, hope the help arrives. So sorry…
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Oh dear kiri, I am so. You are so brave.
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I sometimes think bravery is another way of saying, ‘no other choice’ but thanks.
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May you find the resources to get you through this.
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That is the hope. It just takes a very, very long time to get anything done.
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So sorry, my dear. Hugs … and I’m here if you need someone else to talk to. (I know you have many. Just telling you I’m one of them, if you need me.)
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Thanks. I do appreciate the offer. I’m just sick of my own complaints at this point. I’d like a mai tai and a hot beach somewhere to soak up my tension. Sadly, we are getting sleety cold weather in the forecast.
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I understand. I know that when I’m dealing with a tough challenge I get to a place where I’m embarrassed and bored with talking about it, especially to those few friends I routinely confide in. You haven’t talked to me, so I’m a fresh (and admittedly ignorant) ear, so at least you won’t be repeating something you’ve said a million times before. I don’t know whether that’s an issue for you, but thought I’d put it out there… 🙂
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I feel like these comments are all good and I’m sorry y’all are struggling through these things.
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I appreciate that. I truly due. Sympathy is a highly underrated gift. Like warm socks, people don’t really appreciate the gift until a winter’s bone-chilling cold sets in.
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My daughter just said the other day, “I don’t know why people complain about getting socks for Christmas. I love socks. Don’t they love cute, warm feet?” 🙂
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I know. Warm, fuzzy socks that stay on but don’t cut off ankle circulation are the best. Sadly, they like to take frequent vacations so I rarely have a matching set by the end of winter.
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Oh sad.
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I’m so sorry K. I wish we had a real mental healthcare system in this country to help families like yours. You guys are in my thoughts.
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Thank you. I whole heartedly agree. I wish someone would help families like mine.
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Hang in there !
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Hanging on. By skin of teeth and last thread, but hanging on.
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Your sacrifices are difficult — and show what a compassionate person you are !
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My heart aches when I read what you have to go through. I so hope help will arrive and you can have that drink on the beach. HUGS
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I hear Florida is nice this time of year. Let me know when a spot on the beach opens up next to you.
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It is a very nice time here right now, and there’s a spot open right here in my home whenever I am at home and whenever you get a chance to get away ❤
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The snow just started falling. I’ll get my bags packed and can be there by Monday. Is that good for you? 😉
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Well have to postpone your visit for a bit, because I’m in Washington D.C. (work), then home a couple of days before I leave for Sweden to celebrate the holidays with my sister’s family – rooting for a white Xmas. But later in January will be fine 🙂
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Oh, you can just leave the key under the mat. I’m sure we can figure out how to keep the alligators out of the bathtub after a trial or two.
But, seriously, enjoy Sweden. I highly recommend you try every variation on Lingonberry sauce you can. I mean, I think Sweden is the Lingonberry Mecca or some bright red fruit is which doesn’t exist on American soil. It goes well with melting brie! Until you return, Säkra resor!
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