Boy that didn't take long...

"I mustache you a question."

Boy it is...my youngest son.  The easiest to deliver and the hardest to manage.  He looks just like every other 10yr old kid in the neighborhood.  Holes in the knees of his jeans, dirt on his hands and messy hair.  You just wouldn't guess that at the drop of a hat he could change from a big-hearted snuggle bug to a raging 90lb bull.  Doesn't matter what or who is in the path, we are all at risk of being collateral damage.  I've lost precious heirlooms to thrown shoes, dodged shattering glass, bandaged up 6" long gashes and have permanent scars on my arms from restraining him.  Now, don't get all crazy on me here when I say restraining.  Sadly, sometimes it's the only thing we can do to keep him from hurting others or even himself.

My 10 year old battles severe mood dis-regulation, otherwise known as Bi-Polar Disorder.  They (Dr.'s) won't call it Bi-Polar Disorder in kids, so they came up with this fancy name.  Obviously, I'm not a doctor, so I'm not going to spout off medical facts about what this disease really does to people.  I can only see how it torments someone I love dearly. Not even in my dreams could I begin to know what it must feel like to not have control over my own emotions and feelings.  Even not knowing what it feels like myself, I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy.  Ok, I could maybe think of one person, but the truth of the matter is, it is the last thing I want for my child, my baby.

He has to attend a special school with other children with similar behavioral issues, takes a regiment of medications to help regulate his mood and ultimately requires an entirely different set of parenting skills that none of my other children needed.  We've been very fortunate to find an organization and doctor that actually treat the person instead of just the illness and in the grand scheme of things, he really has improved since his first diagnosis almost 6 years ago.  Sadly, it has been a long road to get to this point and I can't begin to count the number of times I doubted my choices, cried alone in a closet or thought his issues were the direct result of something I had unknowingly done to him.

I've blamed myself, his fathers genes, society and even God.  Ultimately, I don't know why we are having to deal with this, but I know it must be for something great.  I believe with all my heart that everything you go through prepares you for something else.  Maybe it's a worthwhile career opportunity or a more open perspective with less judgement.  Maybe you'll be able to help someone else down the road by sharing your own struggles.  I guess that is one of the reasons I started blogging.  Well, that and the fact I don't have the time or patience to write a whole book.

Seriously though...tonight was a rough one.  I'm scratched, bruised and sore.  Not just physically, but emotionally.  Because after the last drop of rage seeps from his body and he realizes what he's done, he breaks down into my sweet 10yr old, apologizes and says he should just die.  He says things like "I should leave so I don't hurt you".  Talk about ripping your heart out!  How can I possibly stay angry when I know that deep down, the little boy that loves his mother and would never hurt her, is still in there. 
<Deep sigh>

I fear for his future.  It's already so hard to be a kid growing up in today's society when you don't have any mental/physical obstacles to hinder you.  I shudder to think of the potential situations he'll be placed in and how he'll react.  Will he work through it or will he constantly fight tooth and nail?  Will he turn inside himself and keep it bottled up or will he be a loose cannon that explodes in the worst way...or both?!  I just don't want him to be limited to the stereotypical statistics that "Doctors" say he'll turn into.  I can only believe and hope beyond hope that he finds the balance he needs to be happy.

Just before I decided to blog tonight's tension out of my system I was hiding in the bathroom, crying tears of regret for things I said and actions I took.  I realized, without thinking about it....I was breathing pretty darn deep.  In through the nose, out through the mouth.  Focused on one small charm hanging on a necklace across the room.  And just like a V8 commercial, my palm landed on my forehead with a hard smack.  Lamaze strikes again! It pulled me into a place of focus and I realized that I needed to purge the negative energy and hurt out of my system.  I knew I had to write about it...so here I am...blogging.  I don't know if my ravings will do anyone any good, but for now, I'm better and that is what matters most.  Maybe I need to subject my son to a few Lamaze classes and see what happens.  Lord knows, it couldn't hurt.  So here's to hoping I won't have to blog again for at least 24 hours....Oh who am I kidding...."just remember to breath".

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