Hits keep coming

As many of you know, Andrew was readmitted to the hospital on Wednesday evening. Overall, things have been rocky - better at home when we are alone - he and I - as it seems every person added to the equation makes for more stress - for everyone involved. Or it could be that I truly understand him more than others, even his father.

Dealing with depression, social anxiety, bipolar is something I totally get - my mother was bipolar - and I have a number of issues. I have to fight hard to be the totally with it woman you all see (are you laughing?) - in other words I'm a fucking fake - you know the tears of the clown stuff.

On Wednesday at school, he picked up a rock and threw it - why big rocks are right aside the SED classroom is beyond my comprehension - just as with our latest election  - it makes absolutely no fucking sense. He threw and broke a computer. He said vile things to the staff. He postured to punch an aide and the teacher and came one inch away from poking the psychologist in the eye. Remember, when I told you all - that the program there was not right for him. Yeah, I told them so.

He has gone from a frustrated brilliant boy who use to curse a great deal and sometimes clear the table when he became angry - to a boy immersed in autistic behaviors, inappropriate gestures, extremely regressed to baby talk at times and wants to be with me every single moment. Him being in the hospital again is tearing us both apart.

We are drowning and there are no life preservers for this shit. I can't seem to make the hospital understand that this is NOT Andrew. Prior to the hospitalization - he had really bad moments, really angry moments - now he still has those but he is a shell of who he is - and I want him back. Is that too much to ask? I'll deal with the outbursts - if I can have a conversation with him again - if he doesn't have that far away look in his eyes - if he doesn't act like an 8 year old version of the ruler of North Korea.

He isn't on anything new medication wise. Most of his medications were removed and just a few remain. Right now, the staff is befuddled as to what the right medication may be.

I just want my boy back - for better or for worse. I go to the hospital and feel like I can't breathe that there is so much sadness and hurt in the air. I know friends are battling cancer, I know friends are recovering from hurricane damage and I am thinking about them always - but when someone says there dishwasher broke and they are distraught, I want to pick up a rock myself and fling it through cyberspace. Be grateful for your life - I am trying hard to be grateful for mine even though I am fast losing faith in my God - I don't think he is there - if he ever was.

This is were I am at - lost and looking for my child - like Shirley MacClaine in Terms of Endearment - he's in the hospital again, we're following all the fucking rules - just give me back my son - it's way past 10 o'clock.