Wednesday, February 10, 2016

worrier pose

It's hard not to cry. It's hard not to worry about the things that are wrong. It's hard not to let my fears about the things that are wrong balloon into huge terrible scenarios whereby I die of cancer and my daughter with sensory processing disorder who's been living on Oreo milkshakes for year devolves into a street person and dies of cancer alone, refusing to let anyone look after her or treat her. It's hard not to think of this and how I'm failing to protect her and dissolve into a sea of anguished terror. I need to cry and at the same time it just hurts and it doesn't help and why am I doing this to myself I need to stop thinking.

It's ridiculous. Fucked up monkeys is right.

My friend came back from the place we go to for Autism treatment/meetings/whatever and said she'd noticed abashedly that all the ASD mothers looked so similar - fat and stressed and upset. All we've got left to us is eating. I know another ASD mother with Trich as well... that makes me worry there's a correlation, whatever brain deficiency makes us have this OCD maybe contributes to ASD. But who knows. What difference does it make, I suppose. We're all just struggling along, most people relying on drugs for our kids that don't really work, and taking drugs for ourselves as a result, just to deaden the panic.

A friend's friend in Galway went missing a few days ago. They found her body today, in the woods. I don't know this friend well enough to ask if it was a murder or suicide or accident - maybe nobody knows yet. It's so tragic either way. Again, I am terrified of people's grief. I don't want anyone to feel that way, so part of me desperately needs the information to try and piece it together, make it make sense a little more, somehow.

I told Bodhi. Who said it was very sad and didn't make him feel safe. Of course it doesn't, what the hell am I thinking when I do that? 8 year olds don't need to know about bodies in the woods on the other side of the country.

His father buys him sweets and Subways all the time and his mother tells him about murder  victims. Jesus.

PS: I feel bad for writing this whiney crap, I really do, but I instantly felt better after purging it, so... I'm glad I did. But sorry, and thanks.


Ms. Moon said...

Purging is always good. It's okay, Jo. Whatever you need to do - it's okay.

Mwa said...

Purge away. No need to apologise. Do you think we read blogs to see pictures of flowers every day? We read them so we know we're not alone with our messy lives.