Mommy Needs Therapy...or a bottle of wine.

Things here really suck.

I haven't written in a while because it was just too much. Too much shit to put out in the universe.

But that doesn't seem to be helping, so maybe I do need to write.

Life with Noah sucks right now. It's hard not to resent the hell out of him for creating such chaos in our family. I know it's not his fault, but that rarely makes it easier to live with.

His meltdowns have become rages. Animal like rages. You look into his eyes and you see something you have never seen before. He screams, he cries, he slams and bangs and throws, and hurls hate at us. And these happen at least once a day.

A couple weeks ago he went into a rage because he didn't like the bagel I had for his snack before vision therapy. I had to restrain him. Twenty minutes into it I had them call Rich to leave work and come help me. It took 50 minutes from the start of it to get him to a point we could get him to the car. It was horrifying to have to sit in the therapy room trying to restrain him and knowing everyone in the waiting room was hearing him scream that I was hurting him, that he couldn't breath, that he was going to kill me, kill Kiel...and on and on and on.

I am thankful that no one called the police that day. I am even more thankful that no one in our neighborhood has called them considering the daily screaming matches and the times he has banged on his window for "help."

And then in between the rages he apologizes and can be as sweet as sugar and I renew my efforts to stay calm and do whatever I can to help him.

I'm tired. I'm tired of so many things. I'm tired of fighting to get the school to understand what he needs, especially since I'm not really sure what that is myself.

I'm tired of dealing with his poop. And finding poop balls in the dryer because he hides poopy underwear in the laundry. And I'm tired of pee. I don't even want to go into his bedroom because of the smell. And he doesn't care! He doesn't care that it stinks, that sometimes he stinks. He doesn't care that sometimes poop falls out of his underwear and onto the floor of his classroom, which has so grossed out his teacher she has suggested we send him to school in a pull-up.

I am so tired of his refusal to do almost anything we tell him to do. OMG, how dare we expect him to be responsible for something.

I'm tired of waking up at night and realizing that once again he isn't sleeping and he's downstairs watching TV or raiding the cupboards for contraband.

I'm tired of trying to keep things "normal" for Kiel, who is so sensitive to what is going on with Noah that he is constantly asking all of us if we are happy and apologizing for things that he had nothing to do with.

And I am so tired of people, who I know have the best of intentions, telling me they understand when I know they can't have a fucking clue what it is like. You with your "normal" kids and your "normal" difficulties have no idea the hell it is to live with a child like Noah. I don't want your advice. I don't want to hear what worked with your "normal" kids. Because it doesn't work with Noah. Believe me, we've tried.

And yes, I have been talking to his doctor. We are adjusting medication. We are trying not to take it personally. I know it is the RAD and the bipolar. I know that. But it doesn't make it any easier to deal with when he's screaming at you that he wants you dead.