I am broken.
I don't have anything left to give anyone and yet little by little I allow people to chip away at what is left. That is my bad.
I wake up in fear.
Between 5 and 6 a.m. I wake up in a state of panic...how will the day go -will Andrew be frantic and swinging. Will I get breakfast fast enough so I can give him his meds? The moments until the jumping stops and the meds kick in - will I be patient? Will breakfast be okay - nothing soggy or floppy or smells bad? Dear God, let the pancakes be adequate. Will this be the day that I lose it? I don't want to lose it. There is nothing left to lose.
Did I count his meds correctly? I doubt everything and everyone. I doubt myself.
I face the morning- I get Jim out the door and Andrew to school, I do my errands and come home to quiet.
Blissful quiet.
I glance at the clock every twenty minutes- only so many minutes left. Tick. Tick. Tick. Enjoy them. Clean. Bake. Cook. Laundry. Write. Review. Post. Try to figure out how to make a career out of nothing. I need something.
11:30 a.m. hits like a surprise rain -- unprepared and drowning my time is up - I have 15 minutes before I need to pick Andrew up for meds and a lunch break. Will he come down when I need to take him back to school. Will he be upset - and screaming and go back in a bad mood and then get himself in trouble? Please don't let the phone ring - please don't let it be a 303 number, the school.
Dear Lord please make him have a successful time with whatever obsession he is buried in - whatever game - whatever fucking clan. Always the fucking games. The iPad will it lag? Oh God, don't let it lag. We limit the time on the games but he loves them.
6:30 Jim will be coming home soon. Will Andrew act up - will there be screaming. Will I scream? How many hours until it is time for bed?
Sleep -- bed. It doesn't come easy. I delay sleep. With sleep comes the morning and I hate the morning.
