Wednesday, August 15, 2012
I stand corrected, there was only one law enforcement fatality in this Texas incident, not two, but one is way too many.
I remain buffaloed in all aspects of trying to help those with mental health diagnoses.
I'd had a very weird phone call regarding another grown kid. The level of society that my children sometimes run in can be past scary into the alarming phase.
I was so rattled by all this yesterday, so irritated at my address in the newspaper, so flat out fed up at being forced to deal with violent issues that I got very little accomplished except by way of solitaire on my computer. Forever alone, as my kids would tell me, but alone in the silence is the pinnacle of happiness for me at the moment.
I crave it.
I'm gave out - as any normal country bumpkin might claim. Both of my parents and all of my grandparents and great grandparents and as far back as can be documented, well every one of them were all born within 100 miles of where I live.
I'm emotionally exhausted, whacked out, depleted, drained, and tired of grown kids not doing as they should, but then running to me to fi it for them. I can't. I'm not a fixer. I can't unring your bells.
I did not dive into weeding in order to properly vet my deep aggravation and residual fury, instead I just kinda sulked.
I felt listless and sad, as if I've wasted too many years on bull crap, stuff in which I made no difference.
I had outraged on my behalf grown children speaking up, and then a bunch of decent kids getting off the bus in the afternoon, no drama, no crud, just bubbling over, every single one of them, wanting to tell me about their day because they could. Our home is safe now, no one acting out, no one raging.
I've spent two days solidly at home, not running any detested errands, not cranking the van, not seeing other humans, and I've desperately needed the peace.
Sometimes I've just had it, I am so emotionally exhausted that putting one foot in front of the other is just such an effort.
I'm just so blah, so dadgum tired of reminding folks to obey the laws. "The cops got it all wrong," my thug told me.
Yeah, right. I don't argue. He's very convinced of his very wrong position.
Messaging our sheriff, asking for extra patrols over here, again apologizing for some of my grown kids and their very poor choices, he replied, "I guess they're predisposed to want to spend time in my grey bar hotel."
Yeah, that's pretty much it. He's very knowledgeable about the mental heath issues, all of law enforcement is forced deal with this regularly, this lack of inner brakes on one's behavior to stop one from acting so badly.
I desultorily plowed through boring paperwork, endless dirty laundry, and just generally straightening up the house, eating a very large plate of halved fresh bell peppers for lunch, peppers picked just minutes previously. Seven large blocky heirloom bell peppers with sea salt, tell me that won't make you belch like a sailor? I am so easily amused.
Lily'd found this tiny lizard in amongst the family room houseplants, I'm grateful for its bug-eating capabilities. And it's so cute, everyone crowded around Lily to pet it.
Martin mowed down around the old barn after school, we've divided the land into quadrants, everyone needs to mow a section. If I can get my slowpoke butt into gear this morning, I'm gonna push the mower around up in the Upper Gardens for an hour or so.
I dunno. I'm seriously dragging again this morning. I feel 78, not 58.
All of my dogs are starring quizzically at me, unsure and perplexed over my lack of usual momentum and constant motion.
I do have an upcoming event to get all excited about, but ever so traumatized, I'm reluctant to spout it out, feeling as if that'd jinx my possibilities. Really Cindy? Where is the word 'jinx' used in your Bible? Can you say nowhere? Get a grip ole girl.
Daniel again got a jury summons, apparently the pick of the litter. Hispanic, educated, leadership qualities, military, a stellar background - what jury wouldn't want him? But it's been three times in three years it seems.
Yolie's happy 'bout something too, but, like me, afraid to get excited about it until next week. Lemme tell ya, trauma can do a number on you with longtime recurring effects.
Maybe another cup of coffee is what I need to launch myself this morning. Or maybe I should let up on myself and give me permission to just relax quietly for awhile. But not doing something makes me feel guilty and uneasy. Weird, huh?