Before you know it, you're the crazy cat lady in the scary house

Another Shoe?

August 06, 2003 ... 11:46 p.m.

...

Just when you were thinking everything at das haus von Eibisch was sunshine and lollipops...

My brother has been diagnosed with a lot of problems. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and Inhibited Reactive Attachment Disorder (RAD) are just a couple.

RAD just turns adoptive/soon-to-adopt parents blood cold.

The behaviors have been evident, I haven’t written about them. Maybe I was hoping they would just go away, I don’t know.

He has tried to kill Tinker twice. He hides knives in my room. He split my lip once. There’s more, but I don’t want to go on.

It’s exceedingly hard for me to realize everything this past year and some odd months has all been some kind of ploy. Every show of affection has been just that. A show.

On one hand I feel such overwhelming sympathy/pity/sorrow for what must have happened in the past to manifest in this way. He’s 9. He’s just a little boy.

On the other hand, this may be it. Disruption may be a decision. Disruption. God. We all had some adjustment issues in the beginning, but his behaviors are so draining--mentally, physically and emotionally. I can’t fault my mom if that is what she decides. Over a year of living with violent tantrums lasting 3 or more hours, my life being threatened and on and on--it never ends...I just can’t fault her. I know what she’s been dealing with. I’ve been dealing with it. I cannot adequately express the gravity of this situation. Or the confusion I feel.

I don’t want him to go. And yet, a small part of me feels a tremendous sense of relief at the thought of disruption. That’s horrible--you think I don’t know that? I know, believe me, I know. But, God help me, it’s how I feel. Talk about guilt. I just want him to be alright. I just want him to be a relatively normal boy. I just want to snap my fingers and make everything okay.

I can’t. I can’t help him. I can’t help Mom. I can’t help myself. I don’t know what to do. Everything is up in the air now. WSU/transferring...I don’t know. Is it disgustingly selfish to still want out of here? I’m a bit afraid that I just want to get away so I can pretend it is sunshine and lollipops from a distance. More guilt.

I’m sorry this entry doesn’t have even one semi-humorous line in it, but I need to talk. Who else can I talk to? My friends all just think he’s an angel--mostly because I haven’t been forthcoming. Mom? She’s a little too involved. I suppose I could talk to my bishop. But, cripes, I hate burdening others. Even if that is their job.

It’s just one thing after another around here. Day after day, it’s just more crap. Can’t catch a break.

Damn it all to hell. I give up.

Currently Reading: ...

Listening To: AFI
...swept off our feet by misery...

Have a happy day!

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