Horrible week

The week was horrible. Zach spun out of control and Tuesday night I had to call an ambulance and the police. He was taken to the ER for assessment and was admitted to an acute residential treatment program at a local psychiatric hospital Wednesday afternoon. Somehow I keep surviving the things I think I won't survive. So do my kids.

He was in shock that I called the EMT's to come get him. The police officer that showed up was wonderful with him and was able to calm him down some and get him dressed to go to the hospital. One of the EMT's looked like he was right off Third Watch; tall, buff, and handsome. They were all amazed that Zach is only 11. So am I sometimes. It feels like he should only be 5 or 6, not almost 12. He's my baby and he's in so much pain.

How much more can a mother's heart take? I've been through this with Nicole too. Didn't I do my share already? Didn't I do the share of at least 2 or 3 families already? Sometimes it feels neverending with them. I know they aren't trying to make my life hell but it ends up that way anyhow. Their lives are hellish too. Zach is miserable there but he seems to be getting used to it. He cried in my arms when I went to visit Thursday. He hasn't done that since he was 5 or 6 (he's too cool). I didn't cave though. He's staying as long as is needed.

Nicole went to NH this weekend so I have the house to myself for the first time in about 3 years. It's so quiet and peaceful. I rented DVD's and stayed in my air conditioned room last night. It was the only way to stay comfortable.

I made the mistake of telling David where Zach is. Now he wants to see him. Zach is refusing though and I don't blame him. He doesn't need a father that only shows up when it suits him. David says he doesn't understand why the kids don't want him in their lives but I think he's full of shit. He must get it on a deep level but if he lets it come to the surface, he'll have to face what a scumbag he is. I'm not sure I'm ever going to forgive myself for having allowed him to father my children.

Joys and heartbreaks

I am sitting here at work with nothing to do but think so I thought it best if I put my thoughts down where I can read them and make more sense of them. I am joyous because I love studying photography. I've been out taking shots recently and I can't wait to see the finished product. Some of the film is medium format so I have to decide whether to have it developed at a lab or wait until the semester starts. I'm not sure I can wait a month.

But it's been so good to really enjoy this. Joy was not part of my upbringing. We were allowed two emotions; pleased and remorseful. Anger was not allowed by children. Really, who did we think we were to question or disagree with desicions made that affected our lives? I have given my children that voice. They are allowed to question, renegotiate, and have strong opinions. But has this been too much?

My son is spinning out of control. I am afraid I can no longer handle him. His propensity for violence and destruction when he's angered is beyond the norm. At 11, he's taller and stronger than me and he knows it. He's never had a man in his life to help him understand that you don't use force to get what you want. His father runs away if things don't go his way. My fathers ran away. I feel like running away. I won't.

I can't let him go on the way he is. He's going to end up hurting me or his sister or completely destroy my house. I won't allow either. I know he'd been devastated if he really lost control and hurt us. He's less caring about physical property. That's a big part of it. He just doesn't care. He has a sense of entitlement that is not deserving.

My heart breaks at the thought of having to admit him for more psychiatric testing or put him in a residential program but if I let this go on, he'll be heading to prison at 18. I will not let that happen. I pray it doesn't come to this but I am afraid it already is.